Blood Moon (12 page)

‘We have unfinished business, you and I,’ he breathed. ‘Don’t imagine anything on that score has changed. And when all this is over, rest assured we will speak again.’

‘When all what is over, my lord?’
I choked.

He didn’t reply but
turned smartly and marched out of the room letting the door bang shut after him.

I have never been so relieved to see the back of anyone. After a moment I fell gratefully to my knees with the room swimming around me and looking down I was amazed to see broken pottery on the floor and realised it was the vinegar bowl I had been holding.

‘Well,’ I coughed to the empty room. ‘It is always pleasant to renew old acquaintances.’

I dragged myself onto the gatekeeper’s stool with my legs still unsteady beneath me and my bowels loosening. My throat felt as though a hammer had hit it but with each swallow it was getting easier so there was probably no permanent damage done. I didn’t really think he’d kill me - not then at any rate. But what did amaze me was that he hadn’t arrested me. It was surely an ideal opportunity given the circumstances. The old Geoffrey de Saye would have done so without a moment’s hesitation. But like a great many unanswered questions that day it would be a while before I learned the reason why.

Chapter 13

A CHAPTER OF LIES

The
next morning the abbey was rife with rumour about Raoul’s dramatic escape from Anselm’s tower. All had heard the hue and cry which had gone on for most of the night and many of my brothers approached me for details having heard of my part in the affair – or what they thought was my part in it. It was curious how much each man’s version of events differed from the next, and so far from the truth that in the end I was unclear myself as to exactly what happened. I had been hoping my two friends, the gaoler and the gatekeeper, might be able to shed more light but when I looked for them I learned to my distress that they had both been put in the town stocks. This seemed excessive punishment simply for losing a prisoner but entirely in keeping with Lord de Saye’s vindictive nature. As soon as I was able, I hurried to the marketplace where I did indeed find them shackled by their ankles and wrists and to my further dismay saw that de Saye had also silenced them with gags so they could not tell what had really happened. But I could at least examine their wounds and to reassure their questioning eyes that nothing worse would befall them. In this I spoke more in hope than conviction since nothing was certain where de Saye was concerned.

I returned to the abbey in time for Chapter where I was disturbed to find de Saye already seated at the front next to the prior. Now what? More games? Seeing him here at least gave me hope that our meeting in the gatekeeper’s lodge might have worried him more than he pretended and that I was therefore onto something. But what I saw beside him now made my heart sink. A table had been erected upon which was prominently displayed Raoul’s bloodied cap and next to it, mercifully hidden by a clean linen cloth, was what I guessed from the shape must be the remains of poor Effie. I could see that we were in for some of de Saye’s theatricals.

Prior Herbert opened the Chapter with the usual prayer of supplication:

‘The Peace of the Lord be with you and may He give His blessing on these our solemn deliberations - Amen.’

The response was more muted than usual in deference
, I presumed, to the dead person in our midst, and there was no reading today from the Rule. Instead, Prior Herbert waited until every last shuffle and cough had died away before rising again slowly and beginning his address which he did in a voice that was barely audible:

‘Brothers, you have all heard the news I know. Yesterday morning the body of a young girl was found in the marketplace which has since been identified as being that of the maid to the Lady Adelle de Gray and her husband, Raoul.’

This was greeted with gasps of anguish. It was indeed dreadful news, not just because of the death but because of who the victim was. Along with her master and mistress Effie was a guest of the abbey and therefore under Saint Edmund’s personal protection. It is thus a great dishonour to him and to the abbey that any harm should have come to her whilst in our care.

‘How did she die?’ came a voice from the back of the room.

‘Strangled,’ Herbert replied glancing at de Saye for confirmation. ‘Yes, I believe she was strangled.’

It was just as I feared: Herbert was allowing himself to be manipulated by de Saye – something Abbot Samson would never have permitted and possibly not Hugh Northwold either. Where
was Hugh now when we needed him?

More agonized murmurings now from my brother monks. ‘Is there a suspect?’ asked one. ‘Do we
have a name?’

‘We do not know for certain,’ Herbert admitted, ‘but evidence points to the girl’s master as her likely murderer. My lord de Saye here, acting with my full authority, arrested Raoul de Gray shortly after the discovery of the body and placed him in the abbey lockup. However, late yesterday afternoon he managed to escape and is currently at large.’

Louder groans of distress came from my brothers.

‘He had help, of course,’ Herbert continued. ‘He could not have managed it alone. The question is, help from whom?’

He looked meaningfully around the room and while he did not look directly at me everyone in the room knew I’d been there when Raoul escaped. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.

‘It has been suggested,’ Herbert went on after a suitable pause, ‘that the Lady Adelle was somehow complicit. But we have to ask ourselves if a mere female, especially one of such gentle and noble birth and so recently weakened by the efforts of
giving birth, would have had the strength to free her husband from a secure cell, or how she could have achieved it?’

Ask the gatekeeper, I felt like saying, he will tell you how – with guile and cunning. The voice at the back of the room piped up again:

‘You mentioned evidence, Brother Prior?’

Herbert nodded. ‘Thank you brother, I was just coming to that. But first we have to ask ourselves why? Why did he run? After all, is
this the action of an innocent man? Why did he not remain to defend himself? And why did the Lady Adelle not try to dissuade him?’

More murmurings of disquiet from my brothers, but that voice at the back spoke up again:

‘Any fox will run when he sees the flash of the farmer’s knife. It does not prove he stole the chicken.’

A
chuckle or two at this eased the tension a little. I looked round to see if I could identify the owner of the voice but could not. But Herbert was not to be thrown so easily. He conferred quickly with de Saye before turning abruptly to the table beside him and lifting from it Raoul’s battered cap - using the same little stick, I noticed, that I had used in the marketplace the previous day. The cap looked much as it had then except that the blood had congealed into an even stickier mess. A gasp of revulsion went up as brothers recoiled from it.

‘This was found beside the body of the murdered girl,’ Herbert announced waving the wretched thing around
dramatically.

‘What is it?’ whispered one agitated voice.

‘A cap,’ answered his neighbour.

‘Indeed it is,’ said Herbert. ‘A
man’s
cap. And I can confirm that it has been irrefutably identified as belonging to Raoul de Gray.’

More moans from the room. I was growing more and more
uneasy as the drama unfolded. This was turning into a trial
with Herbert as prosecution counsel. But where was the defence? Or, for that matter, the judge? But Herbert was unrelenting:

‘Some of you may have heard the rumours about this boy. What we know for sure is that at the very moment his wife was giving birth to their first child and most in need of her husband’s support, Raoul de Gray was in the town cavorting with prostitutes and drunkards. And when he returns at last the worse for ale and doubtless still filled with unsated lust, what does he do? His wife, nobly modest before her newborn infant, naturally declines his attentions, so he turns instead to the one person unable to resist his advances: His wife’s maid. We can only guess where those excesses may have taken him.’

This was outrageous. Herbert could not possibly have known what had gone on in the privacy of the de Gray’s bedchamber. But his graphic description had the effect he wanted. Heads were beginning to shake in disgust and I even saw one or two fists being shaken. It was no good, I could remain silent no longer.

‘Just one moment, Brother Prior,’ I said rising to my feet.

‘Ah,’ smiled Herbert. ‘Master Walter - the fugitive’s friend.’

All heads turned to look at me.
Now I was being accused too by association. There was no passing this cup from my lips. I had to reply:

‘Not his friend, Brother Prior, merely one who wishes to see justice done. The accused
man is not here to answer for himself so I must. What you say is mere supposition. There is no evidence that Raoul harmed the girl.’

‘
You do not deny he behaved aggressively towards her? You told me as much yourself - in the presence of a witness.’ He indicated de Saye.

‘What I said was he may have
disciplined
her,’ I said, ‘as is the right and duty of any good master. And that is a long way from murder.’

‘Who can say how far he went?’ returned Herbert. ‘Drunkards are rarely in command of
their actions. Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe that’s all of it. If so then he should return here and own to his mistake. If not we can only suppose his reasons for running away.’

‘But
he wasn’t drunk,’ I countered. ‘At least, not on the night of the murder. He was drugged.’

Gasps all round at this and Herbert’s eye twinkled. ‘I take it you have proof for this bizarre claim?’

I was about to say I did, but then I remembered I’d already thrown the vomit away careful this time not leave the poison lying around. I hadn’t thought I’d need it again. No doubt Herbert’s spies had told him all this as well. No wonder he was looking so smug.

‘Well?’ prompted Herbert when I didn’t reply.

‘A quantity of henbane went missing from my shelves. I believe the thief may have used it to taint Raoul’s drink.’

‘You
believe
,’ snorted Herbert.

‘
No - more than that: I
know
his ale couldn’t have incapacitated him,’ I insisted. ‘It was virtually water.’

Even before my words were fully out I knew the mistake I’d made.

Herbert paused to allow my gaffe to resonate fully. ‘Was it, indeed? And how could you possibly know that, brother - unless you were drinking it yourself?’

There was no point denying it. Groans of disapproval now from my brothers
, even from those who might have been sympathetic. I’d made a complete hash of it. I glanced at de Saye who was gazing levelly back at me in triumph. Herbert, too, was looking pleased with himself - and why should he not? Like any well-prepared advocate he was only asking the questions to which he already knew the answers. Was there anything his spies had not told him?

‘Master Walter,’ he continued in leaden tones, ‘your litany of indiscretions astounds even me. If you’re not visiting young ladies alone in their private rooms you are drinking in taverns with their husbands.
We have to wonder what sort of degenerate we been harbouring in our midst.’

I snorted at the absurdity of that remark. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. We are getting away from the plain fact which is that Raoul de Gray could not have strangled this maid
.’

‘Oh? Why?’

‘For the simple reason that at the time of the murder he was -’

I stopped. My brother monks stared silently agog to hear my next revelation. But I didn’t have to. Herbert finished it for me:

‘For the simple reason that he was asleep
on your floor
.’

I looked round at my brother monks. Not one of them could meet my gaze. This was far worse tha
n visiting Adelle in her chamber or drinking with her husband in The Hanged Man – worse, possibly, even than murder. A drunken man asleep on cloistered ground and in the cell of a senior obedientiary - it was an outrage. Even those who had previously been on my side were now shaking their heads in dismay.

Herbert was conferring once again with de Saye. ‘If this is true,’ he said rising, ‘it is yet another woeful admission. But even so we have only your word for it. You may simply be inventing more lies.’

‘No, this time I have a witness,’ I blustered on.

Herbert smiled.
‘Then produce him.’

I’d meant Dominic. He would be able to confirm that we had nursed Raoul on my floor of my cell while the murder was being committed. Indeed, it was he who had done the nursing while I went back to my own cot. And conveniently, here he was seated right next to me. I turned to him now but as I did so I saw the look of horror on his face at being dragged into the fray – and I simply couldn’t do it, not to save Raoul’s neck
, not even to salvage my own reputation. It would be the end of his life in the abbey. I stood staring at him unable to go on or to think of a way out. The silence became oppressive. Finally with a dismissive wave of his hand Herbert sat down whereupon the room erupted.

But I needed one last chance:

‘The cap!’ I yelled above the rumpus.

Herbert looked up wearily. ‘What about it?’