Falconer and the Face of God

by Ian Morson

  Chapter Eighteen

  GOD: In my blessing here I begin

  The first thing in my glory and right:

  Lightness and darkness? I bid both be seen,

  The night in its dark, the day in its light.

  The Fall of Lucifer

  My name is Old Belzibuz, with a story you to tell, Of bolden knights, and maidens fair, and one who's bound for Hell.

  But ere I start this tale of old, intended you to please,

  I ask you all to please sit down and therefore take your ease.’

  The Devil's invitation to settle down to watch the mummers' play was grudgingly obeyed by those in the room. Falconer sat in the central seat of a row the students had placed across the hall facing the backcloth of trees. The priests waited until Jehozadok, Deulegard and Zerach had chosen their seats to Falconer's right, and then sat on the two chairs furthest to his left. Bullock sat in the only remaining space, between Falconer and the Prior. Two students brought forth candles to light up the end of the hall where Agnes stood, and suddenly the painted trees took on a magical appearance, the flickering of the candlelight making it seem as though they danced in a wind that had sprung up out of nowhere. Into the light stepped Simon dressed as a Crusader knight, a large red cross prominent on his tunic.

  ‘In comes I as bold St George, my glory is to fight.

  I battle sun and moon alike - turn daytime into night.’

  Bullock could feel the Prior fidgeting in his seat, clearly annoyed at wasting his time on such yokel entertainment. The constable put a firm hand on the prelate's arm and smiled grimly into the man's startled face. If Falconer wanted the Prior present for whatever reason, then the Prior would stay put. Bullock turned his gaze calmly back to the troubadours, oblivious of another person who had slipped into the room in the darkness. This was beginning to be fun.

  The old familiar story unfolded, St George becoming enamoured of the King of Egypt's daughter, who in the form of Margaret Peper performed a lithe and acrobatic tumbling dance. This raised Bullock's spirits even more, and brought some discreet cheers from the students who were observing from the back of the hall. Falconer turned a disapproving gaze on them and they immediately quietened down, though Bullock could discern a sparkle in the master's eyes as he looked back at the pretty saltatore. Still, the students could not restrain their disapproval when the Saracen knight, dark of feature, appeared from behind the backcloth and claimed Margaret for himself. He and St George then fought a duel while Margaret looked on. At one point in the ebb and flow of the battle, the Saracen knight retreated towards the darkness to the left side of the backcloth, and St George thrust at him with his wooden sword. A body fell to the ground, and St George claimed his prize. But then there came the cry from the right of the backcloth.

  ‘Not so, bold George, you have not killed me yet.

  You must fight on, I say, Sir Knight, your damsel for to get.’

  The Saracen knight reappeared opposite the spot where his body already apparently lay, and continued the fight. Bullock was mystified but delighted by this excursion from the normal play he remembered from his childhood. More of Falconer's incomprehensible doing, no doubt. After some more extravagant swordplay, the fight did reach its traditional conclusion, and the Saracen knight fell dead to a well-aimed thrust under his arm by St George. The Devil stepped forward to ask if there was a doctor present, who might cure the knight of his ills. Falconer immediately rose from his seat and stepped forward. Something told Bullock that all that had gone before had been leading up to this moment - it had Falconer's love of the histrionic all over it.

  Falconer stepped over the prostrate Robert Kemp, and began to speak.

  'Medicus sum et qui quae quod,

  In corpore hominis - he is dead.'

  The nonsense Latin brought a smile to Falconer's lips, but then he diverged from the scripted words into those of his own devising.

  ‘Unusually I am a doctor who sees,

  Not a Saracen knight but de Askeles.

  Was his killer John Peper, now fled?

  No indeed - de Askeles was already dead.

  It matters not where John is hid,

  We ask, then, who the murder did.’

  Bullock could not suppress a laugh at Falconer's tortured rhymes. A solver of riddles he might be, but a maker of them? Never! Fortunately, Falconer continued without attempting any more verse.

  ‘Prior, when I invited you here I said I would solve the deaths of Brother Adam and de Askeles. I can tell you that the person concerned in at least the latter is in this room now.’

  Outraged protests from all sides were followed by uneasy glances round the room as priest stared at Jew, and the troubadours cast wary looks at each other. Kemp sat up, but stayed where he was at Falconer's feet. A stifled groan came from the back of the room.

  ‘Up to your old tricks, I see.’ The rumbling voice caused everyone to turn in that direction. It was Falconer who introduced the latecomer.

  ‘And I welcome Master Thomas de Cantilupe to our little gathering. Somewhat late, but welcome nevertheless.’

  The ex-Chancellor bowed his head in weary acknowledgement, as though giving Falconer permission to continue.

  ‘Now why do I say that John Peper could not have killed de Askeles, when we all saw him run a sword through his body? Why - because de Askeles was already dead when John ran him through. There was barely any blood on the wounds caused by the sword, and such a cut to a living man would have bled profusely. But there was blood all over the back of the robe de Askeles wore under his costume, and a knife wound to correspond with it. So John Peper was guilty of no crime other than damaging a corpse.’

  Behind Falconer Margaret gave a sob, which seemed to draw the regent master's attention. He strode over to where she stood in the midst of the exotically clad actors.

  'then we must ask who did kill de Askeles, and sit him on the throne to confuse us? Who had a reason to kill him?’

  His piercing blue eyes went from sweating face to sweating face, espying the depth of guilt behind each fagade.

  ‘All of you had good reason to wish de Askeles dead. Simon and Robert, you both blamed de Askeles for the death of your fellow actor in Winchester. Agnes, you admitted you could and would kill him because of how he treated you. And you find it difficult to account for your whereabouts at the crucial moment. Though I admit that both Simon and Robert were on stage at the moment of Brother Adam's unfortunate death. Hmm.’

  He paused as though storing the facts gleaned so far, and let his gaze linger on the fearful visage of the lithesome saltatore.

  ‘But most of all you, Margaret. You wanted to be free of his lascivious advances.’

  Margaret paled, but before she could protest, Falconer pressed on.

  ‘You hated the hold he had on you, and the fact that the only way you thought you could serve the man you loved, and were married to, was to make him the cuckold. An impossible dilemma, with only one solution. Murder.’

  The young woman buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Falconer touched her gently on the shoulder, and spoke softly to her. ‘Where's the carpenter's tool?’

  She gazed up with tear-filled eyes. ‘What tool?’

  'the one the robber dropped in the wagon when you were attacked. The one Simon gave you when you asked him for a weapon to protect yourself against de Askeles.’

  She looked round accusingly at Simon, who simply appeared puzzled. It was Robert who dropped his gaze guiltily, recalling what he had told the persistent regent master. Turning back to Falconer, she stammered out an excuse. ‘I do not know. I must have dropped it somewhere when I was exercising.’

  ‘Or plunged it into Brother Adam's back mistaking him for de Askeles. Perhaps it was you who then carried out the deed successfully.’

  Margaret's mouth formed a perfect O of horror as Falconer once again made mental note of possible guilt. He then looked sternly at the whey-faced Fool.

  ‘But Will, you hated the man wit
h a simple hatred for his mistreatment of the monkey. You were on the right side of the stage at the death of both Brother Adam and Stefano de Askeles. And you have an uncontrollable temper - Agnes said so. Did you kill Stefano?’

  Will's face screwed up and turned a blotchy red, like some infant with colic. The denial that came from his lips pierced the heart of all present. ‘Noooo.’

  Falconer patted him on the shoulder. ‘I believe you, Will. For there is someone here who has had a long time to nurture his dislike of Stefano.’ He stepped up to the skinny doctor, Zerach de Alemmania. 'someone who recognized de Askeles as Stephen Askey, a student who a number of years ago was treated by a doctor in this city. When Askey refused to pay his fee, and even threatened to blacken the doctor's name with the slur of necromancy, the doctor threatened his life. Do you recall that, Master Zerach?’

  Zerach stammered in amazement, while the Prior muttered something about not being surprised a Jew was at the bottom of this.

  ‘I cannot say you saw him for sure, but there was opportunity aplenty for you to do so - the whole of Oxford knew of the troubadours' arrival soon after they came through the gates. I do know de Askeles saw you.’

  The doctor's brow furrowed. ‘How?’

  Falconer looked across the room at an embarrassed de Cantilupe. ‘You have Master Thomas here to thank for your recent arrest by the King's officers.’

  De Cantilupe was quick to voice his excuses. ‘It was the Prior who gave me your name.’

  The Prior in his turn explained away his culpability. ‘And I was given your name as a necromancer who deserved arrest and punishment.’

  ‘And who gave you Zerach's name?’

  Falconer was persistent and inexorable in his search for the truth. The Prior mumbled a name that could not be heard. When pressed again by Falconer, he blurted it out. ‘De Askeles.’

  Zerach's face fell. ‘Yes - we did meet. I was in Fish Street when the troubadours arrived. Askey - de Askeles - was standing behind the driver. He was fuller of face than last I had seen him, but still as drunk. I didn't think he had seen me, but I suppose he must have. I did not kill him, though.’

  'then if it was not one Jew, it was the other.’

  This came from the mouth of Edward Petysance. Falconer returned his stare impassively. ‘I take it you do not mean Jehozadok.’

  He looked down at the ancient, who could barely stir his old bones from the chair in which he sat, let alone stab someone.

  ‘And as for Deulegard, why should he kill de Askeles?’

  The youth in question shot a surly look at Falconer as though defying him to find a reason. Petysance supplied it before the regent master could continue.

  'the whole town can provide you with a reason. Everyone heard it from his own mouth after he had defiled my holy relic. A life for a life was his threat. He obviously carried it out.’

  Deulegard's face turned crimson as he rose and screamed back at the little priest. ‘And if I had, I would not regret it now. Solomon was a fool but he was one of my kind, and an eye for an eye is something you Christians should understand.’

  Petysance's face was suffused with self-justification and he gestured at the youth as much as to say that he had confessed. Falconer stepped between them with his back to Deulegard. He spoke directly to Petysance.

  'there is something in what you say. The death of Solomon is indeed the key to our search.’

  Bullock was puzzled.

  ‘Why? What has his death to do with the murder of de Askeles?’

  ‘Perhaps nothing. But it is my experience that deaths following close on the heels of one another are intertwined in some way. We need to ask ourselves why Solomon, a solitary, harmless old graveyard-keeper, was killed at all.’

  Jehozadok's piping voice interrupted. ‘Remember, dear friend, I told you he claimed to have seen someone in the town meeting with a rough-looking type he thought was one of the robbers that plague us. Perhaps they saw him, and wanted to close his mouth.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Falconer did not look convinced. ‘We should not dismiss it as a theory - the traitor in our midst would certainly wish to avoid being exposed. But why didn't he act sooner? No, I think Solomon's death relates to something he saw much more recently in the graveyard.’

  Zerach's face turned a deathly white, and he resembled more closely than ever the skeleton his cadaverous form suggested to the Christian youths who mocked him in the street.

  ‘Why should I kill him, when all he may have seen was me digging for saltpetre? I swear I didn't even know he had seen me.’

  Falconer smiled secretively, and revealed his most startling deduction. ‘Perhaps he died because he knew that de Askeles had defiled the cemetery.’

  There were gasps of astonishment on all sides at this statement, and even Jehozadok raised his dimly seeing eyes to Falconer. Deulegard rose again out of his seat and thrust his face at the regent master's.

  ‘What do you mean, defiled our cemetery?’

  ‘When Jehozadok spoke to me about the death of old Solomon, I was puzzled about the conversation he had had earlier with the old man. As the night guardian of the Jews’ cemetery, it seemed that his statement about seeing God at a graveside was a fanciful idea - perhaps the old man had been dreaming. But, Jehozadok, you assured me Solomon took his duties seriously. That he did not sleep on duty, and that he was a very literal-minded person not given to flights of fancy.’

  ‘He was simple,’ snorted Deulegard.

  'simple, maybe. But he was very clear about what he saw,’ responded Jehozadok. ‘I am interested in what you think he meant, William.’

  ‘He meant exactly what he said. He said he saw God taking away one of the bodies. When you put that fact together with the fact that he had just come from watching a rehearsal of the mystery plays where de Askeles had been playing God on the stage, it is no leap of imagination to realize he meant he saw de Askeles in the cemetery.’

  A small, clear voice cut through the others' expressions of derision and disbelief. Margaret stepped into the light cast by the candles.

  ‘You could be right. I think I now understand what Stefano and John were arguing about the other day when I overheard them. When you were investigating the first attempt on Stefano's life, John wanted to tell you where he and Stefano had been at the time. But Stefano wouldn't let him. Where else could they have been that was nearly as dangerous to reveal as being suspected of murder? It must have been Stefano and John in the cemetery. John said someone had seen them - that must have been this . Solomon.’

  ‘And that is why I have no doubt that it was de Askeles who killed Solomon - to keep him quiet. Pity he was unaware that he had already spoken to the rabbi.’

  At Falconer's words, Jehozadok sighed. ‘At least there is some justice for poor Solomon. His murderer did not escape. But what was de Askeles doing in the graveyard?’

  Falconer knew his next assertion would create an uproar, but pressed on. ‘I realized that when Agnes told me he dabbled in selling fake holy relics. You see, he needed some bones to sell to Edward Petysance.’

  He could not have caused a greater reaction in both camps in the room. Jehozadok's head dropped into his hands, but

  Deulegard's face became a mask of impassivity like something from the actors' property store. The Prior, at first shocked, could not prevent a smirk from crossing his lips at the horror perpetrated on his rival. The holy limb of St Eldad was nothing more than the arm-bone of some long dead Jew - what a wonderful fraud. Edward Petysance just stood stock still, his face bloodless.

  It was Bullock's turn to throw his thoughts into this whirling morass of accusation and denial. 'then if the theft from the cemetery and the sale of the bones was the reason for de Askeles's murder, it must have been you, priest, who killed him.’

  ‘And if I say, as is true, that I had no idea of the vile act that has been perpetrated on me by these evil-minded people until now?’ He stared at Agnes, Simon and Robert as though they were all accomplice
s to de Askeles's deed. 'then it is clear I had no reason to kill him.’

  Deulegard snorted in derision. ‘And we are to take your word for it, are we?’

  Bullock found himself supporting Petysance's reasoning. ‘It matters little whether we believe the priest or not. He was at the front of the crowd watching the plays when de Askeles was killed, wasn't he?’

  It was de Cantilupe's turn to assist. He was finding this exercise in deductive logic most stimulating, and began to understand what enticed Falconer to it.

  ‘Let me think. We saw de Askeles playing the part of God at the end of Christ's Ascension. Then came the Last Judgement, by which time he was dead and had been placed on the throne.’

  ‘But there was a long gap between those scenes,’ added Simon Godrich. 'there always is, while we prepare the final stage.’

  ‘And for the whole of that time,’ stated Petysance triumphantly, ‘I was in view of everyone present in the audience. Didn't the whole crowd see me exhorting the King to visit the holy relics of St Eldad? How could I have killed him, when I was elsewhere? And while we are casting accusations about, I would like to know who pretended to be the Virgin in my church when de Askeles concocted his “miracles” over the fake relics?’ He stared at Margaret, who flushed and looked at the ground. ‘If they can be involved in such a sacrilegious act, it would not surprise me if these so-called troubadours were capable of murdering their own leader. There is no honour amongst thieves, after all.’

  As one, the little band of actors, except for the frightened Will Plome, surged forward angrily towards their accuser. But Falconer stepped in their way, his arms spread wide. 'the priest has a point. He must be innocent, as he could not have been in two places at once.’

  Petysance did not leave it there however, pursuing the object of his hatred. 'then the attack on me, and de Askeles's murder, is clearly laid at this Jew's door.’

  Falconer looked down at the soft leather boots on Deulegard's feet - were they the ones he had espied on the mysterious figure backstage the previous night? Could the dark robe have been the Jew's habitual garb? He had threatened to take a life, and could have known of de Askeles's nocturnal activities, though he protested ignorance and scorned Solomon's story of the appearance of God. The roomful of people, students, priests and Jews sensed his uncertainty, and it was as if no one dared breathe for fear of disturbing his concentration. What he said unleashed a series of unexpected happenings.