Free The Elephants of Norwich by Edward Marston

like dry land beneath my feet. That’s why I rarely return to Normandy. I’ve promised to take my wife, Golde, there one day but I’m not sure if that promise will ever be honoured.’
    ‘Shame on you, my lord!’ she teased.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘A husband should never let his wife down.’
    ‘Even when it would spare him great distress?’
    ‘Especially then,’ she argued, good-naturedly. ‘It’s a sign of true love to endure distress for someone else’s sake. Your wife would be duly grateful.’
    ‘I doubt that she could summon up much gratitude if she saw her loving husband leaning over the side of the boat throughout the voyage. But you raise an interesting point about marital promises, my lady,’ he said, artlessly. ‘Should they be fulfilled only if they’re freely given by the husband, or if they’re extracted deliberately by the wife?’
    ‘In both cases.’
    ‘Did you keep your own husband to that rule?’
    ‘There was no need, my lord. He spoiled me wonderfully.’
    ‘Is that what you look for in a husband? Someone who’ll spoil you?’
    ‘I’d need to be loved and cherished first.’
    ‘Few men could resist doing either for you,’ he said, gallantly. ‘The wonder is that you’ve remained a widow for so long. You must fight off suitors in droves.’
    ‘One or two, perhaps.’
    ‘You’re being too modest, my lady.’
    ‘Am I?’
    ‘Every man in the room has been staring at you.’
    ‘But they’re all married. They stare without consequence.’
    ‘Only because it gives them so much harmless pleasure. But there must be enough single men in Norfolk to make up a posse. If I were not wed, I’d be among them.’
    ‘No woman wishes to be hunted by a pack.’
    ‘Then you must pick out a favourite. Who will it be?’
    ‘Why not ask the lord sheriff?’ she said meaningfully. ‘I can see that you’ve already discussed my marital prospects with him. It’s one of the penalties of becoming a widow. No sooner is one husband consigned to his grave than everyone wonders who will follow him. I’m surprised that a royal commissioner should take an interest in such pointless tittle-tattle.’
    Ralph backed off. ‘Accept my apologies,’ he said, penitently.
    ‘I’m not offended, my lord.’
    ‘You’ve every right to be. I should mind my own business.’
    ‘I’d agree with that,’ she said with a cold smile.’
    ‘You see? I did upset you.’
    ‘It will take a lot more than that to upset me.’
    A servant came between them to refill her cup with wine. When the man stood back, Ralph saw that the lady Adelaide was talking deliberately to the man on her other side and he chided himself for being too inquisitive. He had learned something about her character but nothing at all about the competing claims of her two suitors. Ralph was still wondering which of the men would finally lure her into marriage when one of the contenders made a dramatic appearance.
    Throwing open the door, a furious Richard de Fontenel came marching down the hall to stand accusingly in front of the sheriff. Servants froze in their positions and the buzz of conversation died instantly. Everyone turned to look at the enraged intruder. He gazed at the banquet with utter disgust before pointing directly at the host.
    ‘So this is where you are, my lord sheriff!’ he shouted. ‘My steward is savagely murdered and all you can do is fill your belly. Perform the office that’s required of you,’ he said, banging the table with a fist for emphasis. ‘Arrest the lord Mauger – now !’
    The festivities were at an end.

Chapter Four
    Covered with a shroud, the body lay on a stone slab in the morgue. Although it was a warm evening outside, there was an abiding chill in the air and Ralph Delchard gave a slight