“Neither can be laid at your door.”
“Both afflictions can.”
“No, Alwin.”
“I have known death in life,” said the other. “And I have deserved it.” He wheezed again. “There is nothing to keep me in this world save the wish to see that murderous villain caught.
Philippe, with his knowing smile. When that is done, I will follow Bertha to a quieter place.” One hand flickered in a gesture of great pathos. “Please, Master Bret. Avenge my daughter. And you will ease my son’s mind.”
Canon Hubert rode slowly along the busy street on his donkey.
The animal was in a fractious mood and kept trying to turn down lanes and alleyways. He had to pull hard on its reins to control its wayward impulses. He swung right into King Street and studied the houses carefully until he came to the one he wanted. It was a timber-framed dwelling of medium size in an excellent state of repair and with fresh thatch on its low roof. The neighbouring houses looked almost neglected by comparison.
Hauling his donkey to a halt, Canon Hubert dismounted and tethered the creature to an iron ring set in the wall of the house.
He tapped meekly on the door, then put both hands inside the opposite sleeves. When the servant answered the door, all he saw was the inclined head of a hooded monk.
“I wish to speak with Helto the Doctor,” said Hubert.
“He is not at home.”
“I will wait within.”
“He will not be back for a long time.”
“However long, I will still wait. Stand aside.”
“No,” said the servant, barring the way. “I cannot let you in.”
“Then I will let myself in!”
The hood was flipped back and Canon Hubert was transformed into Ralph Delchard. One hand came out to push the servant hard in the chest while the other appeared with a long dagger in it. Ralph darted into the house and shut the door behind him.
The servant was sturdy and he launched himself at the newcomer but his visitor was far too skilled in the arts of combat.
Ralph chopped him across the throat with a forearm and brought a knee up into the man’s stomach. All the fight was taken out of him. Before he could slump to the ground, Ralph caught him with one hand and heaved him hard against the wall. There was a thunderous crack as a skull met a thick oak beam. The servant dropped to the floor with a thud. Not even his master would be able to revive him for a while.
The commotion had alerted another man and he was a more dangerous opponent. When he came down to the stairs to investigate the noise, he was carrying a dagger himself. Ralph stepped into the parlour to give himself more room for manoeuvre.
Encumbered by the cowl, he circled his man warily.
“Who are you?” growled the other.
“Canon Hubert,” said Ralph. “I’ve come to shrive you.”
“Then I confess I’ll have to kill you!”
The man lunged at him with the dagger but Ralph parried him with ease. A second lunge was parried with equal adroitness.
The man feinted and caught Ralph unawares. The dagger sliced through the arm of the cowl but made no contact with Ralph himself. His attacker did not know that. When Ralph mimed a wound and staggered back, the man was after him in a flash, only to find his own weapon slashed from his grasp by a downward stroke of Ralph’s blade across his wrist. A kick sent the man to the ground where he lay howling, one hand trying to stem the flow of blood from his injured wrist.
Ralph was astride him with a dagger at his throat.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded.
“Who?”
“Golde. My wife. I know she is here.”
“No!”
“Where is she?”
“Not here!” said the man. “You are mistaken. This is the house of Helto the Doctor.”
“Are his patients always welcomed with a dagger?”
“You attacked first.”
“Where is she?” yelled Ralph, using the point of his weapon to draw blood from the man’s neck. “Speak or I’ll cut your throat out.”
“Stop!” pleaded the other, giving in. “I’ll tell you.”
Ralph grabbed his hair to bang his head on the floor.
“Where?”
“Down the cellar. In the kitchen.”
The man was too frightened to lie. Ralph pounded his head on the hard wood again, then got up. He searched the ground floor until he found the kitchen, then saw the trap door in the corner.
Before he could slide back the bolt, he heard a rustling noise and turned to see his adversary coming at him with the dagger in his other hand.
Ralph’s reaction was instinctive. He moved sharply to the left, parried the blow, swung in a circle and brought his own dagger around with deadly force to slide in between the man’s ribs. After clinging to the cowl for a moment, the man slid to the ground with blood pouring out of the wound. Ralph retrieved his weapon and opened the trap door. It shed enough light for him to see her.
“Golde! What have they done to you!”
Unable to answer, she struggled from side to side.
He leaped down into the cellar and sliced through her bonds at once, clasping her in his arms and holding her to him. The sheer relief of being together again brought tears cascading down his face. Golde clutched at the blindfold then tore off the gag.
“Thank God you’ve come!” she sobbed. “They were going to kill me. It was terrifying.”
He held her tight and they kissed away a long and frightening absence. Then he guided her gently up the stairs. It was only when they came up into full light that she saw what he was wearing. Her sudden laugh broke the tension.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
“From Canon Hubert.”
“He loaned it to you?”
“Cowl and donkey,” said Ralph, grinning. “Not without a lot of argument, mark you, but the disguise worked. If he can pass as a monk, then so can I.”
“He?”
“Philippe Berbizier, my love. The man we are after.”
“I think I met him.”
The memory sent a shiver through her. Golde then noticed the dead man on the ground and let out a cry.
“Is that him?” she asked.
“No, my love. My guess is that he is one of the men who kidnapped you. The other is lying through there with a lump on his head.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“By talking to Eadgyth.”
“She told you?”
“No, Golde. But when I stepped out of her room, I heard Canon Hubert speaking with Osbern in the solar. Their words were as clear as a bell. Someone on that staircase could spy on the whole house.”
“But why should they?”
“To know what steps Gervase and I were taking.”
“I do not follow, Ralph.”
“How did Berbizier know you were in that house? How did he know what my movements were? Who helped him to outwit me at every turn? Helto.”
“The doctor?”
“No wonder he called so often without need,” said Ralph. “On his last visit, he even left your wimple in the stables with a letter for me. It had to be him. Nobody else came to Osbern’s abode on a horse.”
Golde began to understand. “Is that where we are now?”
“Yes, my love. In Helto’s house.”
“I have been in King Street all this time?”
“Not five minutes from us.”
Still dazed by her ordeal, she looked slowly around.
“Then where is the doctor himself?”
She gave herself completely. Lying between her thighs, Helto plunged and writhed until his breath was laboured and the perspiration was running down his naked back. He strove on until his passion was spent, then he sagged across her with a long sigh of contentment and fatigue. The girl held him tight until he was ready to roll off her. Without a word, she put on her apparel, then knelt beside the bed. Helto reached out to touch her cheek with an
off-hand affection. When she left the room, he lay there to recover and to savour.
Wearing his white robe, he came silently into the chamber. He looked down at his disciple with a dark smile.
“Was she ready for you?”
“Yes,” said Helto, still short of breath.
“And you were ready for her,” said Berbizier. “As I promised.
That is the essence of our sect, Helto. Choosing the right person, preparing her mind, opening her body to the joys of spiritual love. You have now shared in those joys.”
“I have,” agreed the other, sitting up to reach for his clothing.
“Thank you, Philippe.”
“You have earned the reward.”
“I have tried to serve you loyally.”
“Loyally and devotedly,” said Berbizier, watching him dress.
“Without you, none of this would have been possible. You have been my faithful intelligencer, working inside the city to provide everything that I need.”
“Nothing is more important to me, Philippe.”
“You found this place of safety for our temple. You helped to choose our neophytes. And-I will be eternally grateful to you for this, Helto-you carried my messages to that sweet, dear girl, Bertha.” He gave a sigh of regret. “Such a pity that she could never be initiated into our circle. Bertha was too corrupted by Christianity. So many falsehoods locked inside that beautiful head of hers. If only she had let me open her eyes to the true light.”
“Yes.” The doctor grinned to himself. “I would have enjoyed teaching Bertha the precepts of our sect.”
“No!” snapped the other. “Bertha was mine. All mine.”
“Of course,” said Helto quickly.
“Nobody else would have touched her. And now nobody else can.” He became brisk. “Was everything in order when you left the house?”
“Yes, Philippe.”
“Our little bird safely caged in the cellar?”
“They will never find her there.”
“Then we can forget her until the morning. You may spend the night here, Helto.” The doctor’s face lit up. “It is another reward for your dedication.”
“The new girl?”
“I have prepared her very carefully.”
“She is mine all night, Philippe?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes,” said Berbizier. “She is yours but both of you belong to me. Do not forget that. Come, my friend. They are waiting to begin the service. I will preach and there will be laying-on of hands. Beyond that, a long night beckons. With nobody to interrupt our spiritual pleasures.”
“Are you quite sure that he will come?” said Ralph Delchard.
“No,” admitted Gervase.
“Then what are we doing out here?”
“Obeying instinct, Ralph.”
“My instinct is to be in bed with my wife at this hour of the night. Not hiding in the bushes on Harbledown Hill. There are all kinds of animals sniffing about in the dark. Not to mention the danger of snakes!”
“It is the snakes that we are after. Those that walk on two legs. Reinbald the Priest will lead us to them.”
“If he deigns to leave the city.”
“He will,” said Gervase confidently. “He sneaked past the guards last night. Only the most urgent appointment could make him do that. I think he was going to a secret meeting of Philippe Berbizier’s sect.”
“A parish priest!”
“That is how heresy spreads, Ralph. From clergy to laity. Do not forget that Berbizier himself was once a priest. They subvert the Christian beliefs that they once embraced and taught.”
The two men had been there since nightfall. It had taken Gervase a long time to persuade Ralph to join him on the expedition. Two of Ralph’s men-at-arms had been left at the house in Burgate Street to protect Golde against any further attack and four others had been installed in Helto’s house to arrest the doctor on his return. They were standing near the spot where Alain had been when Reinbald went past on the previous night.
Evidently it was the priest’s route. Gervase believed that he took it regularly.
“Have you forgotten your trip to Faversham?” he said.
“No man could forget the termagant Juliana.”
“Was not Helto eager to be your guide?”
“Very eager. Even though he is a poor horseman.”
“And did he not disappear in Faversham?”
“Only for an hour,” said Ralph. “We found him at the church.
He said that he had been to visit the priest.”
“What if his name was Philippe Berbizier?”
Ralph pondered. “It is conceivable,” he said at length.
“That might account for his readiness to visit Faversham.
But it will not bring him out here tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Berbizier is still in the city.”
“No, Ralph.”
“He is. Golde swears that she met him. Guards are waiting in numbers at every gate. How could Berbizier possibly get out of Canterbury?”
“How could Reinbald the Priest?”
A long whistle terminated their conversation and sent them crouching in the bushes. Six of Ralph’s men-at-arms had been stationed at intervals on Harbledown Hill to keep watch for a lone figure leaving the city. The signal confirmed the approach of someone. Ralph and Gervase had to wait five minutes before the man came past. There was no doubting his identity. Reinbald the Priest was following a route he knew by heart. Descending the hill on the far side, he was so intent on reaching his destination that he never thought to look over his shoulder.
Ralph and Gervase tracked him on foot. The soldiers were not far behind, riding their own horses and leading two more by the reins. Reinbald was running now and the two friends had to break into a trot to keep him in sight. The priest suddenly veered off to the left down a narrow path between the trees. Ralph and Gervase paused. A lantern glimmered up ahead of them. Creeping nearer, they could make out the shape of a small cottage. Light showed through the cracks in the shutters. Gervase was excited by the discovery. The priest had indeed led them to Berbizier.
Revenge was uppermost in Ralph’s mind. Heresy was no concern of his. Berbizier had ordered Golde’s kidnap. That rankled even more than his other crimes. Ralph took charge with cold-eyed efficiency. Beckoning his men with a wave, he made them tether the horses, then fan out to approach the cottage in order to surround it. He and Gervase moved furtively toward the front of the building. When everyone was in position, Ralph went into action.
Tucking in his shoulder, Ralph heaved himself at the door with such force that it burst open on its hinges. He was through it at once, pulling out his sword and yelling at the top of his voice. Gervase and the others followed but they found no members of a heretical sect. Reinbald the Priest had his arms around a young woman, who was screaming in fear. The intruders gaped.
Reinbald made a nervous and shamefaced confession.
“Do not harm us, my lord. This is my wife.”
Alain sat in the porch with his back against the church door.
Unable to sleep in the cloying warmth of his hut, he had come out in search of a cooler spot to sit and to reflect. The commotion earlier in the day had been succeeded by a deep and restorative calm. Prior Henry and his congregation of monks had exorcised the church and driven out the spirit of evil. The leper hospital was at peace again.
He could never share in that peace. The loss of Bertha could not be repaired by a service conducted by the prior. Nothing could drive out the devil who was eating Alain’s flesh from the inside and gnawing at his mind. Life was pain. Memory was his only balm. Bertha would continue to gather herbs to sweeten his moments alone.
The jingle of harness made him stand up. Eight riders were coming his way. They reined in close by and one of them jumped down and walked toward the wattle huts. Recognising Gervase from his profile and gait, Alain hailed him. Gervase trotted across to the church, relieved to find th
at he did not have to rouse the leper from his sleep.
“We need your help, Alain,” he said.
“What could I possibly do?”
“Lead us to the orchard where you found that piece of material.
It was torn from Bertha’s apparel. I matched it to her kirtle.
Bertha was there.”
“Why?”
“Assist us and we may find out.”
“In the dark?”
“It is not the orchard that interests us,” explained Gervase,
“but the house beyond. Will you take us there?”
“I have no reason.”
“This is no casual request, Alain.”
“I would rather stay here at the hospital.”
“Bertha’s killer is in that house.”
The leper was stunned. “I’ll take you at once, Master Bret,” he volunteered. “But it is a mile or more and my pace is slow. You will have to be patient with me.”
“Ride my horse.”
“You do not mind?”
“Nor more will he, Alain,” said Gervase. “We need to get there as soon as possible. Lead the way.”
The men-at-arms backed away when they saw the leper coming and they were amazed when Gervase actually helped him up into the saddle. When they set off in single file, fear of infection kept the soldiers several yards behind their pathfinder. Ralph, too, had severe reservations about using a leper as their guide.
Gervase was seated behind Ralph on his destrier, as they moved along the path at a steady trot.
“This is another wild-goose chase,” hissed Ralph.
“Trust me, it is not,” said Gervase.
“I do not want to lead an assault on another house to find that our only prisoners are a priest and his wife.”
“Clerical marriage is forbidden. That is why Reinbald had to keep it secret. The archbishop has insisted on a celibate clergy.
If he knew the truth, he would throw poor Reinbald out of St.
Mildred’s and eject the priest who married them privily from his little church in Faversham. Besides,” said Gervase, as a branch brushed the side of his face, “the raid was not in vain. We learned much.”
“Yes,” conceded Ralph. “We learned that Reinbald has a comely wife. No wonder he risked his neck to reach her.”
“He told us of the man he saw at midnight, riding by a different way to the manor house ahead of us. Reinbald also told us who lives there.”
The Serpents of Harbledown d-5 Page 23
