The Devil's Priest

by Kate Ellis

  The parlour door opened and in walked Griselda, who smiled widely when she saw Jane but whose smile faded as she spotted Katheryn. She bobbed a curtsey.

  "Begging your pardon, my lady. I thought to speak with Jane. It was nothing important. I'm sorry, my lady."

  Katheryn stood up. "No, you must stay Griselda. I was about to see if Master Valentine needed help. Sit down. I'm sure Jane will be eager to hear your news."

  Katheryn thought that half an hour's escape from Mistress Marjory's domination would do Griselda the world of good. And who knows what gossip Jane might pick up as a result. She left them alone together.

  Griselda spoke first. "Mistress Marjory has one of her headaches. She sent me for some of her usual physic. How are things with you?"

  "Very well. The household here is, er...easier than Mistress Moore's."

  "And Will? Is he still attentive?"

  Jane blushed. "Indeed he is. And my lady is kind enough to leave us together."

  "You are so lucky, Jane. If I want to see my young man I have to sneak out like a thief."

  "Your sailor? How is he?"

  "In Ireland again. He sailed this morning on the first tide. But he will be back by and by." Griselda leaned forward. Her face suddenly looked troubled. "I went to see if he was on the strand last night."

  "And was he?"

  "No. But I saw something; something that frightened me."

  "What do you mean?”

  "There’s a mill at the back of the Old Hall. It belongs to the Moores but they have built a new one near Castle Street: it is more central there for the townsfolk to take their grain and the Moores were ever ones to make a greater profit." Jane nodded; she was beginning to understand all about the preoccupations of the Moore family. Griselda continued. "The old mill’s deserted now...falling to ruin. It is not a place to be after dark."

  Jane was beginning to find the tale interesting. "Go on...what happened?"

  "I looked up at the mill as I passed and in one of the windows I saw a face. It was horrible...like something from the grave."

  Jane hurriedly crossed herself, enjoying being frightened in the safety of Master Valentine's back parlour. "What did it look like?"

  "Like a corpse. White with staring eyes." Griselda's eyes sparkled. Jane suspected some use of poetic embellishment.

  Jane leaned forward further, open mouthed. "Who was it, Griselda? Who was it?"

  Griselda opened her eyes dramatically. “I reckon it was Old Nick himself. I reckon it was the devil.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The great bell tolled across the river Mersey, tolling for Agnes. The little party of mourners filed into the church of Our Lady and St. Nicholas for the requiem mass. Father James officiated with solemn dignity but instead of dismissing the congregation with a blessing, he stood by the side of Agnes's coffin and looked at the mourners, scanning their faces.

  "My friends," he began. "We are here to pray for the soul of our sister here. One that was a sister...a nun of the Abbey of Godstow. How then does she come to be lying violated and dead here before us?"

  Katheryn shifted uneasily and hoped that Father James would show some restraint, some discretion. But the passionate tone of his voice made her suspect that she hoped in vain.

  "You will all know of the events that have overtaken this land. How our King has rejected Christ's words that the descendants of St. Peter should rule over the church and usurped that authority for himself."

  Katheryn looked down, praying that no King's agent was present to report the priest's words back to the authorities. Such talk was dangerous...such talk was treason. And treason resulted in a hideous death. Valentine caught her eye: his thoughts clearly matched her own. They willed Father James to stop but the priest carried on.

  "And hunger for power and worldly wealth has made our sovereign lord King Henry look with avaricious eyes upon the property of our Holy Mother Church...on the places where God's faithful servants have spent their lives in prayer and devotion. This is why our dear martyred sister lies dead before us today. The King seized the wealth of her hallowed house and had no thought for the poor creatures thrown out to fend for themselves in a wicked world."

  Katheryn and Valentine exchanged glances again. Although there was some truth in what Father James said, there were many like themselves, furnished with good pensions and a new way of life, who could not count themselves amongst the King's unfortunate victims. But whether or not the priest's words were accurate, they were better left unsaid.

  "Sister Agnes was a martyr...a symbol of the suffering caused by the wickedness of those who rule over us. The devil stalks this land." Father James was becoming more carried away with his words. His eyes glowed with conviction. "And that devil's name is Henry..."

  "Enough, Father." Katheryn could stand it no longer. If this speech carried on to its natural conclusion they would all be in danger. Father James looked at her surprised, the spell of his eloquence broken. "Let us all pray for poor Agnes's soul and pray that the one responsible for her untimely death will be brought to justice."

  Father James, realising that he had perhaps gone too far, looked at Katheryn with understanding. He made the sign of the cross and began the prayers for the dead. The crisis was over. Katheryn felt Valentine's hand on hers. "Well said," he whispered.

  Father James confined himself to the standard litany from then on, much to Katheryn's relief. She had no wish to see the priest suffer the death of a traitor; to be half hanged then cut down and disembowelled, his entrails burned before his eyes.

  When they reached the graveside she looked around. A few of the Moore's servants, including Griselda, were present, shifting uneasily from foot to foot and wrapping their cloaks around them against the cold breeze that blew from the river. The only other mourners were Bartholomew, Jane, Will, herself and Valentine. There was nobody she had not seen before: nobody, she hoped, who would repeat Father James's indiscreet words to the authorities.

  Soon it was over. Agnes was in the ground. Katheryn stood watching as the gravedigger covered her coffin with sandy earth. Valentine took her hand and she was glad of his comforting presence. As she contemplated the pathetic grave, she resolved to discover the truth, whatever dangers that discovery might bring. She would stay in Liverpool until she discovered who had killed Agnes.

  *

  When they returned to the shop, Valentine poured ale for Katheryn and himself and harboured the uncharitable wish that the townsfolk of Liverpool would suddenly be struck down with a mild and unthreatening malady which would distract him from the sad events of that afternoon. But nobody came.

  Katheryn broke the silence. "Father James is a danger to himself. He must learn discretion...as we all have had to."

  Valentine nodded. "I had not thought him so foolish. He has never spoken thus to me...never."

  "We must hope that he was merely carried away with the sadness of the occasion and that he will learn to conceal his thoughts in future."

  "There was nobody there, surely, who would report his words."

  "You can never be sure, Valentine. Any of those servants of Mistress Moore might tell tales. There are many about who would gain advancement by betraying their fellow citizens."

  Katheryn was right. An act of betrayal could lead to preferment, to a new and better position: and ultimately to wealth and power. He had seen it happen. So had Katheryn.

  It was then that Valentine's wish for a distraction was granted. A servant from Crosse Hall came, breathless, into the shop to ask Master Valentine to come right away as the young master had a swelling of the finger. Valentine packed up his ointments and left. Jane came in and, seeing her mistress alone and staring into the fire, turned and was about to leave her to her thoughts. But Katheryn called her back.

  "You have not told me what news Griselda had to bring. Come and sit down. Let us try and forget our sadness for a while. Entertain me with the latest gossip."

  Jane needed no encouragement. She sat down, eyes a
glow. "Griselda said the strangest thing, my lady."

  "What? What did she say?

  Jane looked down, half grinning. "She said she saw someone in the mill behind the Old Hall."

  Katheryn looked disappointed. She had expected something more exciting. “Who was it? Who did she see?”

  "She reckoned she’d seen Satan himself, not that I believe her,” Jane stated solemnly. She had not taken Griselda's half-baked revelations seriously. It was just the sort of story Griselda would make up to make herself seem important.

  Katheryn noted that Griselda was the second person to claim to have seen Satan in the flesh. Agnes had told a similar tale when she had been attacked in the chapel of St. Mary del Quay. Although Katheryn was in no doubt that the devil was constantly about his work, she did not think he was in the habit of making himself quite so visible.

  "And did Griselda seem frightened by what she saw?"

  Jane thought for a moment. "Yes. She said she would never go past the old mill alone again, not even to meet her sweetheart on the strand. She would ask him to meet her by the gate, even if it risked being discovered by Mistress Moore."

  Whatever Griselda saw, Katheryn thought, must have been more fearful than Mistress Marjory's tongue. She sat back and looked at Jane. "Are you feeling courageous, Jane?"

  "Me, my lady?"

  "And Will, of course. I think we should take a look at this disused mill to see if there is any sense to be made out of Griselda's story."

  Jane looked wary. She had never been of an adventurous nature. But if Will was going with them, the enterprise might not be without its compensations.

  *

  Marjory Moore's head felt a little better. Master Valentine's potions always worked swiftly. She lay on her bed, eyes shut against the light, wondering what her household was up to. Those servants couldn't be trusted: if she did not watch them every minute of the day who knows what they might get up to and what duties would be left neglected. Without her ever watchful presence the idle, ungrateful creatures would slacken off their efforts and the house and lands would sink to decay and ruin.

  She opened her eyes. The pain was virtually gone. Tentatively, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around. The rushes on the floor needed changing. That girl, Griselda, was becoming a slattern, too busy dreaming of that Irish sailor. Marjory resolved to confront her about her ever lengthening absences next time the girl deigned to show her face.

  Marjory rose from her bed, went to the window and looked out over the herb garden to ensure that none of the servants were idling their time away out of doors. Beyond the garden she could see the old mill. Her son, Francis, had said that if it was not to be used again as a mill, perhaps he could find another use for it...or have it pulled down. His own mother should not be expected to view an unsightly ruin from her chamber window; a scar on the otherwise uninterrupted view across the townfield to the river estuary. But she had kept silent. Francis would forget about the old mill; he was a very busy man.

  A movement caught her eye. Someone was at the entrance to the mill. Three people intruding where they had no right to be. She looked more intently, realising that one of the figures was familiar. Surely it could not be that woman: surely it would not be appropriate for one of her rank to trespass in derelict buildings.

  Marjory went to her chamber door and shouted. But no servant came. She stepped into her shoes and bustled down the stairs and out of the back door into the herb garden, startled servants curtseying as she swept past.

  "Lady Katheryn," she called as she opened the wooden gate that led onto the open land. "May I enquire what you are doing?" She made a imperceptible curtsey for appearances sake and tried to hide her anger.

  Katheryn smiled sweetly, sensing trouble. "I have heard reports of an intruder in the old mill, Mistress Moore. I thought to investigate but did not wish to disturb you. I apologise if..."

  "You do realise, my lady, that you are on Moore land?"

  "If I trespass, Mistress, it is with the best of intentions. I have vowed to discover the truth of Agnes's death. I am sure as her kinswoman, you would add your prayer to mine that I may be successful in bringing her killer to justice."

  "It was but an accident, madam. I have put the matter from my mind and do not wish to be reminded of it. It would oblige me if you would leave my land at once."

  Katheryn smiled sweetly once more. "All I request, Mistress, is that my servants and I take a look inside the mill. Surely that would do no harm and satisfy us that nothing untoward has taken place on your land. Think of the danger of lurking thieves and footpads on your own doorstep: think of the threat to your property."

  Katheryn could see Marjory weighing the arguments against her personal prejudices.

  "Perhaps a quick search, just to satisfy us that no villains lurk there unseen."

  Katheryn nodded to Will who cautiously pushed open the battered wooden door, half falling off its hinges. Marjory watched them intently.

  The interior of the mill was unthreatening in the daylight that streamed in through the unglazed windows. The floor was covered in dusty chaff and straw: machinery rotted on the ground, piled up by the ramshackle ladder that led to the upper storeys. There was nothing here on the ground floor to give rise to suspicion. Katheryn looked at the ladder. There was no way she could investigate the upper floors herself.

  "If I wore breeches, Will, I should go up myself but..."

  Will, not wishing to appear a coward before Jane and his mistress, put a testing foot on the ladder. The first rung, at least, was firm and safe. Surprisingly, so were the rest. He went up slowly, testing each one.

  "Can you see anything, Will? Are you all right?" Katheryn called up after a minute’s silence.

  "Yes, my lady," came the muffled reply. "I can see nothing amiss."

  Marjory, who had been shifting from foot to foot impatiently, could contain herself no longer. "It is quite plain that there is no one here. I suggest we leave this place." She shouted up to Will. "Come down at once, man. There is little purpose in tarrying here longer than we need to. It grows cold. Come down."

  Katheryn did not like to countermand Mistress Moore on her own property. She just hoped that Will had conducted a thorough search, though she feared he would not have had time. He came down the ladder as carefully as he had climbed it.

  Will reached the ground, grinning at Jane. "I reckon the ladder's been mended, my lady. See those new nails and that lighter wood near the top."

  Katheryn nodded. "It has been in somebody's interest to keep the place in good repair." She looked questioningly at Marjory.

  "It was only shut up two years back, my lady. The work might have been done just prior to that. It means nothing." Marjory went to the door and waited. It was obvious that she meant to escort them from the premises.

  But Katheryn did not intend to be hurried. "Did you find anything, Will?" she whispered.

  "Only this, my lady." He held out his hand. In it was a lump of solid wax, moulded into a strange shape, almost as if someone had been modelling a human form with it and had stopped before the legs were fashioned. "What do you think it is, my lady?"

  "I could not say, Will. Did you find nothing else of interest?"

  "There is much debris up there, but I found signs that candles had been burned...and some bones. I did not search the top floor. I merely looked and I could see nothing amiss but it was dark.”

  "You found bones, you say?"

  "Animal bones...meat, my lady."

  "I see." She turned to Marjory who was standing by the door, anxious to be gone. "You're sure nobody's been here, Mistress? You've seen and heard nothing?"

  "Nothing, my lady. I told you." Her irritation was becoming obvious. "If you have seen all you wish to see, I should be obliged if you would leave this place now."

  Katheryn knew when she was beaten. She bade Marjory farewell with studied politeness and left with as much dignity as the setting allowed.

  When they we
re back at Valentine's shop Katheryn turned to Will. "Have you kept that piece of wax you found?"

  "I have it safe, my lady." He laid it on the table in front of them and they stared at the strange object. Katheryn knew she could be wrong - she would seek Valentine's opinion on the matter - but she had heard of such objects before...and knew their meaning.

  *

  When Katheryn had spoken with Marjory Moore outside the mill, they had been watched by a man, well wrapped in a thick brown cloak, who stood in the shelter of the hedge that marked the townfield boundary.