The Scandal of the Skulls

by Cassandra Clark

  Hildegard became aware that one of the nuns was saying something to her as she sobbed. In some fit of madness she imagined trying to claw her own face and she fell to her knees and called on all the earthly and heavenly powers to create a miracle and bring him back.

  Somehow she found herself being led by the nun to a chamber at the back of the house overlooking a small, neat, herb garden where eventually she talked out as much of her grief as it seemed anybody else would ever want to hear.

  Next morning, after a night when she heard every hourly ring of bells from the cathedral, a strange strength of will came from nowhere, forcing her out of the house to make her way through the streets to meet Brother Gregory as arranged.

  It seemed odd to want to hear what, if anything, Friar Jonathan had discovered about another tragedy, one among the many in the world of men, but she went through the motions in the way she had been schooled. When she appeared at the West door, however, Gregory gave her an immediate and concerned look of alarm.

  ‘What ails you, Hildegard?’

  She shook her head. ‘I may have been ill. I’m well now. Where is he?’ She looked around, expecting see the Franciscan somewhere in the refectory but he was nowhere in sight.

  ‘Late. Still abed after carousing with his former school-fellows in the Cat, no doubt. But there has been a development.’

  He leaned forward after he had poured her morning drink and pushed the bread platter towards her. ‘But first, tell me what has happened to you since we parted yesterday.’

  ‘Gregory, I have had a shock. Something happened and it pierced me like an arrow to the heart - I know not - I cannot say more,’ she faltered.

  ‘Something happened after we parted?’

  She looked at his kindly face, his desert-tanned features with the lines of compassion etched into them by years of sorrow in Outremer, and thought how familiar he had become, almost like her own kin, and how he was a good friend to them all, and to be depended on in any danger. It allowed her to speak a little of Rivera after describing the shock of her meeting with de Lincoln on the previous evening when he had made his monstrous admission.

  ‘He was one of Swynford’s men-at-arms?’ Gregory repeated in incredulity.

  ‘I presume not the one who wielded the - ’ she gulped, ‘the axe.’

  ‘And now he seeks you out? Is he mad?’ He stretched a hand across the table and held hers in his firm grip. ‘Hubert told me there was something violent in your recent past. This must be what he meant. You must talk to him when he finishes his business in Lymington, talk when he comes on here.’

  ‘I could never talk to him about this.’

  ‘Then it will lie like a chasm between you for ever.’

  She knew he was right but the form of words she would have to use to express what was in her heart eluded her. She said, ‘You were going to tell me about something else?’

  ‘Yes, but now it hardly seems appropriate. Are you sure you want to - ?’

  ‘Please, Gregory, I beg you. I must live my life in the present with its immediate troubles and not dwell in the past on what cannot be changed.’

  He tightened his grip on her hand for a moment then said, ‘Very well. It is this. A witness with information concerning the night of Robin’s murder has come forward.’

  Hildegard listened intently. She was glad of the opportunity to forget her endless grief for Rivera. What Gregory was now telling her seemed surely to lead them to the murderer.

  ‘A man and wife who live in one of those cottages across the Close went to the constables,’ he said. ‘The husband admitted that his wife was woken up by a lot of shouting during the night Robin was murdered. He wasn’t going to get out of bed for it, he said, but when his wife insisted, he dragged himself to the window to have a look. He said there were several youths, maybe two or three, shouting and yelling over by the bell tower. He couldn’t make much out, apparently, as it was the middle of the night and the moon was hidden by clouds, but he’s sure they then went on into the cathedral where the masons are still working.’

  ‘Near the central tower where the rope from the windlass comes down?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So what did he do?’

  ‘Nothing. Of course, he’s blaming himself now for not taking it seriously. He says he thought it was just drunken lads cheating the curfew and making a nuisance of themselves, as they will. He expected the Watch to come and round them up.’

  ‘And did they?’

  ‘No. The lads eventually melted away into the darkness.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘He didn’t say. I expect so. Except for one, of course.’

  ‘So what else did he see?’

  ‘Nothing. He was too far away. And it was dark, as I’ve said.’

  ‘Could he hear what they were shouting? Did he catch any names?’

  Gregory looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t know whether anybody has asked him that.’

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’ She stuffed some cheese into her scrip for later and stood up.

  Gregory downed the contents of his beaker and pulled on his cloak. ‘Are you sure you want to get involved?’

  ‘I feel we already are, don’t you?’

  ‘I thought maybe in the circumstances - ’ he hesitated. ‘After what de Lincoln told you.’

  ‘Now, more than ever,’ she replied. ‘My heart goes out to Idonea. How could I stand by and do nothing when I know how she must feel? I shall not stand by if I ever get a chance to bring Swynford to justice either - at present I cannot see a way. Maybe, one day, when the new judges are not answerable to Swynford’s master the Duke of Gloucester? Maybe then?’

  He took her arm. ‘Maybe then, yes. A reckoning. Meanwhile, let’s go and see if we can squeeze a few more pips from this lemon.’

  ‘And his wife.’

  ‘And her too.’

  With Jonathan forgotten they headed for the cloister. A black-robed canon was just entering. When he drew level with Hildegard he opened his mouth as if to speak then, apparently thinking better of it, stepped aside with a murmured domina as she walked on.

  ‘And that was?’ murmured Gregory in her ear when they were outside. ‘Or can I guess?’

  ‘The former Head of the Signet Office, King Richard’s right-hand man, Richard Medford.’

  ‘Brought low, it seems.’ Gregory’s voice was full of pity. It was clear even to a stranger that Medford was in dire straits.

  FOURTEEN

  The cathedral cattle were grazing in the lush grass in the Close and the sky was filled with ragged clouds puffed along by the warm, late April breeze. A short walk across the open expanse brought them to a line of thatched cottages.

  The witness and his wife - or the two witnesses as Hildegard preferred to think of them, even though the law would not accept the woman’s statement without her husband’s verification - lived in the end cottage closest to the cathedral. It was last on a lane leading into the town and was the only one with a first floor window to give a clear view of the spire and the temporary masons’ yard beneath it.

  The housewife bustled to open the door when they knocked and was especially impressed by Gregory. Maybe it was because of his Cistercian robes, even though Hildegard was wearing a woman’s exact equivalent, or maybe it was his charm and good looks. Or maybe it was the way he introduced himself, as a qualified serjeant-at-law. Hildegard looked in astonishment at this. Gregory was a dark horse, she decided.

  The housewife, Mistress Marjory, invited them both to sit down on either side of the fire place while she pulled up a wooden chair and left her husband to fend for himself.

  ‘I can tell you everything that happened,’ she began.

  At once her husband interrupted. ‘Now that’s a flat lie, missus, and you know it. Who was the one to climb out of a warm bed and stand at the window in the freezing cold?’

  ‘I know you did your bit, Simon, but it was I, remember, who first heard the disturbance when it began.’ S
he turned to Gregory, ‘I’m a very light sleeper, brother. The slightest whisper of a sound brings me awake. I sleep like a cat.’

  Gregory nodded sympathetically. ‘And yet insomnia has its advantages,’ he murmured.

  She took this as the height of wisdom and repeated it several times. ‘But now, to what I say.’ She leaned back to survey her audience.

  Hildegard glanced quickly round the little room. It was as small as a hen house and twice as cosy. She imagined the couple bickering amiably through the long years of their decline. Both in their seventies, she guessed. A brood of grandchildren somewhere in the town. A son who had successfully escaped the shame of belonging to a gang. Pride in doing their civic duty. Everything spoke of order and humility.

  ‘It was shortly after prime,’ the wife began. ‘I do love to hear the monks chanting. Such a lovely sound if the wind’s right. Their voices drift across the Close like angel voices. And they had scarcely finished that night and let everything go quiet again when I heard these voices near at hand. Talking low, they were. Men taking a short cut from the town to the houses on the other side of the Close, as I guessed.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me this?’ interrupted her husband.

  ‘No, and why didn’t I?’ she flared. ‘Because I’m sick of hearing you moaning and groaning whenever I say I can’t sleep!’

  The old man mumbled something and stood in the middle of the room as if unsure where to sit now the best chairs had been taken.

  ‘Oh do take the weight off your feet, you old fool,’ his wife scolded. ‘Look, there’s another stool by the window. How many do you need for your fat - ’ she blushed and gave a hurried cough, aware of the impropriety of what she had been about to say in front of two monastics. Or one, really, as she ignored Hildegard as if she was an uninvited ghost.

  Brother Gregory leaned forward. He was at his most smooth, Hildegard noted with interest.

  ‘Tell me, mistress,’ he began, ‘when you heard these men talking did they sound angry or amused or merely drunk?’

  ‘Serious. That’s what they sounded like. Very serious. I thought maybe they were two merchants discussing business but then what would respectable folk like that be doing out after curfew?’

  ‘Did you hear any actual words to give a clue as to their subject? Were there any goods mentioned? Prices? Names?’ Gregory’s soft brown eyes probed her expression. ‘Any names, mistress?’

  ‘Nothing like that, magister. Only snatches of phrases like - ’ she furrowed her brow, ‘like he has it coming - take the smile off and - do him some good.’

  ‘Unfriendly, then? Serious and unfriendly?’

  ‘More matter-of-fact, if you see what I mean.’

  Hildegard sat up. She had said to Gregory that the method of the murderer seemed to be calculated, not spontaneous, and now this was being partly corroborated by the manner of the strangers in the night – if indeed they had anything to do with it at all.

  ‘Do you have any idea who these men were?’ she interjected.

  The housewife was startled. Apparently she had not expected a nun to speak. Flummoxed, she turned to her husband. ‘Did you not hear them, Simon?’

  ‘I heard you all right. Tossing and turning and muttering to yourself.’

  ‘Oh, that’s like me!’ exclaimed Gregory. ‘I’m assured by the other monks in my dormitory that I mutter in my sleep too. I often wonder what secrets I’m accidentally giving away. What was your wife muttering about, master?’

  ‘Rubbish as usual,’ he replied. ‘Don’t wake the baby, she cries out. As if it’s not long since when we had a baby in the house.’

  The wife gave the husband a reproachful look. Before another round of argument could be embarked on Gregory said, ‘To go back to these two men - you did say two, mistress?’

  She nodded. ‘Definitely. Two were speaking at any rate.’

  ‘These two, let’s assume. Now then, do you think they were young or old?’

  ‘One was old. He sounded quite gruff but not as old as my man here. More, fiftyish? The other one might have been younger. I only heard a few words, it was more murmuring than talking out loud, and their voices were fading as well by the time I was fully awake.’

  ‘So they must have passed right under your window?’

  ‘Why yes, brother. That’s what I’ve been saying. They were on the path from one side of the town to the other.’

  ‘What made you believe they went off in the direction of the cathedral?’

  ‘Because a minute or so later all the shouting broke out. And then he woke up and heard them.’ She nodded to include her husband.

  Hildegard turned to him. ‘I understand you volunteered this information to the constables yourself?’

  ‘I knew they’d come knocking eventually so I thought I’d save them the trouble.’

  ‘Do they usually proceed quickly when they collect witness statements?’

  ‘Not very. They’re an idle lot. As bad as the Watch. Where were they when they were needed? Never a shadow when you need the buggers - ’

  ‘Oh that poor boy, though,’ his wife interrupted, effectively diverting attention from her husband’s blunt expression. ‘And his grieving mother, poor dear Joan, that’s to say MistressTreadwell.’ She wiped away a tear, real or imagined. ‘Who could have done such a wicked thing?’

  Brother Gregory stretched his legs. ‘You’ve been most helpful. As I now understand it, thanks to your observations, two older men walked across to the cathedral and a little later a deal of shouting broke out?’

  The wife shook her head. ‘No, no. That’s not it. First there was the lads, shouting. Which woke me, as I said. Then them two older men going across. To sort it out, maybe. And then they must have done so because it all stopped. And we went back to sleep.’

  ‘You might have,’ grumbled Simon, ‘I was awake by then and didn’t get back to sleep until it was time to get up again.’

  ‘Ah so it goes,’ sighed Gregory. ‘I’m the same after the night office. I rarely sleep again afterwards.’ He smiled with what Hildegard regarded as excessive warmth. ‘I would be honoured, mistress, if I might return with the domina if we think of anything else to ask you. Perhaps some names may come to mind?’ He glanced from one to the other but they stared back without responding.

  ‘And of course, if you suddenly find you have anything else, no matter how slight, to add to what you’ve told us, please do not delay. Come straight to me in the guest house at the Cathedral. The guest-master will help you find me.’

  ‘We’ll do that, won’t we, Simon?’

  ‘If you say so, mistress.’

  ‘I do say so.’

  ‘Then it’s as good as sealed with the Great Seal of the Lord Chancellor himself.’

  Hildegard wondered if he was being ironic but his expression was as straight-faced as his wife’s.

  As soon as she and Gregory were outside, she turned to him. ‘I didn’t know you were a serjeant-at-law? You kept that quiet!’

  ‘That’s how I met Hubert. We studied law at the Temple. It was only after that I decided to go to Palestine to rescue Jerusalem from the Saracen. Hubert stayed here and made himself powerful in the Order.’

  She wondered if he had any regrets. There was no way of knowing how he felt about their difference in fortunes. Now was not the time to ask.

  She said, ‘It was interesting about the two men.’

  ‘If you believe her.’

  ‘You doubt her?’

  ‘She was totally unreliable. All right, so she was half asleep as she admitted, even so, she was most contradictory. It might have been no more than a dream. She struck me as the sort of person who longs to be important. And now, with only a husband to impress, she wishes for a wider audience.’

  ‘Even so - ’

  ‘Even so you may be right to believe her. I need your still untarnished faith in people, Hildegard.’

  ‘My what? You couldn’t be more wrong! I lost my faith, my trust, on the day Rive
ra was executed.’

  ‘I think something remains. Otherwise you would not be so destroyed by de Lincoln’s confession.’

  Their hawk appeared. He was looking pensive. When he saw them he fell into step and together they strolled across the Close as if they were simply sharing a few deep thoughts about the next Office of the day.

  In fact, Jonathan spoke in an irritable tone as if he couldn’t help himself. ‘They told me nothing. They’re a closed shop, dedicated to preserving their stupid, sacred mysteries. I’ve never met such a granite-faced bunch. It concerns us all, the whole town, what happened to Robin. How can they imagine they’re exempt from the same questions everyone is being asked?’

  ‘So you didn’t find anything out?’ Hildegard gave him a sympathetic glance.

  ‘I did not. I feel shamed when I promised I could help.’

  ‘Sometimes the simplest things turn out to be the most difficult,’ Gregory supplied in a tone that was intended to be helpful.

  It made Jonathan give a snort of annoyance. ‘It just makes it clear that they’re hiding something.’

  ‘Of course,’ murmured Gregory, ‘they’re hiding the fact that some members of their fraternity may have participated in the heinous act of murder.’

  ‘You could be right. Idonea is serious about believing her brother is involved,’ he admitted.

  ‘Will she tell you anything to incriminate him?’ Hildegard asked.

  ‘She will not, domina. She’s always been at logger-heads but even so, blood is thicker than water - ’ he heaved a massive sigh. ‘To think I used to regard those fellows as friends. We grew up to together. Now they see me as somebody who’s gone over to the enemy.’

  ‘Unless and until someone comes forward and breaks their silence there’s little either we or the serjeant can do.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, brother. But someone will break sooner or later.’

  Gregory slanted a look. ‘You mean, if they are enticed - by payment, perhaps?’

  Jonathan nodded.

  The monk gave a thin smile. ‘Thus it ever was.’ He turned to Hildegard, ‘That became something of a catchphrase with us on our ride through France, do you remember? We had to pay so many off in order to keep our identities safe from the French dukes.’