Samson seemed unconcerned. ‘Memories are short,’ he said coming round to my side of the desk. ‘These things come and go with fashion. I have told Egbert and Jeremiah that they will not have my support if they appeal to the Pope and the Holy Father has enough problems of his own at the moment without our parochial squabbles. It will all blow over, you’ll see. And now that Brother Alric is dead...’
‘What?’ I interjected. ‘Alric dead?’
‘Yes,’ said Samson. ‘Haven’t you heard? His body was fished out of the Lark this morning. A tragic accident.’ He frowned shaking his head.
‘Oh no,’ I said, sincerely shocked by the news, and lowered my head in a moment of silent prayer.
Samson drew himself up haughtily. ‘By all means pray if you think it will help him where he’s going.’
‘Alric was a victim too,’ I said.
‘I doubt if Matthew’s mother would agree with you. I have made provision for that woman, incidentally, even though it pained my hand to authorize it. She will be allowed to keep the fuller’s cottage together with a pension - on condition that she does not visit her son’s grave in the abbey grounds. No doubt in the fullness of time his body can be moved to a churchyard closer to her home – once things have quietened down. Don’t take it so personally, Walter,’ he said placing an arm round my shoulders. ‘You have your reputation restored and you can carry on doing what you do best - healing the sick and comforting the poor.’
He gently coaxed me towards the door.
‘By the way,’ he said in a confidential tone. ‘Speaking of healing the sick, I’ve been meaning to ask your advice on another, personal matter. This whole unfortunate business has been playing havoc with my digestive system – something not dissimilar to the King’s as a matter of fact,’ he laughed nervously and lowered his voice. ‘It’s a little embarrassing.’
‘You are constipated, father?’
He grimaced. ‘It’s a little more advanced than that,’ he said rubbing the back of his thigh. ‘Some, erm, protuberances. I was hoping you could suggest an infusion I could take? Something perhaps a little less drastic in its effect than the opiate you gave the King.’
I thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘Rhubarb, liquorice and goose fat, father.’
‘Really? How interesting. I’ll try it.’
He frowned thoughtfully as I opened the door and stepped out into the now crowded antechamber. ‘Erm - just one thing. The rhubarb and the liquorice I understand. But the goose fat - how should one take it?’
I mumbled my answer as I threaded my way through the petitioners.
‘Hmm?’ said Samson cupping his ear. ‘What’s that? Put it where did you say?’
I turned and replied in a clear voice for all to hear: ‘Up your arsehole, my lord abbot. Put it up your arse-hole.’
Chapter 24
SANCTUARY
By the time I left Samson’s office it was coming up to noon and the cloud that had been hanging over us all day, both literal and metaphorical, seemed to have lifted and a sort of calm had descended on our little town of Edmundsbury. At this distance of forty years it is difficult to remember exactly what my mood was then but I sense I had come to something of a hiatus. I didn’t know that there was a turn or two more to come before the top had finally spun out of this tale.
I was still feeling grubby from my encounter with the dread de Saye in Thetford Forest so I went into the abbey church early before sext stopping at the cloister lavatorium on my way to sluice myself down. I suppose I could have bathed but two baths in the space of a single week seemed to me excessive.
There were even more people in the church than usual, no doubt anxious to get out of the rain as much as for spiritual renewal, but the monks’ choir is the one area of the church that is always closed to the public offering an island of peace as the river of pilgrims flows around it to and from the shrine. My intention was to do as our Lord taught us and to pray for my enemies as well as my friends: For Matthew, for his mother, for Alric and even - God help me - for Geoffrey de Saye. But mostly I wanted to pray for the souls of Isaac Moy and his wife Rachel in the hope that when they come face to face with the Lord Jesus Christ, as surely we all must in the end, He will forgive them their error and not cast them aside with all the other unbelievers. As for their three children, Jessica, Josette and Jacob, I saved a special prayer for them fervently hoping that they were alive and safe - and a very long way from here. However, I wasn’t to get very far in any of this as I saw that Jocelin was already sitting in the choir stalls ahead of me. He saw me first and nodded as I entered through the screen. There was no help for it but to join him.
Poor Jocelin. Samson really did treat him like one of his docile mules at times although in part he brought it on himself so willing was he to do Samson’s every bidding and be grateful for the least sign of affection. After the briefest of prayers I lifted myself up onto the seat feeling I had to be the first to speak.
‘Brother, I’d like to apologise for what happened back there. I did not know Samson was going to do that. I should have insisted that you should stay – after all, you did as much as I to uncover the truth about Matthew’s murder.’
But Jocelin wasn’t in the least offended. ‘Oh no, brother. If F-father Abbot thinks there is s-something I should not hear then I must respect his d-decision. He is G-god’s appointed after all, a v-very great and wise m-man.’ Then he chuckled. ‘You should have seen the way he stood up to Earl Geoffrey. He was m-m-m-magnificent.’
I sighed. I should have guessed that would be Jocelin’s reaction. To him Samson could do no wrong. It was hero-worship bordering on love - it was love. Even so, I thought he deserved some kind of explanation even if I could not disclose the important ‘matters of state’ that Samson had warned me to keep under my cowl. I kept my voice low so as not to be overheard as I rehearsed the litany of Alric’s and de Saye’s crimes. When I came to describe Alric’s peccadilloes, however, I did not feel the abbey church was quite the place to be too explicit so I couched my explanation in inference and metaphor. Jocelin listened to it all in stoical silence though I’m not sure how much he understood. When I’d finished he still seemed puzzled. Clearly some more elucidation was required.
‘Go back to the day of the King’s illness,’ I whispered. ‘Remember I told you the guard who was sent to find the King’s so-called ‘poisoner’ returned with Alric who he referred to as a ‘pervert’. It struck me at the time as an odd thing to call a poisoner but I just assumed that all he meant was that any attempt on the King’s life was to be regarded as a ‘perversion’. It was only later that I realised he meant something rather more specific. There never was a poisoner, but the guard was obliged to provide one and he chose Alric probably on the principle of his being hung as much for a sheep as for a lamb.’
‘Sheep as a lamb?’ said Jocelin, frowning.
I pursed my lips. ‘The guard already knew, you see? About Alric and his…weakness. It was common knowledge among the lower orders, apparently. He evidently thought Alric deserved a thrashing and didn’t much mind what it was for.’
Jocelin was shaking his head disapprovingly. ‘How long was it going on for – Alric’s weakness? Do you think Matthew’s poor mother was aware of it?’
‘Aware of it?’ I snorted contemptuously. ‘She instigated it. All that nonsense about Matthew being a postulant. She was never going to allow her breadwinner son to become an impoverished priest in some far-off parish. No no. It was a ruse so that Matthew could have easy access to the abbey without attracting comment. And she made sure Alric paid for the privilege.’ I looked at him. ‘You do know what I’m talking about don’t you, brother?’
Jocelin nodded slowly. ‘I think so. B-but I still f-find it hard to believe a mother would prostitute her own s-son in that unnatural way.’
I shrugged my shoulders non-committally. ‘I don’t think the actual sin amounted to very much. Those street boys seemed to treat it all as a bit of joke. And I supp
ose it’s debatable whose sin was the greater - the mother’s for putting temptation in his way, or Alric’s for succumbing to it.’ I leaned my elbows on the bench in front of me. ‘Anyway, the crucial point is that somehow Geoffrey de Saye got to learn about it – probably from that guard - and that’s when it became serious because he saw a way to twist it to his own purpose.’
‘W-which was what – precisely?’
‘To unburden himself of Isaac’s debt, of course.’
Jocelin nodded. Then he frowned. Then he shook his head. ‘I-I’m still not clear how the two f-facts are linked: De Saye’s debt to Isaac and Alric’s sin?’
I could see this was going to be more difficult than I thought. I marshalled my thoughts again and took another deep breath.
‘Look at the personalities involved. My lord de Saye, I think we would agree, is a man for whom the normal mores count for little – yes?’
‘Indeed,’ nodded Jocelin vehemently.
‘Well, such a man would hardly concern himself with the morals of a mere monk, much less those of his catamite. He didn’t care what they got up to. His only interest in Matthew and Alric’s relationship was the opportunity it offered to put pressure on Isaac.’
‘But how exactly?’
I opened my palm to explain. ‘Matthew already knew Jacob through his dealings with the Moy household. De Saye simply got Matthew to introduce Jacob to Alric...’
‘…e-expecting Alric to take his usual interest in the boy…’ nodded Jocelin,
‘…de Saye would then threaten to expose the relationship…’ I continued,
‘…unless Isaac agreed to release him from the debt,’ completed Jocelin nodding furiously. ‘Yes, of course. I see n-now.’
I nodded my agreement. ‘At the very least the scandal would have brought shame to the Moy family - and probably been harmful to Isaac’s business affairs, too. Except it didn’t work out like that. Alric wasn’t interested in Jacob – apparently he wasn’t “the right type”.’ I nodded with satisfaction. ‘Jacob wasn’t like any of Alric’s usual boys. I doubt he even knew what he was getting into.’
‘I see,’ said Jocelin. ‘B-but that being the case, and de Saye’s plan having failed, why did it not end there? Why did not Isaac s-simply call de Saye’s bluff? After all, Jacob had done nothing wrong - ergo, there was no scandal to expose.’
‘Because by then it was already too late. Matthew was dead and the body lay in Isaac’s garden. I think Isaac realised then that de Saye would stop at nothing, even murder, to get his way. That, I think, is what prompted him to trust me, a complete stranger, with his ‘testament’ which was the only proof of de Saye’s debt. The desperate act of a desperate man.’
‘Looking at the personalities involved,’ smiled Jocelin kindly, ‘I think Isaac recognised the kind of m-man you are and trusted you. That’s w-why he gave the testament and the casket to you for safe-keeping knowing you would do the r-right thing in the event of his d-death.’
I shook my head. ‘No, he didn’t. Not really. And that is my burden I have to carry. Isaac had been gambling that I would open the document and once I knew its contents would take them to the Abbot who alone had the authority to bring de Saye to book. I think that’s what he was hoping right up to the moment his hand was plunged into the boiling cauldron and why he refused to say anything, that I might be able to save him. And maybe I could have done except like the fool I am I didn’t read it. And then to pile folly upon folly I lost it.’
‘You j-judge yourself too harshly, my friend,’ said Jocelin. ‘No-one tried harder than you to clear Isaac’s name.’ He thought for a long minute. ‘Forgive me, but still none of this explains why Matthew was m-murdered.’
‘Hm? Oh that was a mistake.’
Jocelin looked horrified. ‘A what?’
I glanced about me as curious eyes looked over. ‘The sin of anger, brother,’ I said lowering my voice. ‘Matthew failed to give de Saye what he wanted. De Saye lost his temper and lashed out at the boy accidentally killing him. It was entirely unintentional.’
‘And that’s it?’ said Jocelin, appalled. ‘The only reason p-poor Matthew had to die was because he was in the way?’
I shrugged. ‘The death of a miller’s boy would have meant no more to de Saye than crushing a beetle beneath his boot. But from that single act everything else followed: The body being dumped in Isaac’s garden; the Knieler women with their flimflammery nonsense – paid for by de Saye, of course; the martyrdom myth; Isaac’s trial and his eventual suicide. It all played to ready prejudices.’ Some of which, I might have added, Jocelin himself harboured. But there was no purpose in rubbing salt into what was clearly a painful wound. There were tears in his eyes when he spoke again:
‘Then why did Matthew’s mother not speak when she had the chance?’ he objected fiercely. ‘I saw her when the body was discovered in Isaac’s garden. She was in g-genuine distress.’
‘I’m sure she was – then. Remember, at that stage she still thought it was Isaac who had killed her son.’
‘But when she found out the truth of it she could have s-saved Isaac,’ said Jocelin bitterly. ‘Instead she allowed an innocent man to suffer and die.’ His eyes filled with tears again. ‘Oh, is there no-one in this whole sordid affair possessed of a Christian c-conscience?’
Heads again turned from among the passing pilgrims to look at us and I lowered my voice further.
‘Would it have put de Saye on trial if she had? It hasn’t now. And she is not entirely innocent in this business. She could have ended up in the dock alongside de Saye. Whatever else that woman may be she’s no fool. And she still has her other five children to think about. Putting de Saye on trial would not fill their bellies. She made a cold hard calculation. She wanted de Saye to pay all right but in a currency less tenuous than justice – hard coin.’
I could hear the bell announcing sext and the choir was beginning to fill up with our fellow monks getting ready to sing the office.
‘O-one thing still puzzles me,’ said Jocelin hurriedly. ‘Why did de Saye come after you in the f-forest? He must have thought he was in the clear. Isaac’s suicide was tantamount to a confession to the murder and the bond of debt he owed Isaac was lost in the flames – or s-so he believed. Why risk all by attacking you?’
‘Because it was me Alric confessed to, that’s why. When de Saye learned that he must have thought the vengeance of God was upon him. After all, not only was his secret no longer a secret but the author of his impending nemesis was the one person he hated most in all the world - me. And with all that had passed between us he knew I would not remain silent. So when he saw me trundling out of town on an open wagon with only a couple of yokels as companions he couldn’t resist the temptation to follow and do what he had been itching to do since he first saw me in the King’s banquet.’ I ran my finger graphically across my own throat.
‘Th-then it was lucky you had your guardian angel to protect you,’ Jocelin said under his breath. ‘P-presumably the same mysterious presence you kept seeing around the town. Who was that, I wonder?’
On that subject, too, I had an idea and might have told him except at that moment we were interrupted by a commotion near the choir altar. All the while Jocelin and I had been talking one of the sub-sacristans had been laying out the altar cloth ready for the high mass following sext. I’d been vaguely aware of him genuflecting and fussing about with candles and tapers, but had been concentrating too hard on explaining matters to Jocelin to pay him much attention. Now he abruptly disappeared behind the altar ducking down behind it only to bob up again a moment later looking very angry and holding between his finger and thumb the ear of a small boy. Fortunately the ear was still attached to the boy who was dirty and dishevelled as were two little girls who also suddenly popped up beside him and were complaining very noisily. It took me but a moment to recognise who they were under their grubby faces and as soon as I did I was on my feet and rushing towards them. From the state of them Jacob, J
osette and Jessica looked as though they had been hiding there for a week, which indeed they probably had. But mere commotion was about to degenerate into out and out pandemonium:
‘Sanctuary! Sanctuary!’
We all looked round in astonishment to see the squat but sturdy figure of Matilde barrelling down the central aisle of the nave towards us with a face of thunder, scattering pilgrims like alehouse pins in her wake and waving her fists wildly in the air.
‘Sanctuary!’ she yelled again, her voice echoing like a banshee’s in the cavernous church. ‘I claim sanctuary en nom de Jésus-Christ!’ her bulbous frame wobbling perilously as she careered down the aisle towards sub-sacristan Gerard and the children.
Startled as he was, Gerard was not about to relinquish his prize so easily, not at any rate until Matilde had arrived and landed him such a hefty wallop that it sent him flying backwards against the chancel screen with a teeth-splintering crunch. She then cradled the three children’s heads in her arms and backed against the screen glaring fiercely about her and making an odd growling noise in her throat like a cornered animal.
‘Quickly,’ I whispered to Jocelin. ‘The casket.’
‘W-What?’ he stammered.
‘The casket,’ I repeated. ‘From your office. Fetch it now. Run!’
Turning, he picked up his robe and rushed down the aisle towards the west door of the church nearly knocking over a family of pilgrims who had just come in.
Matilde was still looking like a mother lioness protecting her cubs and whining maniacally as I gingerly approached hands held out to show I meant no harm.
‘It’s all right, Matilde. It’s me, Brother Walter. I’m not going to touch them, I promise. You have been hiding them, yes? Here behind the alter - erm, vous avez été les cacher ici?’ I spluttered. ‘Derrière l'autel, oui?’
‘Oui,’ she whimpered defensively and bared her teeth at me.
As I later discovered, she had indeed been hiding the children and feeding them from Thibaut’s bounty ever since the day of their father’s suicide. That was where she had been going the day I met her on the street, not to the church to pray as I had thought but to meet the children and to hide them. But they had been discovered too soon. Samson had not yet had time to rescind Jacob’s outlaw status. There was still a hue and cry for him and he could be killed at any moment with impunity.
Unholy Innocence Page 27
