Book of Shadows

by Paul Doherty

  Louise nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘I’ll answer for her,’ Hetherington spoke up. ‘As you know, Mistress Condosti is my ward. I have given her every comfort and luxury, as much freedom as she wishes. Perhaps a little more than I should have done.’ He leaned over and patted Louise affectionately on her hand. ‘Two years ago, Mistress Swinbrooke, the King and the House of York were overthrown, Margaret of Anjou and the Lancastrian faction entered London. In that army came many adventurers, including an impoverished French nobleman, Charles de Preau. Now de Preau was handsome, charming, dashing and gallant.’ Hetherington paused and licked his lips. ‘London was in turmoil. The Lancastrians were desperate for money. I and the other goldsmiths were summoned to innumerable banquets and festivities. The real purpose was to obtain monies at the lowest rate of interest possible. Louise accompanied me to a splendid supper held at Sheen Palce: feasting, dancing, revelry, even the fountains ran with wine. She met de Preau: clever in speech, most sensitive in his dealings and learned in all the subtleties of romance.’ Hetherington glanced at Kathryn. ‘Must I spell it out, Mistress Swinbrooke? Louise was really no more than a child. She gave her heart to de Preau; he seduced her.’

  Louise sat, back rigid, hands in her lap, staring down at the floor.

  ‘Louise is no longer virgo intacta, as the malicious gossips would say, she is used goods.’

  ‘Such an occurrence,’ Kathryn replied briskly, ‘is not a matter for condemnation.’ She smiled at Louise. ‘The heart can be a wayward guide yet how could Tenebrae come to know something like that?’

  ‘Because,’ Louise replied flatly, ‘I became pregnant, Mistress Swinbrooke. Two months later the Lancastrian forces left London, de Preau was killed at Barnet. I miscarried, the child within me died. Tenebrae must have heard about it.’

  ‘Who tended to you?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘Brissot,’ Hetherington replied.

  ‘Ah!’ Kathryn leaned back in her chair.

  ‘I am not saying,’ Hetherington asserted, ‘that Brissot was the source of the information. Others knew.’

  ‘Does your betrothed, Neverett?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘I think he does,’ Louise replied shyly. ‘One day I will have to tell him.’ She rubbed her mouth and Kathryn saw she was trembling. ‘But, to be fair to Brissot, as Sir Raymond said, others also learnt about it.’

  ‘Who?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘Members of the Guild,’ Hetherington replied. ‘Greene and Dauncey undoubtedly suspected.’

  Kathryn studied Louise carefully. She showed no relief, her hands were still trembling as she played with the gold tassels of the cord round her waist. Kathryn leaned over and squeezed her ice-cold fingers.

  ‘There was more, wasn’t there? Tell me,’ Kathryn insisted. ‘Why should a lovely young woman like you be closeted with a creature like Tenebrae?’

  ‘Because I was in love!’ Louise cried. ‘Mistress Kathryn, have you ever been in love? I loved Charles de Preau with all my heart and mind. Every time I came to Canterbury I visited Tenebrae to discover how our relationship would end.’

  Kathryn caught the steel in the young woman’s voice and sensed the emotions bubbling hotly within her.

  ‘Oh, Tenebrae was good,’ Louise continued. ‘He’d play those damned cards: it was he who prophesied the danger, showing me the two of swords. After Charles was killed I was convinced.’ She dried the tears from her cheeks. ‘Last autumn I came back here with Sir Raymond and the rest: this time Tenebrae was different. He told me my future and claimed that, unless I did exactly what he told me, my shame would be announced to the world and its wife.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘He said I was beautiful,’ Louise said. She glanced from under lowered eyelids at Hetherington. ‘I should have told you this, but . . .’ She paused for a while. ‘He made me strip,’ Louise whispered. ‘He made me strip in front of him, then walk around the room.’

  Hetherington sprang to his feet, his face mottled with fury.

  ‘May he be damned in hell!’ he roared and crouched down beside Louise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Did he touch you?’

  Louise shook her head. ‘No: that’s all he made me do. He promised me silence and that he would conjure up the future and make all things well. I did it because I felt trapped. It was like a dream. Afterwards I would pinch myself.’ She shrugged prettily. ‘And that was all.’

  ‘Did you hate him?’ Kathryn asked. ‘Mistress Condosti, did you hate Tenebrae?’

  ‘Sometimes, yes. Sometimes myself.’ Her voice rose. ‘Sometimes life, Charles: everything had become a tangled mess.’

  ‘And Master Fronzac?’ Kathryn asked.

  Louise’s eyes held hers: they had lost their dove-like softness and showed the steel beneath the velvet.

  ‘He knew!’ she spat out.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Hetherington exclaimed.

  ‘Fronzac knew,’ Louise declared. ‘Oh, to you, Sir Raymond, he was the industrious clerk. Yet, did you ever stop and study him carefully? Those watery eyes, that slack mouth? I used to catch him watching me, sometimes sitting next to me, wetting those cracked lips whilst he pressed his leg against mine, only to apologise volubly.’

  ‘What did Fronzac say to you last night?’ Kathryn insisted.

  Louise laughed abruptly. ‘Do you know, when I heard Tenebrae had been murdered, I was pleased. Suddenly everything seemed calm: Tenebrae was dead, no more threats, no more walking round that terrible room. However, last night, when I came upstairs the nightmare returned. Fronzac pulled me aside. He asked after me. Was I not pleased that the magus had been killed? I just looked at him then he said: “One day, Mistress Condosti, if you know what is good for you, you must walk round my chamber as you did for Tenebrae.”

  ‘I was horrified. I fled.’ She laughed sharply. ‘Now Fronzac is killed. I wonder if I have some curse upon me. Should I really be betrothed to Master Neverett?’ She rose quickly to her feet, drying her eyes and pinching her cheeks to bring the colour back. ‘I have told you what I know, Mistress Swinbrooke, before God I have.’ She glared down at Sir Raymond. ‘Perhaps it’s best if others did the same.’

  And, without a second glance, she walked out of the chamber, slamming the door behind her.

  Hetherington sat ashen-faced.

  ‘The Church,’ he murmured hoarsely, ‘orders us not to dabbleor have anything to do with the likes of Tenebrae.’ He glanced up at Kathryn. ‘Believe me, now I see the wisdom of it.’

  ‘What did your ward mean?’ Kathryn asked. ‘That others should tell me the truth?’

  She paused at a knock on the door and Colum entered. Kathryn gestured at the seat beside her.

  ‘What is happening?’ Colum asked. ‘Mistress Condosti came running down and straight out into the garden.’

  ‘I’m learning some truths,’ Kathryn replied. ‘And Sir Raymond, I think, will tell us some more, though not for the moment. Sir Raymond, may we use this chamber?’

  The goldsmith nodded. ‘I need some wine,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I’ll be in the taproom with the rest.’ He walked out of the chamber like a beaten man.

  Kathryn and Colum followed him. Foliot and Luberon were waiting in the gallery outside, the little clerk’s eyes sharp with curiosity, Foliot more calm. Kathryn assured them all was well, but asked them to stay with the pilgrims, explaining how she and Colum wished to interrogate each one individually.

  ‘I should be present,’ Foliot declared.

  ‘No,’ Colum retorted. ‘You have made it obvious that the responsibility for this matter is mine. I must insist that you leave matters be, at least for a while.’

  Foliot pulled a face and followed Luberon down the stairs. Colum turned to Kathryn. ‘What is the matter?’

  ‘Master Fronzac had the grimoire,’ Kathryn replied. ‘He was murdered because of its secrets.’

  Chapter 7

  Back inside the chamber, Kathryn gave Colum a pithy descrip
tion of what had happened. He stood by the window, listening to her carefully.

  ‘So,’ he concluded. ‘Master Tenebrae’s intended bride, perhaps, does not concern us, but the whereabouts of the grimoire does.’ He shook his head. ‘Yet it doesn’t make sense. How could Fronzac murder Tenebrae and take the Book of Shadows? Bogbean assured us the clerk left the house that day like everyone else. And, after his departure, the magus was visited by others, not to mention his own servant Morel. So,’ Colum slumped down on a chair, ‘where do we go from here?’

  Kathryn wove her fingers together and stared at the expensive cloth hangings round the bed. Thomasina would like those, she thought, thick and heavy: difficult to clean but sturdy enough against the passage of time.

  ‘Kathryn?’ Colum insisted.

  She smiled apologetically. ‘What we have done, oh dark-browed Irishman, is at least breach the wall these goldsmiths have built round themselves. Condosti had a great deal to hide and implied her companions also did. Perhaps it’s best if we saw them one at a time: we should start with Master Brissot.’

  Colum went down to the taproom and returned with the rotund little physician, who came in brushing his neat moustache, blinking nervously as Kathryn invited him to sit.

  ‘Master Brissot,’ Kathryn began smilingly. ‘How much did Tenebrae pay you?’

  The physician nearly fell off his stool. ‘What are you saying?’ he stuttered. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘Shut up! You know full well what I mean. You are a London physician, hired specially by the goldsmith’s guild for the care of their fraternity. You scurry around from house to house, you attend their functions and your sharp little eyes miss nothing. You were Tenebrae’s spy and told him about Condosti’s condition. Didn’t you ever suspect what such a hideous creature might do with such information?’

  Brissot stared back.

  ‘I’m giving you the opportunity,’ Kathryn said conversationally, ‘to tell me the truth. If you lie, or we later discover you have lied, Master Murtagh here has powerful friends at court. He will make it his business to proclaim to the city what you are and what you do.’ Kathryn remembered Condosti’s fear and hurt, and pulled her chair closer. ‘And how would you prosper then, Master Brissot? I am a physician; we hold a secret trust to keep our mouths shut about what we know.’

  Surprisingly, Brissot began to cry, the tears rolling down his red cheeks, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Kathryn stared in amazement and steeled herself against the sight of this pompous, little man blubbering like a child. At last he stopped, swallowed noisily and lifted his face. Kathryn flinched at the hatred blazing in his eyes.

  ‘Do you think I liked it?’ he asked slowly. ‘I, Charles Brissot, a student of the Sorbonne, Padua and Marseilles, in the hands of a man like Tenebrae?’ He shook his head. ‘I deserve everything you have said but, Mistress Kathryn,’ he leaned forward and tapped the side of his head, ‘up here the demons and ghosts dwell, in the dirty recesses of our minds. Don’t you have any? Well, I do.’ He dried his cheeks with the back of his hand. ‘You had to know Tenebrae to understand his wickedness. He was subtle and wily. Like some fat spider, he would invite you into his web, and once you were caught, he held you fast.’

  ‘And how did he trap you?’ Colum asked.

  Brissot turned to him. ‘You put me there,’ he retorted, ‘or men like you. Yes, I am physician to the goldsmiths of London but, in the summer of 1471, I was hired as a physician for King Henry VI when he was imprisoned in the Tower of London.’ Brissot glimpsed the surprise on Colum’s face. ‘Yes, yes, the saintly Henry VI of the House of Lancaster: a man more devoted to his prayers than the crown. You know the story? After the Yorkist victories at Barnet and Tewkesbury, Henry VI, a prisoner in the Tower, mysteriously died there.’ He stared at a point above their heads. ‘He didn’t die. The poor, saintly man was murdered, his head being dashed against the wall, his emaciated body pierced with daggers.’ Brissot paused and drew in his breath. ‘I had to tend to him, dress the corpse, before it was moved downriver to Chertsey for burial. So, what does it look like to you, Irishman? To be the physician who attended his corpse, who knows the truth but has to keep his mouth firmly shut.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Colum whispered. ‘The rumours abound about how Henry died. He perished the same night the King and his brothers held a banquet at the Tower. The official proclamation says he died of natural causes.’

  ‘Tenebrae taunted me with that,’ Brissot broke in. He glared at Kathryn. ‘For God’s sake, Mistress!’ He laughed abruptly. ‘Here I am, walking the streets of Canterbury, paying homage to Becket, an archbishop killed by a king. Yet look at me: a physician who knows a saintly king was murdered. Tenebrae offered to voice that to the world.’ He shrugged. ‘So I had to tell him everything I knew. All the tittle-tattle of the Guild; who said what to whom: the scurrilous petty scandals that plague all our lives.’ He spread his hands. ‘Yes, I told him about Louise Condosti and other matters.’

  ‘Then tell us about these matters,’ Kathryn replied. She held her hand up. ‘I give you my word. We only want to trap Tenebrae’s killer.’

  Brissot smiled. ‘Aye, I’ll tell you: the same I told that bastard of a magus. How Hetherington was furious at Tenebrae’s knowledge about Condosti. How that same goldsmith lent purses of silver to the Lancastrian faction. How Thomas Greene likes young boys, with angelic faces and full, white buttocks.’

  ‘And Neverett?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘Oh, he’s fairly guiltless. A young man not yet steeped in sin.’

  ‘And what about Dauncey?’ Colum asked.

  ‘Why not ask her yourself,’ Brissot replied. ‘Talk to the good widow. Ask about her constant hunt for a husband.’

  ‘She is comely enough,’ Kathryn tactfully intervened. ‘And she is very wealthy.’

  ‘Aye,’ Brissot replied. ‘Her last husband owned ships. In reality he was nothing more than a common pirate. Most of his wealth was ill-gotten.’

  ‘But she is still wealthy?’

  Brissot got to his feet. ‘I have told you enough.’ He leaned down, his face only a few inches away from Kathryn’s. ‘I didn’t kill the magus,’ he rasped, ‘but I wish to God I had!’ And spinning on his heel, he walked out of the chamber.

  ‘Well, well, well!’ Colum stretched. ‘Nothing is what it appears to be and, in this case, all that glitters is not gold.’

  Kathryn rose and slipped behind him, pulling gently on his hair.

  ‘No time for Chaucer now, Colum,’ she murmured. ‘There is no need to speculate. I wager every one of them had good cause to hate and kill Tenebrae.’

  ‘Where’s the grimoire?’ Colum asked.

  ‘We’ll deal with that in a minute,’ Kathryn said. ‘First, we must have words with the good Widow Dauncey.’

  Colum went down to the taproom and returned with Dionysia, one hand resting gracefully on his arm, the other clutching her cane.

  Kathryn studied the widow’s thin, lined face carefully. Her eyes were bright enough, but her skin had a sallow, unhealthy complexion: as she sat down in the chair, Kathryn saw how she gripped her stomach as if in pain before daintily arranging the folds of her dark blue gown, then the coif round her greying hair. She sat demurely with her hands in her lap, her bright eyes watchful.

  ‘Mistress Swinbrooke,’ she began softly, ‘you are to be congratulated. Never did a woman upset so many people in so short a time.’

  ‘It was not my intention,’ Kathryn retorted. ‘But, as Master Brissot says, we have, in our souls, dark recesses where we do not want others to pry. And yet?’ Kathryn shrugged. ‘A man like Tenebrae had the gift for penetrating such shadows.’

  ‘He was very good,’ Dauncey replied. ‘Sharp and mysterious. A shrewd mind and a quick eye. He knew the importance of ritual and appearances. He persuaded us to think he had powers, perhaps he did not.’

  ‘How long have you been a widow?’ Kathryn asked.

  Dauncey smiled, trying to hide her yellowing, cra
cked teeth.

  ‘Four years. My husband died at sea and, before you ask, Mistress Swinbrooke, he was my third husband.’

  ‘And do you have children?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Dauncey’s laugh was forced, her fingers gripped the side of her stomach.

  ‘You are in pain, Mistress Dauncey?’

  ‘Why?’ the widow snapped. ‘What did fat, little Brissot tell you?’

  ‘He told us nothing we did not know: that Tenebrae was a proficient blackmailer. So, what power did he have over you?’

  Dauncey stared bleakly. ‘I don’t . . .’ she stammered. ‘I can’t . . .’

  ‘You are ill with some sickness,’ Kathryn interrupted.

  She studied the woman carefully: beneath the thick powder and rouge, Kathryn glimpsed small sores at the corner of the widow’s mouth. Dauncey was about to shake her head then she flailed her hands in a pathetic gesture and glanced away, blinking furiously to hide her tears.

  ‘I envy Mistress Condosti,’ she whispered. ‘Her beautiful face and body, warm and ripe like an apple to be plucked. I wish, Mistress Swinbrooke, that I could be plucked.’ She stared down at a costly ring on her index finger. ‘People look at me and think, “Ah, there goes Widow Dauncey, well respected, wealthy and a pillar of the Church”. Yet I toss in my bed at night like a cork in a stream!’

  ‘But you have suitors?’ Colum asked.

  Dauncey laughed nervously. ‘Oh, yes, and how the tongues clack: old Widow Dauncey pursuing some young men. I would like to marry.’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’

  ‘Because, Mistress Swinbrooke,’ Dauncey leaned forward, her face mottled with anger, ‘I have a disease. The undying legacy of my last husband.’ She sat back. ‘He could sleep with everything and probably did, be it a dog or some raddled whore in one of the many ports he visited.’ She pointed to the sores on her mouth. ‘It grows within me. Who will marry me, Mistress Swinbrooke, a rotting, old woman? That’s what Tenebrae knew.’

  ‘Did Brissot tell him?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘No.’ Dauncey shook her head. ‘I have my own physician though much good it will do me now.’ The tears welled in her eyes.