Blood Moon

by Stephen Wheeler

  ‘Raoul - stop,’ I said quickly. ‘Don’t be a fool. Come with me to Prior Herbert. We can make him understand.’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s you who doesn’t understand. They’ll hang me anyway.’ He took a step nearer but I barred his way with my hand.

  ‘No they won’t,’ I implored him. ‘Think about it. At the moment you are merely accused but if you run you will be as good as admitting guilt. I can prove you didn’t kill Effie.’

  Behind him I could hear the gaoler coming back to life. At any moment he would raise the hue and cry and all would be lost. I could tell Raoul was not going to wait for that.

  ‘It’s too late, brother. Stand aside,’ he barked in desperation. ‘Please!’

  I stood my ground but he was thirty years my junior and far stronger than I as he demonstrated on the bedchamber floor. I had no hope of stopping him. He ran at me and I braced myself for the blow. But instead of pushing me off he steps as I feared he somehow leapt over and past me down the stairs and in a moment was away across the square in the same direction as Adelle had gone. All I could do was close my eyes and pray to a merciful God that neither of them should come to any harm.

  *

  ‘Aow! Careful brother, that stuff stings.’

  The gaoler was making the most of his injury as I dabbed at the wound on the side of his head.

  ‘It’s only a graze,’ I told him. ‘You’ll have a proud lump to show your children in the morning.’

  ‘What about me?’ said the gatekeeper. ‘My bump is on the top of my head. Will the prior recompense me, too?’

  ‘You’ll both stink of vinegar by the time I’ve finished,’ I reassured the pair of them. ‘Don’t worry. No-one will doubt your heroism.’

  The three of us were down in the gatekeeper’s lodge. The shouts of men, hallooing of horns and bark of dogs in the distance told me that the hue and cry was already well underway. Fortunately it was a cloudy night and so, God willing, Raoul and Adelle should be able to evade capture – at least for tonight.

  As soon as Raoul had gone I’d run up the remaining steps to check on the gaoler. Raoul needn’t have panicked. The man was still sitting on the floor holding his head and wondering what had happened to him. There was plenty of blood but then even a superficial head wound can bleed profusely. It looked worse than it was. Having satisfied myself that the gaoler’s injury was more to his pride than to his body, I led him downstairs to be with his friend the gatekeeper who was suffering in a similar vein - after all, no man likes to think he has been outwitted by a woman.

  ‘It was the boy who hit me,’ insisted the gatekeeper.

  ‘And I’m the King of Scots!’ said the gaoler. ‘Sorry brother, but the boy was still in his cage when he got thumped.’

  ‘Well who else did it, then?’ the gatekeeper retorted. ‘No girl can knock out a grown man in his prime.’

  ‘You haven’t met his wife,’ muttered the gaoler behind his hand. ‘You just don’t want to admit you was caught with your pants down, that’s all.’

  ‘And you weren’t, I suppose?’

  ‘I was just being polite, treating a lady with respect.’

  ‘You spoke to her?’ I said, rinsing out the cloth in my bowl. ‘The Lady Adelle?’

  ‘Prrf! That was no lady,’ snorted the gaoler. ‘She was a right little prick-tease – begging your pardon, brother.’

  ‘And you’d know all about one of them, wouldn’t you?’ mocked his friend. ‘Pretty girl smiles at you and you just hand over the keys like a puppy.’

  ‘I didn’t just hand them over, pea-brain. She took them - after she whacked me over the head with her hammer.’

  ‘Ha! Whacked you with her perfume, more like - eh brother?’ The gatekeeper laughed at his own quip.

  This didn’t sound at all like the Lady Adelle I knew. A flirt - and no lady? But I suppose any wife who fears for her husband’s life might stoop to such depths to secure his freedom, even one of such noble birth as the Lady Adelle’s. Or maybe these two were simply embellishing the tale in order to cover for their own negligence.

  Whatever the truth of it, I wasn’t going to find out more as the door was suddenly thrown open and both men instantly leapt to attention. I turned in dismay to see Geoffrey de Saye standing on the threshold.

  He snapped his fingers at the two men. ‘You two – out!’

  They didn’t need telling twice. My two brave warriors darted out with amazingly renewed agility, all thoughts of injury now gone.

  De Saye quietly closed the door after them and for the first time in fifteen years we were alone together. Suddenly the room seemed very small indeed.

  ‘Well well bone-breaker, here you are again. I can call you that, can I? Bone-breaker?’ He cupped his ear facetiously. ‘I hear no-one laughing now.’

  ‘I merely go where I am needed, my lord,’ I said holding up the vinegar bowl with its bloodied rags for him to see. I was annoyed to see that the hand that was holding the bowl was shaking very slightly.

  He glanced briefly at the bowl and then back at me. ‘Except that this time you were here before your skills were called for - before the boy escaped.’

  ‘If your spies told you that, my lord, they will also have told you that I tried to persuade him not to run.’

  He cupped his chin in his hand and nodded thoughtfully. ‘You still think he’s innocent?’

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  I debated whether to tell him about the poison - but was there any point? His next utterance convinced me there was not.

  ‘The evidence says otherwise.’

  ‘No court in England will convict him on it.’

  He smiled wryly. ‘No court in Suffolk, maybe.’

  He was right, of course. If he managed to get Raoul out of Bury and back to Norfolk he could pack a court with his own men and get whatever verdict he wanted - assuming he’d even bother getting him that far and not have him killed en route. Raoul wouldn’t be the first prisoner to be shot while trying to escape.

  ‘In any event it’s all academic at the moment, wouldn’t you say? The bird has flown.’

  De Saye shook his head. ‘He won’t remain so for long.’

  ‘Well, he seems to have successfully eluded your lordship so far.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  There was only the two of us. Why not tell him what I really thought?

  ‘I know about the meeting in Stamford,’ I said. ‘I’m guessing Raoul de Gray is the real reason you are here.’

  At that his smile evaporated confirming at the very least that Onethumb’s theory about the two London merchants had been correct.

  ‘Why would I be interested in the fate of a bishop’s nephew?’

  ‘I don’t know, my lord, but you seem very keen to have him convicted for this murder.’

  ‘That’s because he did it.’

  I smiled crookedly. ‘We will have to disagree on that.’

  He took a step closer to me - too close for comfort. The memory of the last time we were alone together still haunted me. Fifteen years older he may be, but I still found his presence intimidating.

  ‘Whether you agree or not, bone-breaker, is of little consequence.’

  ‘It’s curious though isn’t it, my lord, that you should arrive in Bury now just as there has been another murder in the town? Just like last time.’

  He stepped even closer so that now I could feel his breath on my face. It was all I could do not to cringe.

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘It was merely an observation.’

  ‘You think I killed the girl?’

  ‘I don’t know who killed her.’

  ‘But you have a theory.’ He nodded. ‘Very well. We’re alone, there’s no-one to hear. Tell me what you think happened.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I think we both know Raoul de Gray didn’t kill his wife’s maid. I think you know who did and the reason why. I think she knew something, or discovered something that so terrified her tha
t she needed to tell someone about it. She did try to tell me but failed and then she was killed before she could tell anyone else. I think you want Raoul de Gray blamed for the murder so that you can take him into custody and have him convicted though for what reason I don’t know. There are a great many other things I don’t yet know. But I will and when I do…’

  I got no further before he had his hand on my throat and me pressed up against the wall. I cried out mostly in shock but also in some pain as his fingers dug into my neck so I could hardly breathe.

  ‘Now you listen to me,’ he growled. ‘You’ve been warned once by the prior. Now I’m warning you. Stop this meddling in matters that don’t concern you and go back to being a monk or by Christ and all His saints the de Gray boy won’t be the only one to feel the hangman’s noose.’

  As he said it he tightened his grip on my neck until I could hardly breathe at all. I was starting to panic from lack of air.

  ‘Is this wise, my lord?’ I choked trying to prise his hand from my neck and failing. ‘There are witnesses. Those two men are abbey men. They will attest that they left us alone together. If my body is found here even you will find it difficult to explain away. We are not in the forest now.’

  My words seemed to strike some kind of a chord with him. I don’t think he realised quite how close he was to throttling me. His eyes seemed to have a mist behind them that took a minute to clear. It was that reference to the last time he attacked me that did it, I think. He momentarily increased his grip before relaxing his hold and letting me go. I gasped holding my throat. I cannot describe the relief it was to be able to breathe again.

  ‘We have unfinished business, you and I,’ he breathed. ‘Don’t imagine anything on that score has changed. And when all this is over, rest assured we will speak again.’

  ‘When all what is over, my lord?’ I choked.

  He didn’t reply but turned smartly and marched out of the room letting the door bang shut after him.

  I have never been so relieved to see the back of anyone. After a moment I fell gratefully to my knees with the room swimming around me and looking down I was amazed to see broken pottery on the floor and realised it was the vinegar bowl I had been holding.

  ‘Well,’ I coughed to the empty room. ‘It is always pleasant to renew old acquaintances.’

  I dragged myself onto the gatekeeper’s stool with my legs still unsteady beneath me and my bowels loosening. My throat felt as though a hammer had hit it but with each swallow it was getting easier so there was probably no permanent damage done. I didn’t really think he’d kill me - not then at any rate. But what did amaze me was that he hadn’t arrested me. It was surely an ideal opportunity given the circumstances. The old Geoffrey de Saye would have done so without a moment’s hesitation. But like a great many unanswered questions that day it would be a while before I learned the reason why.

  Chapter 13

  A CHAPTER OF LIES

  The next morning the abbey was rife with rumour about Raoul’s dramatic escape from Anselm’s tower. All had heard the hue and cry which had gone on for most of the night and many of my brothers approached me for details having heard of my part in the affair – or what they thought was my part in it. It was curious how much each man’s version of events differed from the next, and so far from the truth that in the end I was unclear myself as to exactly what happened. I had been hoping my two friends, the gaoler and the gatekeeper, might be able to shed more light but when I looked for them I learned to my distress that they had both been put in the town stocks. This seemed excessive punishment simply for losing a prisoner but entirely in keeping with Lord de Saye’s vindictive nature. As soon as I was able, I hurried to the marketplace where I did indeed find them shackled by their ankles and wrists and to my further dismay saw that de Saye had also silenced them with gags so they could not tell what had really happened. But I could at least examine their wounds and to reassure their questioning eyes that nothing worse would befall them. In this I spoke more in hope than conviction since nothing was certain where de Saye was concerned.

  I returned to the abbey in time for Chapter where I was disturbed to find de Saye already seated at the front next to the prior. Now what? More games? Seeing him here at least gave me hope that our meeting in the gatekeeper’s lodge might have worried him more than he pretended and that I was therefore onto something. But what I saw beside him now made my heart sink. A table had been erected upon which was prominently displayed Raoul’s bloodied cap and next to it, mercifully hidden by a clean linen cloth, was what I guessed from the shape must be the remains of poor Effie. I could see that we were in for some of de Saye’s theatricals.

  Prior Herbert opened the Chapter with the usual prayer of supplication:

  ‘The Peace of the Lord be with you and may He give His blessing on these our solemn deliberations - Amen.’

  The response was more muted than usual in deference, I presumed, to the dead person in our midst, and there was no reading today from the Rule. Instead, Prior Herbert waited until every last shuffle and cough had died away before rising again slowly and beginning his address which he did in a voice that was barely audible:

  ‘Brothers, you have all heard the news I know. Yesterday morning the body of a young girl was found in the marketplace which has since been identified as being that of the maid to the Lady Adelle de Gray and her husband, Raoul.’

  This was greeted with gasps of anguish. It was indeed dreadful news, not just because of the death but because of who the victim was. Along with her master and mistress Effie was a guest of the abbey and therefore under Saint Edmund’s personal protection. It is thus a great dishonour to him and to the abbey that any harm should have come to her whilst in our care.

  ‘How did she die?’ came a voice from the back of the room.

  ‘Strangled,’ Herbert replied glancing at de Saye for confirmation. ‘Yes, I believe she was strangled.’

  It was just as I feared: Herbert was allowing himself to be manipulated by de Saye – something Abbot Samson would never have permitted and possibly not Hugh Northwold either. Where was Hugh now when we needed him?

  More agonized murmurings now from my brother monks. ‘Is there a suspect?’ asked one. ‘Do we have a name?’

  ‘We do not know for certain,’ Herbert admitted, ‘but evidence points to the girl’s master as her likely murderer. My lord de Saye here, acting with my full authority, arrested Raoul de Gray shortly after the discovery of the body and placed him in the abbey lockup. However, late yesterday afternoon he managed to escape and is currently at large.’

  Louder groans of distress came from my brothers.

  ‘He had help, of course,’ Herbert continued. ‘He could not have managed it alone. The question is, help from whom?’

  He looked meaningfully around the room and while he did not look directly at me everyone in the room knew I’d been there when Raoul escaped. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.

  ‘It has been suggested,’ Herbert went on after a suitable pause, ‘that the Lady Adelle was somehow complicit. But we have to ask ourselves if a mere female, especially one of such gentle and noble birth and so recently weakened by the efforts of giving birth, would have had the strength to free her husband from a secure cell, or how she could have achieved it?’

  Ask the gatekeeper, I felt like saying, he will tell you how – with guile and cunning. The voice at the back of the room piped up again:

  ‘You mentioned evidence, Brother Prior?’

  Herbert nodded. ‘Thank you brother, I was just coming to that. But first we have to ask ourselves why? Why did he run? After all, is this the action of an innocent man? Why did he not remain to defend himself? And why did the Lady Adelle not try to dissuade him?’

  More murmurings of disquiet from my brothers, but that voice at the back spoke up again:

  ‘Any fox will run when he sees the flash of the farmer’s knife. It does not prove he stole the chicken.’

  A chuckle or two at
this eased the tension a little. I looked round to see if I could identify the owner of the voice but could not. But Herbert was not to be thrown so easily. He conferred quickly with de Saye before turning abruptly to the table beside him and lifting from it Raoul’s battered cap - using the same little stick, I noticed, that I had used in the marketplace the previous day. The cap looked much as it had then except that the blood had congealed into an even stickier mess. A gasp of revulsion went up as brothers recoiled from it.

  ‘This was found beside the body of the murdered girl,’ Herbert announced waving the wretched thing around dramatically.

  ‘What is it?’ whispered one agitated voice.

  ‘A cap,’ answered his neighbour.

  ‘Indeed it is,’ said Herbert. ‘A man’s cap. And I can confirm that it has been irrefutably identified as belonging to Raoul de Gray.’

  More moans from the room. I was growing more and more uneasy as the drama unfolded. This was turning into a trial with Herbert as prosecution counsel. But where was the defence? Or, for that matter, the judge? But Herbert was unrelenting:

  ‘Some of you may have heard the rumours about this boy. What we know for sure is that at the very moment his wife was giving birth to their first child and most in need of her husband’s support, Raoul de Gray was in the town cavorting with prostitutes and drunkards. And when he returns at last the worse for ale and doubtless still filled with unsated lust, what does he do? His wife, nobly modest before her newborn infant, naturally declines his attentions, so he turns instead to the one person unable to resist his advances: His wife’s maid. We can only guess where those excesses may have taken him.’

  This was outrageous. Herbert could not possibly have known what had gone on in the privacy of the de Gray’s bedchamber. But his graphic description had the effect he wanted. Heads were beginning to shake in disgust and I even saw one or two fists being shaken. It was no good, I could remain silent no longer.

  ‘Just one moment, Brother Prior,’ I said rising to my feet.

  ‘Ah,’ smiled Herbert. ‘Master Walter - the fugitive’s friend.’