The Devil's Priest

by Kate Ellis

He led her to the bed in the corner where they pleasurably put all thought of Father James’s visitors out of their minds.

  CHAPTER 15

  Katheryn rose early and, after Jane had helped her to dress, decided to pay a visit to the castle. There was no need to involve Valentine in her plans - he was already busy in his herb garden. She would take Jane with her and introduce herself to Sir Edward. She had been patient long enough.

  Katheryn judged that it would be best to arrive on horseback: speaking to the guards at the castle gate from an elevated position on a fine white horse would give her the psychological advantage. Will was only too happy to saddle her mare. He had polished the leather of her harness and it gleamed in the autumn sunlight. Katheryn was pleased it had stopped raining. It would be hard to make an impressive entrance sopping wet.

  Her efforts paid off. The guards let her through with a deferential bow and messengers were sent to seek out Sir Edward, Lord Molyneux and Sir Thomas being absent.

  She was shown to a comfortable chamber, part of the constable’s private quarters in the keep. No soldier, even an officer, lived with such rich hangings to the walls. She sat down on a well carved chair and fingered the beautifully woven carpet that was draped across the polished oak table. A fire burned cheerfully in the grate and the room smelled sweetly of herbs.

  The door opened and a young man stepped in. He was only about two inches taller than she was but his lack of height was compensated for in good looks. Katheryn stood up and he bowed as he kissed her hand. “Lady Katheryn. It is a great pleasure to meet you. ”

  “Oh, I have visited the castle before, Sir Edward.”

  He smiled charmingly. “Of course. My brother entertained you did he not. That time I was not told of your visit and I apologise for such a lack of manners: I shall have whoever was responsible for such an oversight punished, I assure you, my lady.”

  “There is no need for that.” The social niceties were over. It was time to come to the point. “I came that time to pay my compliments to your father and your brother was kind enough to receive me. I also took the opportunity to speak with Sir Thomas of a matter that has been concerning me. Please sit down, Sir Edward.”

  He did as he was told. There was something in his expression that suggested guilt. Something was troubling this young man...his conscience perhaps?”

  She smiled to put him at his ease. “I shall tell you what this is about, Sir Edward. It may be that you can help me.”

  “Of course, my lady. If I can help you in any way...” Sir Edward began to look uneasy.

  “Before the closure of the religious houses, I had the honour to be Abbess of Godstow Abbey near Oxford.”

  Sir Edward looked mildly surprised. She was not how he imagined an Abbess to look...elderly and dried up from a lifetime of self denial.

  “And in my charge was a young woman who was soon to take her vows. She was young, unworldly and very pretty.” She watched Edward’s face carefully. “Her name was Agnes Moore.”

  Edward was not adept at hiding his feelings: he had never had to be. Katheryn saw the flash of alarm in his eyes and knew she had come to the right place.

  She continued. “This girl, Agnes, was alone in the world. Her only living relative was here in Liverpool, Mistress Marjory Moore. Mistress Moore agreed to take her in but Agnes was not afforded the dignity of a member of the family. She was treated as a poor relation, an unpaid servant. The girl was deeply unhappy.”

  Edward swallowed hard.

  “Agnes met a man who, for some reason, could not or would not pay court to her in the usual way; who used her. She became pregnant but lost the child. The man, whoever he was, did not show himself interested in her fate and did not contact her. But she was loyal to him, most likely misguidedly so - she had been brought up in innocence after all - and she never disclosed his identity. Are you all right, Sir Edward?”

  He slumped in his chair and took a long drink of wine. “She was a Moore, did you say?” Katheryn nodded. “I did not know. I would never...I did not know. I thought she was just a serving wench after a tumble. If I’d known...”

  Katheryn leaned forward and spoke quietly. “You know something of this matter, Sir Edward?”

  “I meant her no harm. I thought her willing.”

  “You realise she is dead, Sir Edward?”

  The expression on his face told her that he did not.

  “She was found dead in the river. Master Valentine says there are signs that she was held beneath the water and drowned.”

  “I had nothing to do with her death, you must believe me, my lady. I wished her no harm. She fled from me and it was dark so I could not see where she went. I meant her no harm.”

  He looked down, studying the goblet in his hands. Maybe the shock of this would cure his disregard for the feelings of the young women he thought of as fair game...but Katheryn doubted it. After the initial remorse had worn off, he would be back to his old ways.

  “You must tell me what happened, Sir Edward. From the beginning.”

  He looked at her sheepishly. Normally he had no qualms about boasting of his sexual conquests, but he did not relish doing so before a lady...and a former Abbess at that. But she was not going to give up until she knew the truth. And the truth would exempt him from the suspicion of his having been Agnes’s truant lover. She had spoken of a priest, after all.

  Edward took a deep breath. “One of the guards was with this girl. I thought her one of the whores of the town. They hang about the garrison like flies around a dung heap because this place is good for business.”

  Katheryn nodded. “Go on.”

  “She was pretty and I fancied her for myself. She thought I was Captain Wharton and I did not disillusion her.”

  “Did she say why she wanted to speak to Captain Wharton?”

  Sir Edward’s handsome face was a mask of concentration as he tried to remember. “She mentioned a priest of their mutual acquaintance. I think she was looking for him.” He smiled unpleasantly. “I wondered what secret dealings such a pretty one could have with a priest. She seemed most anxious to find him and she even came with me willingly to a little place I know on the strand on the promise of a meeting with this, er... man of God.” He laughed. “I guess that what they say about priests is true: they are just like the rest of us. But whoever he was, he was a fortunate man. She was a lovely girl.”

  One look at Katheryn’s face made him regret having spoken so frankly. “She was indeed a lovely girl, Sir Edward...and one whose life has been destroyed.”

  Sir Edward looked suitably chastened. “You must believe me, my lady, I had no part in her death. I have my weaknesses but I am no killer.”

  “No, Sir Edward, I don’t believe you are.” She paused to take a sip of wine. Edward looked at her appealingly. She could see his attraction, his charm, but fought against being taken in by it. “Tell me, Sir Edward, where did you take Agnes?”

  “A boathouse, not much used now. It used to be owned by the brothers of the Priory and it is a quiet and private place.”

  “And what did you do in this boathouse?”

  Sir Edward had the grace to blush. “She was willing: I assure you that I did not force her.”

  Katheryn looked sceptical. “And she fled, you say?”

  “Like the devil was after her. It’s the first time I’ve had that effect on a woman,” he added immodestly.

  “And you saw nobody else?”

  “I saw nobody in particular. But there were many on the river and the strand that night.”

  “Somebody killed Agnes, Sir Edward, and I have resolved to find out who it was.”

  “Then I wish you good fortune in your quest, my lady. But as you see, I cannot help you. The one you seek is elsewhere. It has been a delight to meet you, my lady, and I hope you will dine at the castle soon. But now you must excuse me, my lady. I have duties to perform which can wait no longer.”

  He stood up and bowed low. His manners, Katheryn noted, were impeccab
le. If he went to court, this young man would rise quickly in the King’s favour...and in the favour of the ladies of the court.

  “There is one more matter, Sir Edward. I crave your patience for a few more moments.” He sat down again, concealing his anxiety to be away. “You have a chaplain at the castle?” Sir Edward looked relieved. “What manner of a man is he? Could he have been Agnes’s lover? I apologise for my forthrightness but I would value your opinion.”

  A grin was forming on Edward’s face. “Our chaplain would not know what to do with a woman if she lay naked before him.” He suddenly remembered who he was talking to and checked himself. “No, my lady, I do not think he was the kind to play the lover. Besides, he is in London with my father. Our chaplain was not Agnes’s lover, I am certain. She was far too good for him.” He smiled to himself, recalling his encounter with the dead girl.

  Katheryn, trying hard to conceal her disapproval, stood up. She would leave Sir Edward to his carnal memories and his mysteriously urgent duties.

  *

  Valentine was much relieved when Katheryn returned to his shop in Dale Street. When he had noticed her absence he had assumed that she had left early to look round the market. But when he had seen that her horse had gone, he had asked Will where she was.

  Will’s reply had unnerved him. If the inhabitants of the castle were involved in murder, Katheryn’s persistence could put her in danger. Her rank, he knew, would afford her some protection, but if she were to get too close to the truth - if the killer thought himself in peril - then who knew what action he would take to avoid discovery. It took a great deal of effort for Valentine not to scold her and he did his best to listen without comment when she reported her conversation with Sir Edward.

  “Then Lord Molyneux’ younger son is a violator of young women but no murderer. Is that what you would tell me?”

  “That is about the truth of it. But he insists she was a willing party to their dalliance.”

  “He would say that, wouldn’t he.” Valentine shook his head. He had seen the bruises.

  “Her killer might have...”

  “That is always possible.” Valentine didn’t want to consider such unpleasantness and he changed the subject swiftly. “While you were at the castle William Staines called for medicine for the steward at the Tower. He also invited me to his wedding next month. I questioned him about Captain Crosse and it seems that his future wife does have a young brother at the school...a scallywag by the sound of him.”

  “Can we speak with the captain?”

  “He is in port now and William will tell him that we wish to see him.”

  “That is good. We must discover more of Father Chadwick.”

  “I heard another piece of news today from one of my patients - it is the talk of Liverpool until tomorrow when they find something else to gossip about,” he smiled. “It seems that the village of Childwall not far from here has been plagued by grave robbers.”

  “Grave robbers?”

  “Their motives, whatever they are, can be naught but evil. It seems they robbed the dead of parts of their earthly bodies. I thought of Father Clement’s hand.”

  “Come, Valentine, have you, as a man of medicine, never been tempted to discover more of the workings of the human body? In Oxford I heard that such things went on.”

  Valentine looked horrified. “I should not disturb the dead in their place of rest to do it.”

  “Of course. But there might be some with fewer scruples.”

  “I think it more likely that the dead are disturbed in the interests of Satan than of knowledge, Katheryn.”

  “You are probably right.” She smiled at him. “You usually are. Where is Childwall?”

  “Quite close. Half an hour’s ride...less.”

  Valentine sighed. He wanted to get out, to clear his head, to get away from the stinking town and its market day crowds. “Shall we ride to Childwall and talk with the vicar at All Saints church there? It will not take long.”

  Katheryn agreed with this suggestion: her desire to get out into the fresh air matched Valentine’s own. Will saddled Valentine’s ageing brown cob for him and then helped Katheryn back into the gleaming saddle of her white mare.

  Childwall was a small village of a few farms and cottages, an inn, a manor house and an impressive church which also served several nearby communities, not unlike Katheryn’s own village of Cheadle.

  Valentine was acquainted with the vicar: he had treated him for a persistent skin condition which, Valentine was delighted to see, had improved considerably. He was an elderly, unworldly looking man.

  “A bad business, Vicar,” Valentine began after introducing Katheryn. “It is the talk of Liverpool this day. Have you any idea who would do such a thing?”

  The vicar shook his grey head sadly. “I have no idea. I am sure it can be no one in the parish. I know all the people here. There are good, there are bad; honest men and rogues. But nobody, I am certain, would indulge in such practices. I should have had some inkling if any of my flock were followers of Satan, surely. A priest knows these things.”

  “Then whom do you suspect?”

  “There are many beggars and vagabonds ready to kill a man for a few pence or commit evil deeds that honest men would tremble at. There have been such passing through the village...many such. Nowhere is safe, as you know Valentine.”

  “What has been done in your churchyard?” Valentine asked quietly.

  Katheryn felt sorry for the elderly priest who looked as though he carried the worries of the world on his shoulders.

  “They dug up three graves: old Randle Carter who died a week since; Jinny Myat...a poor young maid who died of a fever eight days back; and Matthew Potter who passed from this life but ten days ago. All recently buried; the earth freshly piled on their graves and easy to dig, I don’t doubt. I came into the church gate on Monday at daybreak and found the graves dug up.” He swallowed hard as though the memory disturbed him. “The bodies could be seen and there were...parts missing. Forgive me. I cannot bear to think about it. I fetched the sexton and we covered the graves. Then I said the prayers for the dead afresh. It was a terrible business....a terrible business.” He shook his head again as though in disbelief.

  “It is indeed terrible, Father.” Katheryn spoke for the first time. “Have you any idea why this abomination was committed?”

  “I can think of no other reason than the service of Satan, madam. I have heard that such, er...things are needed for the ceremonies performed by those who have the devil as their master.”

  “And can you remember anyone - any stranger to the village - who has been seen in the district?”

  “There was a ragged woman begging with her child and a couple of men who looked like cut-throats passing through frightening the farmers’ wives. And the juggler.”

  Katheryn looked at Valentine. “Juggler? What juggler?”

  “I was passing by the inn on Thursday on my way to visit Mistress Walsh who is sick, and he was displaying his skills outside. No doubt he went in there and drank his takings afterwards. I thought no more about it until now.”

  “What did he look like, this juggler?” asked Katheryn.

  “He was a tall, gangling fellow. Yellow hair.”

  *

  The yellow haired juggler made his way to the old mill. There were things he had to show: things he would be well paid for. He had intended to wait until later in the day when he had earned enough for the next week’s food and lodging by displaying his skills to the market day crowds. But what he had in his leather bag would not wait. It was best to get it to its destination without delay.

  He reached the Old Hall and stood for a while staring at the old mill which was now a pile of charred bricks and timbers, dampened by the persistent drizzle. Where was Mires? This had been his refuge of late; the place where he had been assured of secrecy for his practices.

  There was one who might know where Mires was; one who had used that man’s skills to his own advan
tage many times.

  The juggler pulled up his hood to hide his greasy yellow curls and made his way quickly to the castle to seek Captain Wharton.

  *

  Captain Wharton looked from his window and thought of the woman he had seen that morning walking across the castle yard escorted by Sir Edward. Lady Katheryn Bulkeley; what was she about? Would she never stop asking questions? Wharton hoped his involvement in the matter would soon be over: he was a frightened man.

  And the visit of the juggler - the creature with the pallid face and the yellow hair - had only added to his fear. He had asked Wharton to deliver a message: he was to tell Mires that the juggler would meet him in the Mermaid that very evening to take delivery of certain items.