Day of Wrath (36 page)

‘Prior, I didn't think you, of all people, would succumb to popular prejudice. Sit down, and try to think rationally, or else another monstrous injustice is going to be enacted on your premises. The person who killed Katharine Hammond knows his way round churches. He knows where the communion wafers are kept. He also knows that putting the wafers on Katharine's eyes would seem like an act of witchcraft – I'm sure you know about the rituals used in the black arts – and all eyes would turn to Agnes Myles. And he's succeeded, hasn't he, Prior? He wants Agnes Myles out of the way. And why does he take so much trouble over an old woman? Because he knows that she knows who he is; and one day she'll give us his name. Jane visits Agnes. Jane knows that one day the old lady'll recover her wits. This is why Agnes must be protected. So don't play into the murderer's hands, Prior. Let the Sheriff and I tackle this in the time-honoured way. Now who do you think is our prime suspect, Sheriff?'

‘Whoever has access to the communion wafers, Lord Nicholas,' said the Sheriff.

‘And that means Father Hubert,' said the Prior aghast.

‘Anyone else?'

‘Only me; I have the master key.'

‘What about the Vicar?' said the Sheriff. ‘He uses communion wafers to celebrate the Mass.'

‘Yes, and he gets them from us. Mind you, we do give him several at a time, and presumably he keeps them in his sacristy.'

‘So Hobbes could have murdered the child?' said the Prior, happy to grasp at any straw.

‘He could, but what's his motive? He grumbles about Agnes Myles, but has never once wanted to put her to death, and I can't see him going to elaborate lengths to incriminate her. Where is he now, by the way?' said the Sheriff.

‘He went off with Katharine's parents. He'll probably stay with them for the rest of the night,' said Jane.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Brother Benedict came in, his face tired and anxious.

‘What is it, Brother Benedict?' said the Prior, jumping to his feet. ‘You look worried to death.'

‘There's something I have to tell you, Prior. Early on Saturday morning, after Matins, I saw Father Hubert get up and go down to the sacristy. Thinking he might be unwell, I followed him. He went in to the sacristy, and returned carrying something hidden under a cloth. He then went out into the cloisters by the north door. Not thinking too much about it, I returned to bed and slept until Prime. But now I think it could be important.'

‘It's very important,' said the Prior gravely. ‘It seems you might be right, my Lord,' he said turning to Nicholas, ‘that one of my community could just possibly have murdered the child. And Father Hubert, of all people! What unspeakable wickedness!'

‘Don't jump to conclusions too quickly,' said Nicholas. ‘Father Hubert might have been doing something quite harmless for all we know.'

‘Harmless? Then why sculk around in the dead of night?' roared the Prior.

‘Agnes also told me that Father Hubert came to her for a tincture of foxglove. He uses it to stimulate the hearts of elderly patients. Used with care it is a life-saver. Too much, it can kill,' said Jane quietly. ‘It could've been added to Bess Knowles's potion – she was a witness too, remember? – and it would have killed her without leaving any traces.'

‘And Brother Wilfrid was going to tell me the name of the person who added something to Bess's drink,' said Nicholas with growing excitement, ‘But, unfortunately, he died before he could give me that name. But he did say, “the old one”. It could've been Father Hubert.'

‘Then we must send for him at once. Have him brought here, Brother Benedict.'

‘And take one of my men to bring him here,' said the Sheriff. ‘And don't let him escape.'

Minutes later, Father Hubert was brought in. He looked frailer than ever with his pale face drawn with anxiety, the sprinkling of grey hair round his tonsure, and his bandaged wrists. Nicholas simply couldn't see in this pathetic old man the cunning traitor who called himself Ultor. However, he certainly looked terrified, and when the Prior accused him of going down to the sacristy in the middle of the night, he began to shake with fear.

‘My Lord Prior,' he said, in a voice so low that the Prior had to bend down to hear him, ‘yes, I did go to the sacristy after Matins.'

‘And what for?' said the Prior looking at him in astonishment.

‘I wanted to get the chalice.'

‘The chalice? What unspeakable abomination were you going to commit with our holy chalice?'

‘No abomination, Prior, I only wanted to hide it.'

‘Worse and worse! Has the devil got into you too? That chalice belongs on the high altar of our church when we celebrate important feast days. What right do you think you've got to hide it?'

‘Because I didn't want the inspectors to see it.'

‘And where have you put it?'

‘I'd rather not say; not until those two men have gone. You might make me give it to them.'

‘Enough of this,' said the Sheriff roughly. ‘This sounds like a pack of lies to conceal the real reason for visiting the sacristy in the dead of night. You wanted to help yourself to some communion wafers, didn't you, for your infernal murder of that innocent child?'

‘My Lord, have mercy, don't let him say such things. Why should I want to harm a child?'

‘To throw the blame on Agnes Myles so that she'll be put on trial for witchcraft; then she'll denounce you, and that would put an end to your scheming.'

‘But why? Why?' said the old man, weeping. ‘What am I supposed to have done?'

‘You want Agnes Myles out of the way,' went on the Sheriff remorselessly, ‘because she knows you went to her to get some tincture of foxglove to kill Bess Knowles.'

‘Yes, I did get some tincture of foxglove from Agnes,' said Father Hubert trembling uncontrollably. ‘I gave it to Brother Martin; he's the one who asked me to collect it from Agnes's house. Why should I want to kill Bess Knowles? She never did me any harm.'

‘No, but she was a witness to a conversation when Sir Roger Mortimer was plotting against the King. He'd want to get rid of Bess Knowles and hired you to do his dirty work for him.'

‘Lord Prior, Lord Nicholas, have mercy! Tell the Sheriff it's not true. He's making a dreadful mistake. I only gave the foxglove to Brother Martin. Why not ask him?'

‘We've only got your word for it. And there's the matter of the communion wafers. That's going to take a lot of explaining away. Now Prior, I shall have to arrest this man and take him to Marchester for further questioning.'

Father Hubert uttered a cry of despair and threw himself down at the Prior's feet. ‘Lord Prior, don't let them do this to me. I've done nothing. It's all a terrible mistake.'

‘Get up, Father,' said the Prior not unkindly, ‘if you've nothing to hide, you've nothing to fear. Now go with the Sheriff and answer his questions and you'll soon be back with us again. Just remember to tell the truth.'

The Sheriff's men led Father Hubert away to the Sheriff's carriage. Nicholas turned to the Prior. ‘I hope to God we've not made a dreadful mistake.'

‘I still can't believe it, poison, murder, sacrilege. Not Father Hubert,' said the Prior. ‘Not unless the devil's got into him and given him supernatural strength.'

There was another knock on the door and Brother Cyril, the Prior's steward, came in.

‘There are two people here to see you. Biddy and Josh Tomkins. They say it's urgent.'

Nicholas looked triumphantly at Jane. ‘At last,' he said, ‘we're getting somewhere. The rats are leaving the sinking ship.'

‘Well, what do you want?' he said as the pair came in, looking nervously round the unfamiliar surroundings.

‘We saw you taking away the old monk,' began Josh, ‘and I said to Biddy, we've got to tell Lord Nicholas. You see, when we saw the little girl, and I know how much the parents are going to grieve, I knew I must tell someone what happened in our house a few days ago.

‘Perkins and Bovet were drinking ale, a bit too much as it happened, and the talk went round to witches and deformed babies and then Perkins said how he'd strung up the witch's cat, and he said he was glad as it only brought harm to the village. The next thing, a strange fellow comes into the house, calling himself a visiting lay brother. Well, we've certainly never seen him before, and we've not seen him since. Then he puts down some money on the counter, and says that's for anyone who'd burn down the witch's shed, because he couldn't abide witches, and neither could his master. Then he says, “I want it done tonight” – he means Sunday morning by that time. Then off he goes. We didn't ask him who his master was because Bovet and Perkins had their eye on the money and I was anxious to get my cut. So we shared the money, the two men went off and you know what happened, and we thought no more about it until now when poor little Katharine was murdered and we saw the monk taken off.'

‘What did this – lay brother – look like?' said the Prior.

‘A monk's a monk, sir, if you know what I mean. They all look the same to me. But he did say he was a lay brother and I suppose he meant by that that he wasn't a proper monk.'

‘Was he young or old?'

‘Oh, they all look old to me. This one wasn't tonsured, but what hair he had didn't look grey; not that I looked too closely.'

‘Well, let me summon all the lay brothers and you can point him out to me.' said the Prior.

‘I wouldn't bother, sir, if you'll excuse me saying so. You see he said he was only visiting.'

‘Only visiting? What diabolical nonsense is this? If he's a visitor, he stays here with me in my house. And we don't have visiting lay brothers. They stay where they are and help to run their monasteries. No, the man's a fraud. And he did say, if I heard correctly, that he was working for a master? Could it be, my Lord, that Father Hubert employed this lay brother to do his work for him? After all, Father Hubert's not strong; he'd need help. And he does travel around a lot and would've met lots of people, wandering lay brothers included.'

‘It's a good theory,' said Jane, who'd been following the conversation intently, ‘except, for the life of me, I can't see Father Hubert as a devious plotter, willing to go to any lengths to carry out his main aim, the death of the King. Can you, Nicholas?'

‘No, it seems highly unlikely. But he is fanatically opposed to the King's policies. You've seen how he admitted to hiding the chalice. With the help of a younger man, he probably thought he could succeed.'

‘Lord Nicholas,' boomed the Prior, ‘we're all opposed to the King's policy. We're all going to be thrown out of here in the very near future. Wagstaff and Laycock will see to that. But that doesn't mean that we're all fanatical killers, does it? We simply bow to a higher authority, and hope that an even Higher Authority will look after us.'

*   *   *

Nicholas left the Prior and rode straight into Marchester, where he stayed for the rest of the day with the Sheriff. Father Hubert, deeply shocked, was locked in the Archdeacon's prison. Bovet and Perkins confirmed the Tomkinses story. Yes, Perkins had killed the witch's cat, yes, they'd been paid to start the fire – only the shed, mind, just to get rid of the witch's potions. Yes, they'd seen money change hands between the monk, who wasn't really a monk, and the Tomkinses. No, they didn't get a good look at the monk – they all looked the same anyway. Miserable lot!

Late on Monday evening, Nicholas rode home. One man arrested. His accomplice still at large. Finding a tall monk who wasn't a proper monk was going to be very difficult. Monks were two a penny; and probably he'd come from a distance any way, because he'd not been seen since the burning down of the shed.

He felt he shouldn't be so depressed. The Sheriff was positively ebullient now that Father Hubert was under lock and key. But Nicholas was uneasy. He felt, instinctively, that they hadn't got the right man. This was just what Ultor wanted. He wanted everyone off the scent. With the hunt called off, he could plot his next bit of devilry. And that meant that the guard on Agnes Myles must not be relaxed. And he must do his utmost to dissuade the King from going to Portsmouth. The King! Nicholas urged Harry forward. He would be here just the day after tomorrow!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The arrival of Amos Cartwright on Tuesday morning brought home the imminence of the King's visit. He triumphantly showed the doublet to Nicholas, who had to admit that it was indeed a work of art. It was made of a sturdy but soft green cloth with lacings down the front to ensure a flexible fit. The sleeves were slashed to reveal a white satin lining. But the collar was the masterpiece. Stiffened, and embroidered with tiny seed pearls arranged to form tiny Tudor roses, it would frame the King's face to perfection. The cuffs were embroidered with the same pattern, and tiny Tudor roses were embroidered down the front of the jacket with the eyes for the laces fitting exactly in the centre of each rose. Even Monsieur Pierre gasped with pleasure when he saw it, and Nicholas took in a sharp breath when he read the bill. Twelve pounds! Twelve pounds just for a coat! There was no doubt about it, the King's visit was going to bankrupt him.

From then onwards, Monsieur Pierre was determined not to be upstaged by a haberdasher. He was going to provide a banquet that would outshine the new doublet. Everywhere there were sounds of cattle lowing, and pigs grunting, whilst geese fluttered round Nicholas's feet when he went out into the courtyard. From a pen erected at the back of the house, two swans glared at him balefully.

He was glad to escape and see Jane. He found her at the Priory, having just taken food to Agnes.

‘How is the old lady?' he asked.

‘Getting stronger by the minute. Nicholas, I'm glad to see you. I've been uneasy about Father Hubert.'