Day of Wrath (29 page)

He called for pen and a sheet of parchment and sat down and wrote.

‘My Lord. I am well aware of the urgency of the situation. I also would like to see Ultor flushed out. Rest assured I will do all I can to ensure the King's safety. Would you send me more precise details of the King's timetable for the seventh, please. Are you planning to feed him after the review and put him up for the night? Peverell.'

Then he got up, gave his letter to the young man wolfing down a plateful of cold meats, and put the Earl's letter on the fire, kicking up the logs to make sure every scrap of it was destroyed.

Anthony had returned and was standing awkwardly by the door. ‘Not you again,' Nicholas said, ‘who is it this time?'

‘That monk, my lord. The one who came before. He wants to see you.'

‘Finish your food,' he said to the messenger as he left the room. ‘Then get back to your master. I shall see you again soon.'

*   *   *

Nicholas went out into the courtyard where Brother Benedict was waiting for him. He bowed to Nicholas.

‘A message from Mistress Warrener, my Lord. She wants to see you. Can she come straight away?'

‘Tell her, yes. Tell her I'll meet her in the usual place.'

Benedict bowed and waited. ‘What now?' said Nicholas impatiently.

‘Prior says will you come and have supper with us tonight. He says he'd appreciate your help with his visitors.'

I'm sure he would, said Nicholas under his breath. ‘Tell him I'll be delighted to come. What time?'

‘Six. Just an informal supper, he says.'

That means only four courses, thought Nicholas as he watched Benedict leave the house. He paused for a moment, watching the retreating figure of the monk. He needed to speak with Jane, to mull over events, to use her sharp mind. There were so many possible suspects. Brother Benedict, for instance. What did anyone know about him? A visitor from France; always going backwards and forwards to his mother house. He could be in communication with Reginald Pole. He was allowed to roam freely round the village, was the Prior's favourite and probably knew what was in the Prior's mind. Could he be Ultor? Or, at least, could he be working for Ultor? So many suspects; so little time to find the right one.

Jane was waiting for him by the stone seat in the orchard. She came over to meet him.

‘We must talk, Nicholas. It's Agnes.'

That name again, he thought. Somehow he knew instinctively that this old lady was going to lead them to Ultor. ‘How is she, Jane?' he said.

‘Still confused; but getting stronger. The isolation suits her. She's beginning to feel safe. But I am worried about her. She's a key witness, Nicholas. If she remembers the names of all the people who came to see her over the last two weeks and what they wanted, one of them could be the person we're looking for – the person who killed Bess Knowles, who tried to kill you up in the woods, and is planning to kill again. Agnes could have supplied him with the means. He'll want her out of the way. And everyone knows where she is and it's only a matter of time before someone gets her out of that room. It's very strongly built, but it wouldn't be difficult to smoke her out or break down the door. And the Prior is under pressure to get rid of her.

‘I know this, because something happened yesterday. I took her some food as usual. She was asleep so I shut the door and waited. Suddenly I heard voices. Now, as you know, there is a small window at the back of the cell so that the anchoress who used to live there could watch Mass being sung. Now I heard two of the Brothers talking. I stood on a chair and saw Father Hubert talking to Brother Michael and the upshot of it was that both said they wanted to get rid of Agnes. They called her names, old hag, dirty witch, and so on, and then went on to discuss the King's visitors who are coming today. They talked about ours being a godless society; you know how they witter on. Then they started talking about Agnes again and how she was putting a curse on the place and they would all be destroyed if they didn't throw her out. Utter nonsense, of course. Agnes isn't capable of cursing anyone, even if she knew how to.'

Nicholas stared intently at Jane. ‘I wonder…' he began.

‘You wonder what?'

‘Perhaps we've not been concentrating on the right place. Perhaps we're being blind. Perhaps Ultor's here, in our community, in the Priory.'

‘One of the monks? Surely not.'

‘Why not, Jane? They might be holy, but they're human. And they're about to be sent packing. From the Prior downwards, they are all against the King's policy. And, by God, Jane, the Prior's coming to dine with us on the seventh. The Prior! If he's Ultor – and he's got the brains for it – there's his opportunity handed to him on a plate. All he'd have to do would be to slip one of Brother Michael's concoctions into the King's drink.'

‘Surely there's a royal taster?'

‘That's true, but there would be an opportunity later on when everyone's relaxed. No, it's not as ridiculous as it seems. Just think of it, for a moment. He's literate. Everyone respects him. He has his own coach and travels round the county. He could be responsible for starting all these rumours against Agnes and everyone would believe him. I know he agreed to have her in his Priory, but that could just be a cover to put us off the scent.

‘Now he could have consulted Agnes about which herbs were lethal, and of course, would want to shut her up. Yes, it makes sense. He might balk at the idea of killing her himself, but by spreading rumours that she's a witch, he can leave it to the community to take the law into its own hands.

‘And Jane, don't you see that when she talks, she's going to talk to you, and that puts your life in danger.'

‘Oh don't worry about me. As I said before, I'm only a woman, and therefore quite harmless.'

‘I'm not so sure. If Ultor is my Lord Prior, he'll know you've got a mind as sharp as nails – equal to any man's.'

She gave him a sideways look, and he wondered what he'd said wrong. She bobbed him a curtsy. ‘Thanks, Nicholas. I'm glad you've got confidence in me. But, just stop and think before we're carried away by supposition. The Prior! Nicholas, he's such a softy! He loves beautiful things: music, paintings, food and good-looking people. Ultor stands for all that's ugly, destructive. How can he be the Prior?'

‘Jane, just because the Prior admires music doesn't rule out the fact that he could be deeply resentful that his Priory is going to be closed down and all his monks turned out, and his luxurious life-style would come to an end. Besides, he might also regret that he ever took the Oath of Supremacy and might seize any opportunity of getting rid of the King. Jane, he could be the man we're looking for.'

‘He could be, I suppose, Nicholas, but I don't believe you.'

‘Well, maybe Agnes can help us.'

‘If her memory comes back in time. But memories are strange things, and Agnes has had two severe shocks. Let's hope the Prior doesn't give in to popular pressure and evict her before her memory returns. She needs rest and quiet. To move her again would set us back days.'

‘And we can't afford that. I'll make sure the Prior doesn't evict her. But all right, I take your point. The Prior looks, on the surface, too relaxed and easy-going to be our man. But now let's take a look at his monks. All of them could be involved in this conspiracy. All of them are against the King. But realistically, most of them are unaware of the trouble that's coming their way. They trust the Prior implicitly to look after them. But some of them could be more worldly and want to do something to put a stop to the King's policy. Brother Benedict, for instance – yes, I know it's unlikely,' he said noticing her astonishment, ‘but what do we know about him? Not much. He frequently crosses the Channel, ostensibly to top up the Prior's cellar when it runs dry. It's a good excuse, isn't it? He could be under the Pope's orders to do anything he can to put a stop to the King's destruction of the monasteries. Then take Father Hubert, for instance. Yes, Jane, you may well look surprised, but he's just told me that he was up in the woods collecting herbs when my horse bolted, but, just think, he could have seen me and seized his opportunity to get rid of me. That branch could have caught me on the neck or round the chest and I wouldn't be here with you now. After all, I seem to have the reputation of being the King's favourite. A reluctant favourite, I must say! But all the same, my death could have been a warning to the King that if he doesn't give up his policy of closing down the monasteries, the same fate awaits him. I'm not saying that Father Hubert is Ultor; but I am saying that he might know who he is, and be working for him. So, there are three people from the Priory whom we know about, who could be Ultor – if we count the Prior – or know who he is.'

‘And I still think it's unlikely that any of them are involved in this. They're just not worldly enough. It needs a devious mind to plot the elimination of witnesses. Mind you, there are a lot of drunks from the ale-house ready to do any dirty work required,' said Jane. ‘Although Pierrepoint, the churchwarden, says that none of them knew anything about the fire at Agnes's house. After all, it started after the ale-house had closed.'

‘Yet I think, and so does the Sheriff,' said Nicholas, ‘that the Tomkinses know more than they let on. Also the Sheriff's got the two men in custody whom he thinks started the fire. They were regulars at the ale-house. Sooner or later they're going to talk.'

‘It seems to me that we're spending a lot of time waiting for people to talk,' Jane said bitterly.

‘And we've not much time left. We've got to get back to our suspects. You to your spying; me to interviewing the monks.'

‘Prior'll not permit it.'

‘He will if I'm doing the interviewing. And if he doesn't, then he'll become the chief suspect and I can summon the Sheriff.'

He turned to go, but Jane paused, her face tense with concentration. ‘You know, I still find it difficult to believe that the monks are involved in this conspiracy, Nicholas. I know they disapprove of the King, and it's understandable that they object to being ordered out of their own monastery, but they all took the Oath of Supremacy; there was no sign of rebellion then. This all smacks to me of a secular conspiracy.'

‘I'm inclined to agree with you, Jane. Fitzroy's the obvious suspect. But monks are human beings. They have emotions just like us. They can love, hate, desire vengeance. We mustn't rule them out just because they seem unlikely suspects.'

The Sheriff and I did explore Fitzroy's possible role in this. Now, if you like, let's take another look at him. He's put his own steward, Roland Seaward, in Mortimer's house. Now Seaward could be doing Fitzroy's dirty work for him. He's in an excellent position to stir up trouble in the village against Agnes Myles, and prepare the way for when Fitzroy decides to strike.'

‘And how's he going to do that?'

‘He raises the muster for the county, remember. They are a band of loyal men, loyal to Fitzroy, that is. They are armed, ready to fight when he gives the order. Arundel is only an hour's ride away from here. Instead of coming here to guard the King, they could do just the opposite.'

Jane looked at him in horror. ‘But that would be outright rebellion. You don't know this for certain, do you, Nicholas?'

‘No, I don't. I'm just running through the possible suspects. Fitzroy's not to be trusted. His only loyalty is to himself. He's an unscrupulous rogue, only out for what he can get. He shopped Mortimer, remember, who trusted him, and look what happened – he put one of his own men in Mortimer's house. The only thing that makes me doubt he's Ultor is that the Sheriff doesn't think he's clever enough to be Ultor, and he's illiterate.'

‘But maybe Roland Seaward writes his letters for him. Or someone else could.'

‘Then I'll have to find out.'

‘Also Mary Woodman might be able to help us. After all she worked up at Mortimer's place before your steward enticed her away.'

‘Enticed? Surely not. Not Geoffrey!'

‘What's so surprising about that? After all, Cupid's not fussy where he directs his arrows.'

‘I didn't know you were an expert on Cupid, Jane. But seriously, Mary might be able to tell us something. I wonder how many times over the last few weeks Fitzroy visited Mortimer's house. I know he said he denied any involvement with Mortimer's conspiracy, and that fits. He'd want to lead his own conspiracy, not let Mortimer call the shots.'

‘You mean he betrayed Mortimer to the King, got his house, and then started plotting to get rid of the King, bring in one of the Yorkist claimants and so put himself in line for a fat reward? God in heaven, Nicholas, could a man be so evil?'

‘He could and it's happened here before, not so long ago. After all, the Tudors have only been on the throne sixty years. They're relative newcomers. They can't afford to relax. But I'm quite sure the King's got the measure of Fitzroy. He's not mentioned to me that he wants him on the guest list.'

‘But the trouble is, somehow I don't think Fitzroy's behind this. The time's not right for him. He's too obvious a suspect. I can't see him writing to Pole, who doesn't have, as far as I can see, any political ambitions at all. No, if Fitzroy's going to turn traitor, then he'll be doing so for his own ends and in his own time. However, I'll go and see Roland Seaward. And you, Jane, back to your squint window. And be careful. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.'

*   *   *

Roland Seaward was comfortably installed in Mortimer Lodge. He bemoaned the fact that he'd been left in the lurch by Mary Woodman, but he was able to roast lamb, and Mortimer's cellars were well stocked with casks of wine and beer. He seemed to be enjoying the life of a country gentleman and he hoped that if Lord Gilbert Fitzroy bought the house from the King for his new hunting lodge, then he could continue to run the place for him. No, he never went down to the ale-house. Why should he? He had everything he wanted closer to hand. No, he'd never heard of Agnes Myles, and no, he couldn't read or write. He could count and that's all a steward needed to know. And he used an abacus for numbers over ten when he ran out of fingers. Does Lord Gilbert come and see him often? Nicholas asked. No, he doesn't, was the reply. Not once, since Mortimer was arrested. What was the point? He'd had his instructions. Look after the property and keep away thieves.