by C. B. Hanley
Mistress Anne made a tutting noise and placed a cup of ale down in front of him. ‘Alys, this is my sister Cecily and her husband William, who is the steward at the lord earl’s castle.’
Alys had noticed the castle as she had approached Conisbrough – well, you could hardly miss it, could you, it was a landmark for miles around – and she felt a little overawed at meeting someone who worked in such a fine place. Her dealings with the castle in Lincoln, and the folk who lived there, had been scant. But she had no time to think further on the subject for she was being embraced by Edwin’s aunt, who smelled of herbs even more strongly than her sister and who felt comfortable.
They all sat and everyone looked expectantly at Alys.
She took a deep breath. ‘Mistresses, Master – from what you’ve said already, I think there has been some confusion.’
William thumped his cup down on the table. ‘You can say that again. First the lad mopes about like a calf because he’s left you there, then he decides to ask the lord earl can he marry you, and then he mopes about even more because you’re married already.’
Alys tried not to stare at his disfigured face. ‘I beg your pardon, but I am not married and I never have been.’
Mistress Cecily spoke soothingly. ‘So that is where the confusion has arisen. Why don’t you explain it all to us, from the beginning?’
And so Alys told them of the siege, of the attack on and subsequent death of her father, of her two eldest brothers both being missing, and of the discovery of the body of one of them, Nick, on the doorstep. She faltered and felt tears coming to her eyes when she described the scene, remembering the fear, the terror … and the comfort of having with her the man who had come to dominate her thoughts ever since.
Mistress Anne patted her hand and William muttered something about war. Alys steadied herself and wiped her eyes on a corner of her apron before continuing.
‘And then it was over. The other army came, there was a great battle. The city was looted but our house was saved by a knight, Edwin’s friend. The children and I hid. But within another day they were all gone, and the city had to try and right itself again.’
She looked around at her audience. ‘And then a miracle happened – or at least I thought it was at the time. My eldest brother Thomas had been away from the city since before the siege started, away on business for his master – he was an apprentice, you see.’ She wasn’t sure whether they would know what she meant, but they nodded in understanding so she continued. ‘When he didn’t come back I was worried, but in fact he’d been staying with one of his master’s business partners about a dozen miles away, and once the city fell they said he’d be better off staying with them and not going back, because it would be too dangerous. So he stayed there during the whole siege.’
William interrupted. ‘Leaving a girl and a pile of children in a besieged city? Some brother he is.’
In her heart of hearts Alys would have liked to agree with him, but she ought to show some family loyalty. ‘Well, my father was still alive at that time and Thomas had no reason to know what would happen to him – or to Nick – after.’
She expelled a breath and looked up at the ceiling and back down at the floor. ‘While he was there, he got to talking with the merchant about his apprenticeship, about Father’s business and so on, and he obviously thought Thomas would be a good catch, for when he arrived back in the city after the siege he brought a wife with him – the merchant’s eldest daughter.’
Understanding was dawning in Mistress Anne’s eyes. ‘And it was she whom Turold – the lord earl’s messenger – spoke to when he entered your shop?’
Alys nodded, a lump coming to her throat. ‘Yes. And neither she nor Thomas told me about the visit until it was too late, until he had long gone and I couldn’t chase after him.’ She remembered the bitterness of the feeling as they had eventually admitted it. She might not have known at all had she not seen her little brother Edric with a halfpenny and asked him where he got it, and heard the story of the messenger on the fine horse.
‘They deceived him, for they didn’t want me to leave. She was fine with being married to Thomas, and being now mistress of the house because my father was dead, and showing off about it to the customers, but she didn’t want the bother of looking after the children or running the house – that was for me to do as I was the unwed sister.’
The tears were coming again but she didn’t care. ‘So I asked them straight about what the man had said, and they gave me the letter, saying it didn’t matter now as the messenger was long gone. I took it to Father Eustace and he read it out to me, and I cried and cried.’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘You see, I didn’t know Edwin for very long but I’d been thinking about him ever since he left, wondering if he was thinking about me, and then to find out that he wanted me to marry him … and I’d missed the chance …’ She buried her face in her apron.
Alys felt a touch upon her shoulder and arms about her; Mistress Anne had come to kneel beside her. The older woman made gentle noises and stroked her head until she was steady again. ‘But you didn’t miss your chance, did you? What did you do?’
Alys sniffed hard. ‘I – I had to decide. Was I going to stay there and be their maid for the rest of my life, with them keeping me in service until I was too old to marry anyone else? Was I going to give up on the man I lo— on the man I’d been thinking about? Or was I going to do something?’
Her voice became fierce as she remembered. ‘I remembered Master Theobald came up north this way once a year, so I made an excuse to visit his shop and turned the conversation that way. When I heard he came as far as Conisbrough I spoke to him and his wife. They said they wouldn’t take me, not without Thomas’s permission, so I went back and faced him about it. I told him all that I’d been through while he was keeping himself safe out in the country, I told him that we all owed our lives to Edwin and his friends, and I told him that I was going no matter what he said, even if I had to walk all the way in bare feet and rags.’
‘Good for you, girl.’ William was impressed.
‘Anyway, he caved in like I knew he would eventually, and said to Master Theobald that I could go and that he’d give me some of the bolts of cloth as a dowry.’ She allowed a slightly derisive note to creep in. ‘Not any of the most expensive stuff, of course, for he said I wouldn’t need that out in the country, but I didn’t care. And he wouldn’t have any cloth at all if it hadn’t been for Edwin and his friends.’ She folded her arms.
Mistress Anne surmised the rest. ‘So you set off. Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’
‘I’m sorry for surprising you, mistress, but how could I get a message to you? The only way would have been to send word with Master Theobald as he’s the only one who comes this far, and if I did that and then waited to see if Edwin could get a message back to me, it would have been next year before I could come as Master Theobald only makes his way here for the summer fair.’
The others all looked at each other before Mistress Anne spoke. ‘Well, you’re a brave and resourceful girl. Edwin will only be gone a few days and he’ll be overjoyed to see you when he gets back.’
Cecily nodded her agreement and William grunted, lifting his cup. ‘And it will be good to see the lad happy for a change.’ He raised the cup in salute. ‘Here’s to a wedding before the month is out.’
Martin had been extremely glad when the monks’ reading was over. The thought that they did this every day was almost too much. He’d kicked his heels around a bit while Edwin was seeing the abbot – he considered going to see Benedict in the nearby infirmary but he thought better of getting into another argument with Brother Durand.
Eventually Edwin had emerged, and he’d been very quiet ever since. Martin wondered what they could have been talking about – well, he had a fair idea, obviously, but he had no idea why it should have affected Edwin so deeply.
He clouted his friend on the shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s go out and find that cave again.
A bit of air and a walk will do you good.’
Edwin rubbed his shoulder, muttered something under his breath that might have been agreement and might not, and they set off to the gatehouse. Once they had waited what seemed like an hour for the ancient brother to dodder his way into opening the small wicket-gate, and stepped through it, Martin looked about him. ‘I think we might be better off trying to find it by retracing the steps we took to get back last time. If we try to go through the woods without following that woman then we’re bound to get lost. What do you think?’
‘All right. It was this way, wasn’t it?’ Edwin gestured off to his right and Martin agreed.
‘Yes. All we have to do is follow the cliff around.’
Martin didn’t like walking – his boots were always too small and they hurt his feet – but there was no point bringing the horses into such terrain. And there wouldn’t be anywhere to tether them outside the cave anyway. So they made their way on foot over to the edge of the white face which soared high above their heads and began to walk next to it. Their path took them through some undergrowth and then through a bit where the forest came right up to the edge of the stone and they had to push their way through. Martin remembered all this from their journey back last time, so he was confident they were heading in the right direction, although of course it all looked a bit different when you were going the other way.
After some time they reached a space where there was more open ground around the cliff, and the edge of the forest was some way off across scrubland. Martin slowed and then stopped. ‘It’s around here somewhere.’
Edwin gazed around. ‘Yes,’ he said vaguely. He still looked distracted.
‘So, what did you talk about with the abbot?’ There was no point in beating around it – he may as well ask straight out.
Edwin looked at him sharply. ‘About Brother Alexander, of course. What else would we have been talking about?’
There was something in his face which Martin didn’t quite understand. ‘I don’t know. It’s just that you seem … you look like you’re thinking about something else.’
‘I’ve got a lot to think about, that’s all. Anyway, are we going to look for this cave or not?’ He reached out to touch the rock face and began to feel his way along it. Martin joined him, running his fingers along the white stone.
It was surprisingly difficult to find. They had almost given up when Martin fell into it almost by accident. ‘Here.’
Edwin was about to go inside, but Martin had spotted something and pulled him back. ‘Wait.’
‘Why?’
Martin crouched down and edged his way through the fissure in the rock, banging his elbow as he did so. Inside he moved so that what light there was struck the floor. ‘I think someone else has been here.’
Edwin’s head appeared. ‘How do you know?’
‘I don’t know, exactly, but look – did we scrape the floor this much?’ He touched the sandy surface lightly.
‘Maybe we did? I mean, we did both walk round a bit and then drag that bag and that broken box out.’
Martin wasn’t convinced. ‘Well, let’s get it out again and see what we can find.’ He crawled to the very back of the space and reached his arm forward until he felt wood. ‘Here, I’ll pass it out to you.’
Piece by piece, he pulled out the broken crate, and then the canvas bag. Then he leant as far forward as he could, patting around and hoping nothing was lurking in there which might bite him, and felt something soft – more fabric? ‘There’s something else here.’
‘There can’t be.’ Edwin knelt beside him.
‘Well …’ Martin grabbed a handful and dragged it out. ‘What’s this then?’
It was a rolled-up ball of some kind of cloth.
‘It’s too dark to see it properly in here,’ said Edwin. ‘Let’s take everything outside.’
Once they got out into the light, Martin looked first at the pieces of the box and the bag. ‘That’s what you found the other day.’
‘Yes.’
Martin rearranged some of the bits on the ground. ‘Well, judging by the size of it, the crate wasn’t all that big, and it would have fitted in the bag. So that maybe tallies with the idea of Brother Alexander bringing back “treasure” – it needn’t have been of any great size. It could have been bags of gold or jewels or something.’
Edwin didn’t look convinced. ‘Perhaps.’ He pointed at the thing Martin still held in his hand. ‘But what’s that? That definitely wasn’t here the other day.’
‘Are you sure? It was right at the back behind the other stuff.’
‘I’m sure. I went in as far as I could and felt around on the ground, and it was empty after we’d got the rest of it out.’
Martin put it down on the ground and knelt to unroll it. It was wool, just a length of unbleached woven wool. No, wait, there was stitching there. It wasn’t just a length – it was a shape which was sewn together out of several pieces, and another separate bit. He stretched it out and then sat back in shock, for there was no doubt that what they were looking at was a white robe and hood, the clothing of a choir monk.
Chapter Ten
Edwin looked at the robe on the ground before him. ‘Do you know what this means?’
‘Yes, or at least, I think so.’
‘You do?’
‘Well, surely the explanation is that one of the monks has run away. He’s come here, changed out of his robes into something else, and made off. And if he was here, in this cave, then he must know something about Brother Alexander, so he’s likely to be the man who killed him. So all we have to do is track him down and catch him!’
Martin started to stand and Edwin admired his confidence, his enthusiasm; he looked like he would happily chase after his missing man right now, on foot and with no idea where he was going. ‘Wait, wait.’ He waved his arm and Martin sat back down.
‘What?’
‘There is another explanation.’
‘Is there?’
‘Yes.’ Edwin sighed. ‘And it’s not one I like, but I think it’s more probable.’
‘What?’
‘Well, what if someone wasn’t trying to get out of the abbey? What if they were trying to get in?’
Martin looked puzzled. ‘Why would anyone want to do that?’
‘We’ve both said, over and over again, how difficult it is to tell one monk from another in their robes. And it’s especially difficult when they’ve got their hoods up. So, if you wanted to get in the abbey and walk around unnoticed, all you’d really need to do is to put on a robe and put the hood up, and nobody would give you a second glance.’ He looked at Martin who was showing glimmerings of understanding. ‘It wouldn’t work in the long term, of course, as they’d soon notice an imposter at night, or even at one of the services, but if you wanted to slip in when the place was busy, do something and then slip out again, you could.’
Martin spoke slowly. ‘And if the thing you wanted to do was to murder one of the brothers …’
Edwin nodded. ‘Especially when they were all sat at their reading – sixty or so of them, all in their robes. They’d notice if somebody dressed differently came in, but who would pay attention to another white monk in the cloister?’
Martin whistled. ‘So that’s how it was done?’
‘It’s a possibility. But the main thing,’ said Edwin, his heart becoming heavier by the moment, ‘is that it could have been anyone. There I was just thinking that we’d narrowed it down to the choir monks, but with this robe our pool of potential killers has just widened to include all the lay brothers, the visitors, and every man in the village.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, quite. Look, I need to think. Let’s take all this back to the abbey and then I’ll find somewhere to sit for a while, while I try to get a few things straight and work on what we’re going to do next.’
‘All right.’ Martin began to gather the broken pieces of the box together. He put them in the bag, and then rolled up the
robe and hood and stowed them on top. The bag was old and full of holes, and Edwin wondered whether it would survive its loaded journey.
It was early evening by the time they reached the abbey again, and the monks and lay brothers were returning from their afternoon’s labours. Edwin asked Martin to take the bag and store it in the guesthouse for now. He himself needed to find a quiet space in which to think: he first considered the church but then realised that the brothers would soon be on their way in for vespers. But that in itself gave him an idea, so he wound his way around the precinct until he came to Brother Helias’s office.
This was as much an atmosphere of home as he was likely to get, so he placed a stool against the wall and leaned back. He could be fairly confident of having the place to himself almost until dusk, for the monks would go from vespers to their evening meal and then probably straight to compline without returning to their places of work. And if Brother Helias should by any chance come back in between, Edwin would be able to explain why he was there. The cellarer wouldn’t mind.
Edwin breathed in the scent of spices and closed his eyes.
He tried to visualise the figure of Brother Alexander, but the nearest he could get was a tall, shadowy figure in a white robe, whose face he could not see. Who would want to kill you? thought Edwin, but the figure did not speak. So, who might have wanted the master of the lay brothers dead? The novice Benedict was critical of his previous involvement with heathen masters and teachers – fanatical, even. And his own behaviour showed him to be unstable. But would this have led him to murder a brother, a professed monk? Surely even he could see that this would be against the Rule of the Order he so desperately wanted to join, against the will of God, and that it would send him to hell. Or was he so far gone in his hatred that he didn’t care? Did he see Brother Alexander as a heathen himself, and thus worthy only of death, as Martin had noted so dismissively?
