Lissa’s response could be seen but her replies were inaudible. A darting glance at her husband made her put a warning hand on John’s sleeve. She rose to her feet and announced to the diners at large, ‘I must see my dear old owl to his bed.’
Shaking Simon by the shoulder she caused him to splutter into wakefulness. ‘Wha...? Oh my dear one, was I asleep? Did I snore?’ He laughed in a jovial, unselfconscious way and struggled to his feet. ‘Are we leaving, my little bird?’ His glance took in the faces turned to him. ‘Such pleasant company, so kind, so welcome. Goodnight, my dear friends, all’s well and all be well with you.’
Leaning on Lissa and with the aid of his stick, he allowed his wife to usher him away.
Mistress Sour took the opportunity to tweak John’s sleeve, distracting him from the sight of the voluptuous figure of his supper partner as Lissa turned, one hand lifting her weight of flame-coloured hair, the other giving him a little wave. Her frown when she saw Mistress Sour vying for his attention was not pleasant to behold. Clearly she did not like rivals.
Hildegard felt only gladness that she was beyond the distractions of desire and its jealousies.
Gregory had noticed this scene enacted between Master John and Mistress Lissa. He shook his head.
As it was time to look in on Abbot de Courcy to say their goodnights the three of them strolled across the garth together. The two monks went up the steps into the infirmary and just as Hildegard was about to follow she heard someone panting up behind her, calling her name. When she turned she saw Mistress Sweet. She was alone.
‘Forgive me, domina, but I understand you’re interested in the strange death of the monk on the St Marie?’
‘Who could not be,’ Hildegard replied.
‘I have something to tell you.’
‘Oh?’
‘For sixpence.’ Mistress Sweet’s pert smile had no expectation of a negative answer and she held out her palm.
‘How do I know it’s anything I care to hear?’
The young woman frowned. ‘You will, I assure you. But sixpence is what it costs.’
‘A penny.’
‘Threepence,’ the retort came back quick as a shot.
‘Very well.’ Hildegard dug a hand into her scrip and handed over a coin.
Inviting her a little to one side Mistress Sweet said. ‘I knew I’d seen Delith before and then I placed her. She’s no more a widow than Abbot Philip. She’s known in Hampton though. I’ve seen her plying her trade. She was set up in a house on the quayside by a pimp called Lionel. You’ve seen him. He’s the fellow who arrived here on the night of the storm. They pretend not to know each other but don’t be taken in. They’re up to something.’
‘I might ask for the return of my threepenny bit. I know all this.’
‘But you may not know all. She is trying to sell something.’
‘I thought you said that was her trade?’
‘Something else. Something she has stolen from the ship. She offered it to Lionel but would not tell him anything about it but only stated her price. Then she offered it to my sister who of course is too astute to pay good money without seeing what she’s getting for it.’
‘Is this the book that’s gone missing?’
Mistress Sweet shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with books. She says it’s something all king’s will desire. More than that she will not say.’
‘Why doesn’t she try it with kings then?’
Mistress Sweet laughed this to scorn. ‘She’s as much chance of getting near a king or even a shire knight as flying to the moon. She’s trying us first with the promise that we’ll be able to make back our money one hundred times over.’
‘I am still in my rights to ask for the return of my threepence. All you’ve told me is that some unfortunate woman is trying to make a living without going back onto the streets of Hampton. Any fool could see she is trying to escape that life.’
The girl at once flew into a rage. ‘Take it like that then! Poor woman? The greatest harlot in Hampton? You’re carrying compassion too far, domina, if indeed you are a nun. Huh!’
She gave a flounce and was about to go off when Hildegard said, ‘If you can find out what she’s offering for sale I’ll give you a shilling. I need facts though, not a tall story or aspersions about someone’s virtue.’
She turned off into the infirmary and left Mistress Sweet gaping after her.
‘So Lionel has refused to buy, the sisters are circumspect... ’
‘And none of them have any idea what it is?’
‘I’m merely sorry I didn’t learn more for my threepence. I knew all this before she told me – but at least she’ll dig for us in the hope of a shilling.’
Hubert looked smug. ‘While you folk have been scratching around I’ve had the upper hand for once. I’ve been lying here royally entertained. That young lay-brother, the one who tends Mistress Beata so assiduously has been showing her how to juggle. He would have had me doing it if I hadn’t resisted.’
‘When was this?’
‘Between nones and vespers. He returned just before Compline, wet through, as if he’d been for a swim, and dripping water all along the tiles. Beata scolded him as if she were his own mother so he scurried round with a cloth to wipe it up.’
‘It’s not the mystery you seem to think it, Hubert.’ Hildegard explained. ‘He’s been into the upper sluice to try to unblock it. They had to choose a smaller lad who could crawl inside the pipe. I don’t think he’s been any more successful though.’ She remembered her pastry and took it from her sleeve. ‘Would you like it?’ She offered it round and it was split three ways, Hildegard herself declining a piece with her mind on other things.
As Egbert and Gregory got up to go in order to give Hildegard and Hubert some time alone to discuss matters of mutual interest they agreed that the mystery of Brother Martin’s extraordinary death had been solved. There was no crime. He had opened a poisoned casket from Outremer and suffered the accidental and fatal consequences of so doing. If there had also been a theft then it was of a book of doubtful value that, for all they knew, now lay at the bottom of Southampton Water. The theft of anything of greater worth only existed in the mind of Delith wherever she now was.
‘All this,’ Hildegard agreed, ‘and yet...’ She could not mention Hywel’s face in the moonlight. It was too glancing, too vague and personal, too fanciful, and probably came down to nothing more significant than a trick of the light.
They talked things over for a while. It had been a strangely exhausting day, what with the endless heat, the sun beating down without let, and the coming and going of new people about the place, and then that argument between John, usually so sanguine, but acting like a raging monster against the cold hatred of Hywel as they fought a verbal battle in the sacristy. What had it been about? Nothing much, as far as she could see. A missing book that nobody but Hywel really wanted for itself.
Hubert looked thoughtful after this but it might have been tiredness. He said it was more tiring lying on the bed with his leg encased in the Roman contraption than if he’d had a day’s hawking or ridden his horse at full gallop across the Dales.
‘When shall we see the sweet green hills of home, Hildegard?’
‘Soon, I hope.’ She kissed him goodnight and went out into the moonlit garth.
It was almost too hot to think of going up to her stifling chamber. It was late now but the air bore down like heat from a blast furnace. The moon rode rapidly through the sky with nothing to obscure its brilliance. Spread across the heavens was an endless field of stars. They seemed so close she could imagine reaching up to pull one down.
In the steady and uncanny light she made her way across the garth towards the guest house and as she did so she had to pass the kitchens. Sounds of activity within made her put her head inside to say goodnight but then she stopped.
The little kitchen lad was standing on a table, wet from head to foot, his face made wetter by his tears. He was sobbing and a group
of them were trying to console him.
‘It was dark, my chick, it only looked like something horrible. It will be some weed caught on a rock and you’ll laugh at this in the morning.’
‘We use this sluice every day to trap our fish for table,’ the kitchener’s assistant broke in. ‘They swim freely and happily, without restraint, all the way from a deep and beautiful lake far inland simply to reach us here.’
‘It was horrible!’ the lad cried on a rising note. ‘I tell you! I’m not going down there again!’
‘Listen, we’ll wait until morning. It was a dull-witted idea to light torches and send you down. Those shadows,’ the assistant kitchener faked a shiver, ‘leaping and leering, they make me think of monsters even now, standing here with you lot.’
‘That don’t take much imagination, Ced. Have you looked in a mirror lately?’
The small lad stamped his feet. ‘Set me down. I’m not going in there again. No matter how bright the day.’
Exasperated glances passed around the group. ‘All right,’ agreed the kitchener, ‘We’ll find somebody as small as you but with a braver heart who would like a penny for his courage.’
‘I never said I wouldn’t like a penny,’ the small boy said in a startled tone.
‘Let’s see how you feel after Prime, hey?’
The assistant lifted him down and swung him round. ‘Off out! Go on! To bed, you little mongrel!’
As he raced outside before they changed their minds, Hildegard continued on her way to bed to snatch a few hours sleep before Matins.
About to open the door at the bottom of the back stairs leading up to her chamber Hildegard caught sight of a movement in the shadows near the corner of the building. The cresset, guttering in its iron sconce on the wall, dazzled her for a moment and she stepped away from the light so she could look into the darkness.
The cloisters were deserted. The windows of the guest quarters were shuttered. Only in the kitchens on the far side of the garth would there be any aid.
‘Who’s there?’ she demanded in a firm voice.
A shift of movement drew her attention but in a second the knife from her sleeve was in her hand. She asked again, ‘Who is it? Show yourself!’
A figure loomed from the shadows as she brought up the blade.
A muffled shout protested, ‘No! No, domina! It’s me!’
‘Who?’ She peered into the shadows. ‘Who is it?’
Something shifted in the borrowed light and, detecting something familiar in the voice, she asked, ‘Is that you, Alaric?’
‘I must speak to you, domina. I’m in a fix.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve committed a sin and must speak to you.’
He emerged from the shadows, taller than she was, but slight and trembling, with the aspect of someone ready for rejection.
He dropped to one knee. ‘I beg your indulgence.’
‘Get up, Alaric,’ she spoke with gentleness, ‘Shouldn’t you go to your confessor?’
‘I can’t. I need to speak to you first.’ He rose to his feet. ‘It is something he will not wish to hear.’
Alarmed, she said, ‘We can’t stand outside in the open to talk. Come inside where it’s private.’ She remembered the small chamber on the ground floor where Glyn Dwr had been staying and guessed it might be vacant now.
Hurrying Alaric along the corridor she pushed open the door into the pitch black chamber. Not a sound came from within. Remembering Glyn Dwr’s hand moving slowly towards his knife when she had barged in on him she felt rapidly along the ledge beside the door for the tinder, found it, struck a spark, held it to the wick of the candle and lifted it high. Light ran like liquid into the corners of the chamber.
It was empty.
She turned to Alaric. ‘Well?’
He closed the door. In the candle glow his eyes looked enormous but expressed a certain abject fear. ‘I’ve committed a sin,’ he began, ‘I’ve told a most grievous lie.’ His lips trembled as he glanced towards the door. Lowering his voice, he said, ‘I’ve stolen something. But I did it without knowledge of what I was doing – ’ He broke off. ‘I had no idea what I was doing, domina.’
‘It can be no sin if it was done without the will to sin. Tell me what you stole.’ She felt she already knew.
He found it difficult to continue. With a struggle he admitted, ‘I’m living in fear for my soul. You saw how frightened Jankin was when Hywel accused him of the theft of a mouse?’
‘Is it something stolen from the friar?’
‘It’s the book he sent for,’ he confirmed her suspicion. ‘The loss of it is turning him into a monster.’
‘Come now – ’
‘He said he would put a curse forever on anyone who stole from him. I thought he meant petty thefts of his cures and instruments and especially he feared to lose his astrolabe, it’s irreplaceable. But so is what I stole. Now I can’t stop thinking about what he might do if he finds out who took it.’
Hildegard remembered the demonic expression on Hywel’s face in the moonlight and felt some fear on Alaric’s behalf. She took him by the arm. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘And will you help me, domina, if I tell you the truth?’
‘I will help however I am able.’
Taking that as enough reassurance Alaric stood in the glow of the candle light and braced himself to confess. She could see every nuance of the changing emotions that flickered across his face and his eyes wide with fear.
‘I have been taken under the wing of Mistress Beata,’ he began. ‘I will say nothing against her. I am pleased to serve her and she has my loyalty.’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Her husband treats her with cruel disregard in the full knowledge that she has little time left on earth. When she was younger and more active she took a full part in what she calls his ‘dealings’ – this was when he was a figure in the City of London. You may not know that?’ he broke off to give Hildegard a searching glance.
‘We did suspect as much.’
‘Then you may know he’s John of Nottingham, one of the city merchants in fealty to Prince Thomas of Woodstock, the new duke of Gloucester. When Master John was banished from the City it was decreed that he could not go within eighty miles of it on pain of death. And he is here!’
‘Go on.’
‘He owns the ship for which the pilgrims wait. Mistress Beata says she knows his mind and his business better than the back of her own hands.’ His lips lifted in an involuntary smile. ‘She may be at death’s door but her spirit is as robust as any.’
‘Did she ask you to do something for her?’
‘She asked me to get hold of a special book her husband was bringing in for the abbot. She said it had been her idea to get it and that if her husband wanted it to complete his deal with the abbot he would have to pay her the market price once she had it in her possession as it was hers by right.’
‘But the brothers look after her well, what would she want with money at this stage of her life?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s a merchant’s wife, domina, she knows the price of things. She said he would pay a good price for it if he had any sense – which she was beginning to doubt.’ A vestige of his old carefree smile returned but quickly faded.
‘So in effect she wants –’ she corrected herself, ‘she wanted to get hold of the book to keep it as a hostage to fortune?’
He gave Hildegard a beseeching look. ‘I failed to ask her more. It seemed unkind to probe into her motives. She did say she had stood by her husband through thick and thin and was now being denied her reward for her fidelity.’ He shrugged as if he didn’t understand such things. ‘I have myself seen how ill-used she is and it seemed just to help her right the balance against him. Maybe,’ he added, ‘that was my first mistake, the one that set me on the road to hell.’
‘I saw you climbing aboard the St Marie,’ Hildegard told him with a certain sharpness in her tone. ‘Is that when you stole it?’ There was no point in beating about the bu
sh.
‘She urged me to go on board before anyone else thought of it. I knew what to look for. She described the little wooden casket it was in and told me that on no account was I to open it. At that point I had little idea what was inside. She said it was a book but I suppose I believed that it also held jewels, something of that nature. The sort of thing people like to possess.’ He gave her a quick glance to make sure she was following.
‘Go on.’
‘Imagine my horror when I finally got on board and managed to find the hold without being seen only to discover Brother Martin lying in that grotesque manner with the casket open and its contents gone! It was a nightmare scene, the storm raging, the fire, flames billowing in fury over the deck, the crew screaming to be saved, not daring to jump overboard out of fear at being swept away on the tide, and the body of poor Brother Martin distorted with pain – ’ Tears filled his eyes. ‘Afterwards, when I knew what was in the casket, I realised that Abbot Philip must have been anxious to get his hands on the book and, having lost patience while the ship lay at anchor, sent Brother Martin to fetch it. He failed and met his death. But then, in all this horror, with the little casket empty, where was this precious object?’
‘What did you do?’
‘Like an angel answering me, the rains started to fall in torrents and as I was crawling back over the deck to climb down into my boat again I found a book, just thrown aside, and you know how desperately I want to read and how precious books are to me, so without any more thought I picked it up and jumped into the boat with it.’
‘What did you do when you came ashore?’
‘I took it straight to Mistress Beata. I said, “I don’t suppose this is what you want?” You should have seen her face when she saw it. “My dear boy!” she exclaimed, “You are an angel from heaven!” Then she asked me to hide it somewhere.’
‘And then what?’
‘I did as she asked, naturally. I realized that it was probably dangerous to have it in my possession. How dangerous was confirmed by what happened next.’
The Alchemist of Netley Abbey: Eighth in the Hildegard of Meaux medieval mystery series Page 22
