The Devil's Priest

by Kate Ellis

  “That would be most kind, my lady,” said Mary gratefully. “He has said mass there on a few occasions but if it were to become a regular...”

  “I understand that the late Father Clement often said mass at the castle. Did you know him well.” Katheryn inclined her head expectantly, pleased with herself for introducing the subject of Father Clement so casually. She was unprepared for the reaction she received.

  Mary pressed her lips together disapprovingly. “I knew the man more than I should have liked.”

  “You mean he was unsuited to his calling?”

  Mary nodded, her eyes filled with righteous indignation. “When my husband began to court me, he did so in honour. He was a priest but one who sought Christian marriage: not every man is suited to abstinence.”

  “And Father Clement?”

  Mary took a deep breath. “There was no honour about that man. He fancied himself handsome and some might have thought him so. But he was a disgrace to his calling.”

  “Did he...make advances to you?”

  “When I was a bride of but three weeks, he called when my husband was about his duties. He asked me if...if I liked priests. The way he said it, I felt most uneasy. Then, when I was about to pour him some ale - I had thought to show him the hospitality due to a colleague of my husband’s - he grabbed my wrist and...”

  “Go on.” Katheryn nodded in encouragement.

  “He tried to kiss me...and touch me. I freed myself and shouted at him to get out of my house. He laughed and said I should have been flattered that he found me attractive. Then he left.”

  “Did you tell your husband?”

  Mary shook her head. “I said nothing. I thought it best. Please, my lady, say nothing of this. I should not like it known...or my husband to hear.”

  Katheryn agreed to keep Mary’s confidences and took the opportunity to bring up the subject of another priest. “Were you acquainted with Father Chadwick, the schoolmaster?”

  Mary looked relieved at the change of subject. “I heard dark tales of him and some say it was a relief to his pupils when he left the town. But it is but gossip. I did not know the man myself so I can tell you no more.”

  Katheryn thanked her and took her leave, assuring her that she would recommend her husband’s services to Sir Thomas.

  But as she walked slowly back to Dale Street she wondered if Father Nicholas had found out about Clement’s advances, in spite of Mary’s efforts to keep the knowledge from him.

  Was Father Clement’s murder an act of vengeance by a wronged husband? And here was a priest who liked dalliance with the opposite sex: could he have been Agnes’s lover? But then again, her lover had been alive after Clement’s death - unless she did not know of his death and her sighting of him was all the feverish imagination of an impressionable girl. And what mysterious trade was Father Nicholas to transact with the captain of the Santa Isabella tonight?

  Katheryn walked back to Valentine’s shop, oblivious to the sights and smells of the streets and the raucous shouting of the traders. Soon she would face Valentine again and she felt slightly nervous at the thought. Perhaps she should turn back and seek out Father James to hear her confession.

  *

  After a midday meal of freshly baked bread and cheese, Valentine rose from the table ready to resume his work in the shop. But Katheryn begged a moment of his time while Matilda and Jane cleared away. He smiled at her shyly and she suspected that he was as confused about the events of the previous evening as she was. As they sat before the roaring fire, Katheryn spoke first.

  “I talked with Father Nicholas’s wife, Mary, this morning. She told me something that might be of interest to us and I would value your opinion. Father Clement, it seems, was not a man who lived up to the standards of his calling and his behaviour was dishonourable in any man, let alone a priest. He made advances to Mistress Mary shortly after her wedding.”

  Valentine raised his eyebrows. “Father James had his reservations about the man, I know.

  “Could he have been Agnes’s lover? It is possible she did not hear of his death and thought that he had abandoned her. The news might not have reached her at the Old Hall as Mistress Moore kept her close confined.”

  “Then who killed her?”

  Someone who thought her privy to Clement’s secrets; someone who was afraid she would discover the truth about his death. If she had only confided in me...”

  “The world is full of ifs, Katheryn,” he sighed. “I have had no word from Captain Crosse yet: I hope William Staines has reminded his future father in law that we wish to see him. I spoke with Father James this morning about Father Chadwick but he was reluctant to discuss the man. I fear he was hiding something.”

  Katheryn sat forward. “Then we must discover what it is. Is William Staines a reliable man?”

  “I always thought so when we were brothers together at Birkenhead - and my Lord Derby clearly thinks so. His promotion in his lordship’s household has been swift.”

  “Then we shall hear from Captain Crosse by and by. We must be patient.” She smoothed her skirts and looked up. “And there is Father Nicholas to consider. What is he about? He is to do some mysterious business tonight with a Spanish captain: his wife spoke of it as a way of overcoming their poverty. What is it that could earn a humble chantry priest such a fortune? I am certain that it was something secret; something she should not have told me.”

  “There is but one way to find out.”

  As their eyes met they both knew how they would be spending that evening.

  *

  Katheryn’s trust in the word of William Staines was justified. He sent word by one of the Tower’s kitchen lads, that Captain Crosse would receive them that afternoon if their business would not take up too much of his time.

  Katheryn did not hesitate. She threw her cloak around her shoulders and looked at Valentine expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, Katheryn,” he said, “I have much to do. The constable’s wife is with child and needs my services. And then there is a child on Moore Street who has a fever and...”

  “Very well. I shall go alone. Where is the captain’s house?”

  Valentine knew better now than to argue with Katheryn once her mind was made up. “He lives on Bank Street near the strand. Be careful. Be mindful of the captain’s temper.”

  “If I cannot charm the captain, Valentine, then there is no hope for me. Have no fear.” She grinned at him and swept out.

  “Should you not take Jane?” he called after her. But it was no use. She would go her own way. It was hard to care for the safety of one who had no such cares herself. He went about his business and tried not to let worry distract him.

  Katheryn found Captain Crosse’s tall stone house easily enough and a servant announced her to the captain who stood formidably in the spacious parlour with his back to the fireplace.

  “My lady, this is an honour.” He bowed awkwardly. He was a large, bear-like man with a gruff voice, more at home bawling at recalcitrant sailors than playing host to a lady. “I had expected the apothecary.”

  “I apologise, captain. He was called to a patient and I have come in his stead. I wish to clear up a matter that concerns one of the novices lately in my charge. I was, until a few months ago, Abbess of the nunnery of Godstow near Oxford.” Captain Crosse raised his eyebrows in surprise. “One of my novices came to Liverpool to stay with relations when our house was closed. You are acquainted with the Moores?”

  “All Liverpool is. A family fond of money and power. So your novice was one of them?”

  “A poor relation only. She was murdered and I seek her killer.”

  The captain looked at her. This woman was worth listening to. He called a servant and ordered ale.

  “And what is my part in this, my lady. I did not know the girl and I arrived back in port only two days since.”

  “The girl was enamoured of a priest.”

  The captain leered knowingly. “Really? Anyone I know?”

>   “He took great care to avoid discovery. There was a priest who disappeared, I believe. If he should still be in the town...”

  The captain took a long drink, avoiding her eyes.

  “His name was Father Chadwick. He was master of the chantry school at Our Lady and St. Nicholas. I believe your son received a beating at his hands.”

  The captain looked up sharply.

  “If this priest was a man of violence, then he could be the murderer we seek. My novice, Sister Agnes, was an innocent young girl, unused to the ways of the world. How old is your daughter, captain?”

  Captain Crosse’s expression softened. “Eighteen years. She is to marry soon, as you no doubt know. Why do you ask?”

  “Agnes was the same age, sir. As her Abbess, I felt the responsibility of a mother towards her. Please, sir, if you know anything of this priest you must tell me.”

  Katheryn’s words struck home. For all his rough sailor’s ways, Captain Crosse was a sentimental man. He would be a tough captain to his men but an indulgent father to his children.

  “I only know that Chadwick is not the one you seek. You must look elsewhere for your sister’s murderer.”

  “But he is a most likely culprit. Do you know if he still dwells in Liverpool?”

  The captain shook his head sadly. “He is not the one you seek.”

  “But how can you be so sure? He did your son a great wrong and that proves he is capable of...”

  “He is dead. That’s how I know.” He blurted out the words and took another drink of ale before replenishing his tankard from the jug on the table.

  “Dead? How?”

  “I would not have this spread abroad because I take no blame, but I would not welcome questions. Father James knows the truth but he is bound by the seal of the confessional.” He looked at Katheryn awkwardly. “Are, er...abbesses bound by such a seal?”

  “If you wish it, captain, our conversation will go no further.”

  “If I had known the apothecary’s business, I should never have consented to this meeting, you understand? I wish to forget the sorry incident. But I will tell you if I can trust your silence.”

  Katheryn nodded. “You have my word.”

  The captain walked over to the window which overlooked the street and stood there in silence for a while before beginning his narrative.

  “Chadwick was vermin. He called himself a priest but he had...certain inclinations. I should never have sent my lad to his school if I had known. One day my Matthew came home in great pain, bruised black and blue. Chadwick had beaten him and tried to...touch him. I was mad with rage and sought the creature out. I was not in control of my temper, I admit. He ran from me out of the churchyard to the part of the strand past the Old Hall. Beyond the sand dunes there are quicksands which can suck a man down in minutes. He made for them then...” He took another drink of ale. “I stopped but he kept running. Then he disappeared...sucked into the sand. There was nothing I could do and - like I said to Father James - nothing I would have done. I was glad the world was rid of such a man. But I was not to blame - Father James said that. It was an accident. Though I had no wish to save him even if I had been able to.”

  He finished his ale and put the tankard down on the rough oak table in the centre of the room.

  “So he is certainly dead?”

  “Certainly. He is beneath the sand somewhere...all the easier for his soul to travel to hell.”

  Katheryn stood. “Father James was right, captain. You have nothing to blame yourself for. I will take my leave and wish your daughter happiness in her marriage.”

  “I thank you, my lady.” He bowed clumsily, his expression still troubled. Captain Crosse would not readily forget the death of Father Chadwick but, Katheryn hoped, with a few lively grandchildren to distract him, the memory and the guilt would fade in time.

  *

  The sick of Liverpool kept Valentine busy that afternoon. But the news he had gleaned during his visit to the constable’s wife, who was with child for the ninth time, lifted any tiredness he felt and made him hurry back to tell Katheryn what he had learned.

  On his return, he found her helping Ralph in the shop. He took her arm and gently drew her into the parlour.

  Katheryn told her own news first. She had no wish to betray Captain Crosse’s confidences, but she told Valentine with certainty that Father Chadwick could no longer be suspected of any connection with Agnes’s death.

  ”And I heard some talk while I was about my work,” Valentine said when she had finished. “The constables have arrested two men for the murder of Father Clement.”

  “And are they guilty?”

  “That I cannot say, of course. But they are held in the jail beneath the Guildhall.”

  “Is there evidence against them?”

  “They had cut the purse of a baker near the Townsend Bridge. The baker raised the hue and cry and the villains were caught. They had the baker’s money all right and they were on their way to town to spend it in an ale house.”

  “But what evidence is there that they killed Father Clement?”

  “They possessed a crucifix. As far as I know that is all.”

  “That means nothing. They could have got that from anywhere. What do the villains say?”

  “They deny everything. But then they face the gallows so they would deny it.”

  “Has the crucifix been identified as Father Clement’s?”

  “I do not know, truly. I know only what I have told you. Surely this has nothing to do with Agnes’s death.”

  Katheryn put down the pot of ointment she was holding and turned to face Valentine. “I should like to question these villains. If you wish to come with me...”

  “This is foolishness, Katheryn. You cannot go questioning the King’s prisoners.”

  “My duties of an Abbess included visiting those less fortunate. Did not Our Lord...?”

  “The town jail is not a pleasant place. There is disease and...”

  “If we are to find out the truth, we must ask questions. I wish to know if these men killed Father Clement. That is all.”

  Valentine saw that he would lose the fight. But he couldn’t let her go alone to such a place. They knew him at the jail and he would be let through without question. Katheryn needed him.

  “Very well, but remember that I advised against it. I will come with you, of course.”

  “Your presence will make the task so much lighter.”

  A few minutes later Valentine walked with Katheryn to the Guildhall, just fifty yards down the street. The town gaol occupied the ground floor and up a flight of steps was the well appointed meeting place of the mayor and his council. A stark contrast under the same roof.

  The gaoler, a big sweaty man in a stained leather jerkin that strained at the seams against its wearer’s bulk, greeted Valentine like an old friend and launched into a recital of the symptoms of his chronic stomach ache. Valentine listened patiently while Katheryn hung back just within the doorway. After giving some advice and promising to drop off some medicine later which was bound to give relief, Valentine made his request. The gaoler looked slightly uncomfortable but could hardly refuse.

  He unlocked one of the fetid cells and Valentine entered, Katheryn following, her hand to her nose. On the filthy, flea ridden straw pallets sat two sorry looking creatures, probably in their twenties but with the wizened, weary look of old men; their lank straggly hair was a uniform grey with filth. They looked up with defeated eyes. They were used to visitors, all of whom were hostile.

  Valentine greeted them courteously and Katheryn could see the surprise on their faces. These men were used to being treated little better than dogs. All human dignity had left them a fair while ago. She took her hand from her nose: these men stank but she did not wish to remind them of the fact.

  “My friends,” Valentine began. Katheryn noticed Valentine’s gentle greeting kindle a spark of humanity in the villains’ eyes. “I hope it will be in order to ask you a few quest
ions.”

  The men made no reply but stared dumbly. Valentine continued.

  “I understand that you are accused of robbing a man, a baker?” The men again stayed silent. This crime was not in dispute. “And the magistrates would like to convict you of another, more serious crime - murder.”

  One of the men hauled himself upright. “That’s a lie. We never murdered nobody. I swear on my dead baby’s grave...we never. We robbed that fat bastard to eat. He was on the bridge, his purse bulging and our bellies empty. Believe us, sir. We took only money. We meant no harm to no one.”