Sir Maurice did not falter. ‘Yes! What a fool! An enemy to his own brethren! Who would believe a mason could betray his brethren? Had he no honour? Of course I climbed up here. Who else could move the windlass by himself?’
De Lincoln managed bring his hands together in a slow hand-clap. ‘Well done, old man. The wheel of fortune turns! But wait until Arundel hears of this. Wait until the list of Burley’s supporters is nailed to the doors of Westminster Hall!’
Sir Maurice turned with a howl of rage. ‘Let me at the traitor!’
He lunged passionately towards de Lincoln who, though wounded, was still able to defend himself.
With one arm hooked round a treadle of the windlass he parried the knight’s sword, an ironic smile on his face, and within a moment it clattered predictably out of Sir Maurice’s hand. De Lincoln made a grab for Hildegard and propelled her towards the opening where the cable dropped to the floor of the crossing.
To her he said, ‘Come with me, my lovely! We have no choice. Our destiny awaits!’
His intention became suddenly obvious.
Even the onlookers realised what was about to happen and a gasp arose.
‘Don’t do it!’ ordered the serjeant.
Trapped, de Lincoln had seen that he had no choice if he didn’t want to be taken alive. The gap in the floor with its long, plummeting drop was drawing him unstoppably. Horrified, Hildegard pulled back. There was a tussle that brought them closer to the brink.
‘Let’s leave all this and die together!’ he growled. ‘We’ll share kisses forever be it in heaven or hell!’
‘No, de Lincoln,’ she protested. ‘Live! Face them!’
‘I am already dead,’ he gasped. ‘Look how I bleed! And since you refuse to hand me the list of traitors you must come with me.’
‘But you reneged on your fealty to the king’s enemies. You’ll be pardoned!’
‘Words, my lady! The cheapest commodity we have.’ He began to laugh. ‘I am Bolingbroke’s man and always will be!’
He gripped a handful of cloth from her skirt and to the horrified shouts of the onlookers forced her towards the drop. The wind moaned round them with the force of the updraught as she fumbled to find a grip on the wooden struts round the opening and she felt her fingers slipping as de Lincoln pushed her closer towards the edge.
‘You lied to me!’ she shouted above the howl of the wind.
‘Of course I lied! But it didn’t move you. They’ll find the list of traitors when you’re dead. They are already doomed. So come with me! Share my fate! Let’s die together!’
Before de Lincoln could put his diabolical plan into action an authoritative voice rang out above the tumult. ‘Release her!’
Someone grabbed her round the waist from behind and for a long moment all three of them, Hildegard, de Lincoln and the unexpected stranger, struggled at the edge of the drop. De Lincoln still grappled at her robes and now he stumbled and almost lost his footing. Yet with his superhuman strength he managed to force her further over the edge until she could see down into the nave to the stone floor two hundred feet below and he was still grasping her robes in his blood-soaked hand as she struggled to free herself and felt her grip on the wooden struts beginning to slip.
Then de Lincoln himself began to weaken as he shifted his grasp and tried to stop himself from plunging down first to his death. The fabric he held began to tear. He swayed for one long moment on the brink as the torn cloth suddenly came away in his hand.
He was staring back at Hildegard. His glance was locked on hers. In it she saw rage, triumph, fear, astonishment and then a look she did not recognise. And then abruptly he was gone.
She imagined she could hear the parting of the air in his long descent to the bottom of the tower.
There was silence.
She clung onto the edge in a paralysis of shock. Then she felt herself being hauled to safety and she turned with a gasp of gratitude into the arms of her rescuer.
But she could only stare.
‘Hubert? Hubert de Courcy?’ She reached out with one trembling hand to touch his face. ‘My lord abbot, you could have been killed!’
THIRTY SEVEN
Abbot de Courcy did not seem perturbed by the fact that he, a Cistercian abbot, follower of the remorseless rules laid down by Bernard of Clairvaux for his monks, was seen in public with his arms round a nun. Nor did he seem inclined to release her even when one of these monks approached.
Brother Gregory slapped him on the back. ‘Quick thinking, my lord abbot. Who would ever have believed he would try to damn his soul to eternal hell fire by taking Hildegard with him? I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.’
‘Is she wounded?’ asked Hubert as if Hildegard could not speak for herself.
‘It’s de Lincoln’s blood, not mine,’ she mumbled.
‘No, I think you bleed here. Look.’ He tenderly lifted her shift away from the tear in her habit to reveal her shoulder.
‘A flesh wound only,’ she explained, conscious of all eyes watching them.
The serjeant came over and gingerly peered over the edge of the drop into the nave.
He turned to his men. ‘Go down and get that mess cleared up.’ His voice was hard. ‘Slow as Christmas,’ he growled. ‘Five constables bested by a couple of monks and a nun.’
His cold glance swept over Sir Maurice without comment.
Later, after a good meal at the George, the drama was told again with little variation on what Hildegard and Gregory had already recounted to the serjeant. Satisfied, he had gone off to attend the declining behaviour of the May celebrants, the streets by now sickly with the smell of trampled hawthorn blossoms, blood, urine and spilled ale.
They were telling the story again to Hubert and Brother Edgar when their hawk appeared. Gregory made room for him on the bench and poured him a beaker of wine. The boy looked flattered to be in such august company and glanced at the lord abbot in awe.
Egbert was smiling from Hildegard to Gregory. ‘We expected you to be having a quiet time of it,’ he observed. ‘It’s we, so we thought, who were faced with rough dealings in Lymington.’
‘That water front,’ agreed Hubert with a contented smile, ‘but nothing we couldn’t sort out.’
‘I’m still not clear who it was who set the windlass going to bring up the body of that poor youth,’ Egbert puzzled.
‘One of the windlass men deliberately led me astray,’ Hildegard explained. ‘No stranger came up to bribe the two of them. They were not even present. It’s against guild rules. That night they were simply in their usual haunt, a place called the Hawthorn. Gregory suspected as much when he went to cajole them into talking to him.’
‘I checked their story with an innocent drinker present in the Hawthorn on that same night. He had cause to remember because he lost a week’s wages at dominoes to Ulric. It suggested that someone else – de Lincoln as I thought – had been the stranger with the gift of gold willing to climb the steeple.’
‘Our young friar here smoothed our path. He led me to question the fellows who worked the windlass,’ Hildegard continued. ‘One of them was much less adept at lying than his partner. He didn’t say much. His face gave him away. We suspected that they weren’t in the steeple that night after all.’
‘But then, we didn’t know who was. Someone was, of course, in order to haul up the body. De Lincoln seemed to me to be the most likely candidate. But it made no sense. It had to be someone connected to the list of men who had given gold for the release of Sir Simon, someone who realised they might be betrayed, someone from the masons’ inner circle.’ Hildegard added. ‘That let out another suspect.’ She did not name Richard Medford who would have been as familiar as anyone with the plan of the cathedral and whose name was also on the list.
‘As you heard from his own lips it was the master’s brother-in-law, Sir Maurice, who decided to get rid of the traitor in their midst as soon as he saw an opportunity,’ Gregory took up the story. ‘As far as we can say
, while the others, led innocently enough by Frank, trussed Robin up to teach him a lesson, Sir Maurice and Master Gervase came out from the house to find out what the commotion in the Close was that night. They intended to sort it out by imposing a few fines. We’ll probably never know the exact sequence of events but maybe Master Gervase told them off and took a note of who they were and then decided he could leave them to release Robin themselves. Perhaps he then turned back for home. Sir Maurice lingered, maybe saying he would stay to make sure they did as ordered, and then he had an idea. All he had to do was tell the lads he would handle Robin then climb up to the windlass and haul him out of reach.’
Gregory turned to Hildegard. ‘But there in the steeple you suddenly knew without any doubt that the guilty man was de Quincy. Why were you so certain?’
‘It was his ring. When he was strutting about I saw it flash. And then I remember the wound down the side of Frank’s cheek and what he had said when we hauled him from the shaft. It fitted.’
Gregory nodded. ‘Well observed.’ He took over. ‘When the masons realised what had happened and which way the wind was blowing they got together to protect their master by throwing everybody off the scent of his brother-in-law, a fellow notorious for his fiery temper. Of course, they were protecting their own jobs as well.’ He added, ‘The serjeant will get nowhere if he decides to appeal them and he knows it. Given the strength of local support for Sir Simon Burley anyone who sets out to help him earns everyone’s praise. It’s the general view that justice has been done by cutting down a traitor in their midst.’
‘So it has no chance of getting to court,’ Hubert hazarded.
‘None whatsoever.’ Gregory was emphatic.
‘We should have followed up what an old couple living across the Close told us,’ Hildegard said.
Gregory chuckled. ‘With all their bickering it’s a wonder they heard anything.’
‘Apparently they heard the voices of two men crossing the Close that night round about the time the racket started,’ she explained. ‘We failed to insist on names because they denied any knowledge of who the men were. They must have recognised them because both men are well-known, but they led us to believe they knew nothing ad we failed to insist.’
‘I doubt whether they could have agreed even on that point of fact,’ smiled Gregory.
‘But how could anybody conceive of such a plan?’ asked Hubert still shocked by events.
‘It was an opportunistic murder. When Gervase left them to untie Robin it was then Maurice must have had the idea of setting the windlass going.’
‘He’s a strong old devil,’ Jonathan commented
‘I couldn’t understand why the men hadn’t raised the alarm if they were working up there. That would have been the natural thing to do. Their excuse wasn’t convincing,’ said Hildegard. ‘They said they didn’t want the bother of being first finders.’ She frowned. ‘Another thing that puzzles me,’ she admitted, ‘is how Idonea has come to be married to the master after she vowed never to wed an old man.’
‘Hardly old,’ Gregory objected. ‘Surely no more than his mid-thirties.’
‘It’s ancient to a girl of sixteen.’
He conceded the point. ‘But you said de Lincoln came up with a reason.’
‘He told me she wants revenge for Robin’s death.’ She explained to the others.
‘Do you believe him?’
Hildegard frowned. ‘I don’t want to believe him. Nothing much he said proved to be true in the end, did it?’
‘Someone should warn the girl that she’s contemplating a great sin and if she goes ahead she will be damned for ever,’ suggested Hubert. ‘Even if so monstrous an allegation is true no crime has been committed so far, except in the girl’s heart for which if she sincerely makes confession she can be pardoned.’
He rose to his feet and looked down at Hildegard and Gregory in a rather critical manner. ‘I must say you two seem to have worked very closely.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Hildegard spontaneously, ‘and I owe Brother Gregory a great debt for his unstinting protection.’
She smiled warmly at him until she caught sight of Hubert’s face set in familiar stern lines. Quickly she added, ‘And I owe my life to you, my lord.’
Hubert dismissed this with a brief gesture.
‘I must go and say my farewells,’ she told them, also rising to her feet. ‘First to Sister Elwis for her kindness and understanding and then to my daughter and her betrothed.’
‘And I shall accompany Friar Jonathan to the market cross to give him a helping hand against his Domincan rivals,’ smiled Gregory rising athletically to his feet. ‘Are you going to join us, Egbert?’
‘I surely am.’
‘After that,’ added Gregory, ‘I trust we are for the peace and harmony of the Abbey of Meaux!’
‘So pray we all,’ Egbert agreed.
Hubert watched Gregory leave with an ambiguous expression and when he turned Hildegard had already left.
Apart from the wrench of parting from her daughter yet again she was delighted to find that she had been welcomed whole-heartedly into Ivo’s family. Arrangements for their future were already underway. Ysabella would return to the countess as before and Ivo was to go down to his father’s mine in the West Country to gain some practical experience. A wedding was planned when both were sixteen. It all seemed most happily arranged.
Next she went to collect her things from her lodgings and say farewell to Sister Elwis and her nuns. Mistress Treadwell was present. ‘I’m only here as a lay sister, to try things,’ she told Hildegard. ‘I suppose I could do worse.’
On an impulse Hildegard decided to make one more call before she left.
The house of Master Gervase was still in celebratory mood after the wedding. Gervase was somewhat put out by Hildegard’s appearance at first until he realised she had not come to stir up trouble.
‘About my brother-in-law,’ he murmured when his housekeeper had plied her with wine, ‘he has strong views. I guessed he was at the bottom of it. I had no intention of shifting blame onto poor Frank but I had to protect Maurice because he did not know what he was doing. His righteous rages drive him to folly. He cannot control himself. Ever since France when he was most grievously wounded in the head we have had to watch him. He flares up without warning as if the devil has got hold of him and we are powerless to talk sense to the poor soul. I fear it was the head wound that has done for his senses for ever. And you see how it is in a place like this? Everyone believes that justice has been done. The guilty have been punished. One more skull adorning the town walls would change nothing in the destiny of the realm.’
Hildegard said only, ‘Some believe guild matters are best dealt with by the guild.’
‘Quite so,’ affirmed Gervase.
Before she left she was taken aside by Idonea. ‘I pray you’ve said nothing to my husband about that man de Lincoln and his worthless promises to me?’
Hildegard was astonished at this and could not imagine what promises de Lincoln might have made until she realised that he had probably planned to recruit Idonea into his network of informants – and had maybe promised even more.
‘He would have used you the way he used Robin, to speak against your friends.’
‘I know that now.’
Hildegard turned the subject to the girl’s choice of husband.
Idonea’s view was that she may as well marry a wealthy man and be miserable than marry a poor man and be miserable anyway.
‘Robin was not good husband material. I knew that all along. He really only wanted to sin with me and nothing more. Frank was right,’ she gave Hildegard a half smile, ‘but I beg you not to tell him so.’ As for any thoughts of revenge, she now dismissed that as mere angry talk. All was forgiven.
The glances she kept bestowing on Gervase were indulgent and Hildegard noticed that she treated him rather as a master would treat a dancing bear, with a certain stern kindliness and firmness of will.
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br /> Gervase was plainly delighted with his bride. Hildegard’s hope was that his shining adoration would surely deflect any fleeting intentions to do with henbane.
One final visit engaged her attention. It was to the cathedral where she found the spot where de Lincoln had fallen to his death. Nothing now remained of his iniquitous life. She stood looking up into the vast echo chamber of the steeple. Random sounds were augmented and they spun round the vast hollow before fading to nothing. Like our lives, she thought, like the minutes and years of our lives. And then silence.
Taking out her knife she knelt on one of the flagstones where the masons had recently been working and scratched a small cross in the stone. It was no larger than the knuckle of her middle finger and on both sides of the vertical she inscribed r and p – requiescat in pacem. She did not know now what level of misery and perhaps cruelty had brought de Lincoln to such a pitch of traitorous endeavour nor would she ever know. It would remain with him through eternity, his destiny, indeed.
A few days later Abbot de Courcy’s small group was at last ready to set out on the long journey by road up the length of England to their abbey in the East Riding of Yorkshire.
Together with four horses hired from the town ostler they had three pack animals to carry provisions and other necessities. These included a small, heavy object that Ulric solemnly handed over to Hildegard with a gruff, ‘From Frank. He can’t get out yet.’
‘Thank him,’ replied Hildegard, weighing the object in her hand.
Ulric hovered for a moment and when Hildegard lifted her head he muttered, ‘And my most deep apologies for the deception, domina. Like you we have our sworn mysteries which no man may admit on pain of death. Our loyalties are as firm as the rock with which we build.’
After he left, Hubert came over to have a look at what he had given her.
‘A gift?’ He looked at it with suspicion. ‘From whom?’
‘From a man whose life I saved,’ she replied. ‘A gift makes him feel easier about it. Just as I shall forever be in your debt.’
The Scandal of the Skulls Page 33
