The Assassin's Riddle (27 page)

‘I don’t think so, mistress. Sir John here sent a messenger to Epping. We know you’ve been out of the village for some time. Ah no, you laid your plans very cleverly. On the morning we met, you’d already been busy. Edwin had told you about Peslep’s daily habits. You went to the Ink and Pot tavern dressed as a young man, imitating and mocking Alcest by having spurs on your boots. Peslep went out to the jakes; the tavern was noisy, he was by himself and so you struck. You went across and stabbed him twice, once in the belly and once in the neck whilst his hose was still around his ankles. You knew that.’

Athelstan pushed a blackjack of ale towards her. She sipped from it but her eyes never left his.

‘When I brought you here to Southwark the night we met William the Weasel you remarked on how Peslep had died, stabbed with his hose around his ankles. How did you know that?’

‘You told me.’

‘No, we didn’t, mistress,’ Cranston interrupted. ‘Brother Athelstan and I never tell anyone the exact details of a murder.’

‘Then someone else told me!’

‘No, no, they didn’t.’ Athelstan paused. ‘You also made another mistake: the day I anointed Edwin’s corpse in the death house, you talked not of one assassin but a group. You asked if “they” would be caught and punished. At the time, a slip of the tongue but, as more murders took place and we discovered the villainy of those clerks, I began to wonder.’ Athelstan sipped at his ale. ‘Anyway, you killed Peslep, returned to your private chamber, God knows where it is, changed into a travel-stained dress and made your way to the Silver Lute, as if you had just arrived in London. You then went to the Chancery of the Green Wax. The news of Edwin Chapler’s death had reached there. The clerks informed you, comforting you. They saw you as they saw every woman, a pretty face and an empty head. You are, however, most skilful and sharp-witted, a veritable Salome dancing amongst the innocents.’ Athelstan smiled grimly. ‘Or perhaps not so innocent! You knew all about their little pots of malmsey; they let you wander round the chamber, perhaps hold Edwin’s cup. At the appropriate moment you slipped a potion into Ollerton’s cup. You were going to pay them back in similar coin.’

‘Edwin had told you everything, hadn’t he?’ Cranston intervened. ‘Particularly the clerks’ love of riddles. So you concocted some of your own. Each riddle stood for a letter forming the word
poena
, the Latin for punishment. You would carry out punishment against these assassins.’

‘I was in Southwark when they found the riddle after Ollerton died.’

‘Oh come, mistress.’ Sir John patted her on the shoulder. ‘Do we have to make inquiries amongst the traders near the Chancery of the Green Wax? Some apprentice will surely recall a young man, hooded and cowled, spurs on his boots, giving him a note, paying him well to push it under the door of the Chancery at a certain time.’

‘You planned to be elsewhere,’ Athelstan added, ‘by asking to leave the city. You never really would have left until this matter was finished.’

Alison closed her eyes.

‘Elflain was easy,’ Athelstan remarked. ‘Off to see his pretty whore. For Napham you bought a caltrop, entered his chamber by a window and laid it on the floor. But there was no riddle for Alcest. What were you preparing for him, eh? Knowing what you did, perhaps you’d leave him to the King’s Justices. After all, he did wear spurs. Chapler had probably told you that he kept the money for his friends, which might be discovered. He would die last: it would not only complete your riddle but suit your desire for revenge. Alcest would have suffered horrid execution.’

Benedicta, who had sat shocked, listening to it all, leaned forward to touch Athelstan’s hand. ‘But Alison told me that a man fitting the description of the killer had been seen round the tavern at which she’d been staying.’

‘Oh, she told me the same,’ Athelstan replied. ‘That would make matters even more mysterious, wouldn’t it? Deflect suspicions from her. No, no, somewhere in this city Mistress Alison has a chamber either in a house or a tavern, the same place she used to meet Edwin. There she could change from dress to hose, cloak, hat, riding boots and spurs. Dressed in such, she visited the Silver Lute to be seen, so never would anyone think she and this mysterious stranger were one and the same.’

Athelstan glanced at Alison who had put both hands on the table. ‘Sir John has enough evidence to arrest you and put you into prison. The King’s serjeants at law will have sufficient to lay before the Justices at Westminster.’ Athelstan ticked the points off his fingers. ‘We can prove that you are not Alison Chapler. We will discover who you really are, and why you are hiding under another different name and identity. We will search the city for your secret chamber. We will prove that you left Epping much earlier than you claim.’

‘And there’s more,’ Cranston declared, coming round to stand beside Athelstan. ‘We’ll probably find other evidence in our searches. Perhaps a pair of spurs, a piece of string? The lawyers of the Crown will ask how you knew so much about Peslep’s death. They will make inquiries about the caltrop amongst the armourers of the city.’ Cranston spread his hands. ‘Why go to such bother?’

Alison smiled so sweetly that Athelstan doubted for a moment whether she could kill a fly.

‘What does it matter?’ she asked. ‘Edwin is dead. They are all dead.’ Her face hardened. ‘They with their big bellies, their codpieces, their swagger and their gold. Why didn’t they just leave Edwin alone?’ She glanced at Benedicta. ‘I begged him, you know. I begged him just to ignore them: to do his task and leave them be, but Edwin wasn’t like that. He was a good man, a truly decent soul.’ She glanced at Athelstan. ‘Isn’t it strange, Father, being brought down by good men? First Edwin and now you. Perhaps it shows you can’t escape your fate.’

‘What do you mean?’ Cranston asked.

‘My father was a good man, a travelling player. He was also influenced by the teachings of Wycliffe and the Lollards.’

‘I have heard of them,’ Athelstan replied. ‘They attack the corruption of the Church.’

‘My father taught me to read and write,’ Alison continued. ‘When he began teaching, he was arrested in Cambridge. The Justices sentenced him to be branded, a red-hot iron slit through his tongue. My father died in prison. I was only twelve. God knows what would have happened to me but Edwin used to visit the prisoners there.’ She took a deep breath, fighting back the tears. ‘He took pity on me, stood as guarantor for my good behaviour. When I was released, he secured employment for me in his hall. Afterwards he gained a position with a merchant, rented chambers and I became his housekeeper. He was very brave. The ecclesiastical authorities were suspicious, so we moved; first to Ely and then to Epping. I fell in love with Edwin. We became handfast as husband and wife. A hedge priest performed the ceremony but, to the world, we were brother and sister.’

She clasped her hands together, weaving her fingers in and out. ‘The rest is as you know it. Edwin secured employment in the Chancery of the Green Wax. He hated what they did and believed he should reveal such corruption to the authorities. Of course they retaliated: first they killed his horse, then they tried to poison him. I used to come to London dressed as a man to our private chambers near the Abbot of St Alban’s inn. I was frightened for Edwin. I was in London the night he died. He wanted to go to pray by himself in the chapel of St Thomas à Becket. When he didn’t come back, I knew what had happened.’

She pushed her hair away from her face. ‘I am glad I carried out justice. I sent them riddles. I made them frightened. Let them taste a little of the medicine they served out to poor Edwin.’ She smiled at Athelstan. ‘As soon as I met you, I wondered how it might go: that’s why I struck so swiftly. All it took was a little cunning.’

Alison sipped from her tankard. ‘Of course I was in London when Edwin died. Even before it happened, I had a premonition. When Edwin was taken ill after the attempted poisoning and sent me that letter, I came to London and wondered what I should do. Edwin never stayed away from me when I was in the city. I heard about the other clerks carousing at the Dancing Pig. Somehow I knew they were responsible for his death.’

‘And so you decided to be two people?’ Athelstan asked.

‘Yes, Brother. When I was with my father I had experience as dressing as a youth. And again whenever I travelled into London to meet Edwin. It was a subtle disguise. On the morning I killed Peslep, I visited Edwin’s garret once more, just to make sure. After that it was simply making sure that Alison Chapler was elsewhere whenever this young man was seen. When Ollerton died, I was in Southwark. After I killed Elflain I crossed the river, whilst I placed the caltrop in Napham’s chamber very early in the day.’

‘Did you hope to escape?’ Cranston asked.

‘Sir John,’ Alison smiled, ‘I didn’t really care. I didn’t disguise myself because I was frightened. I just wanted the time, the means to carry out my revenge. If I hadn’t been caught,’ she shrugged, ‘I would have travelled back to Epping, perhaps sold my goods and entered some comfortable nunnery. Men like Edwin are rare: I would not meet his like again.’

‘You were clever,’ Athelstan broke in, ‘deliberately being seen round the Silver Lute, asking the landlord to keep an eye out for a mysterious young man, although that did intrigue me. When we met William the Weasel,’ he continued, ‘you were not at all frightened. Yet you acted as if your life depended on leaving the Silver Lute.’

‘I wasn’t going to leave London,’ Alison replied, ‘until I saw the end of the game: the destruction of all those evil men.’

‘And Alcest? Why didn’t you take care of the leader?’

‘It suited my purposes, Brother. His name was at the end of
Poena
. I actually planned that he take the blame for all the murders.’ She glanced at Cranston. ‘Have you found where they hid the profits of their wickedness?’

‘No, we haven’t,’ the coroner replied. ‘But I know our Regent. He’ll search all the goldsmiths and bankers in the city for that gold.’

Alison got to her feet. ‘And I suppose that is it, is it not?’

‘Yes,’ Athelstan answered softly. ‘I suppose it is. Alcest killed Chapler. You carried out those murders.’

‘I have to arrest you.’ Cranston came round the table.

Alison dug into her wallet and brought out a purse of coins. She dropped these on the table in front of Athelstan. ‘The game is finished,’ she said. ‘Brother, take care of poor Edwin’s grave. I have left a will with the priest in Epping. Everything is to be sold and given to the poor. God will understand.’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Benedicta volunteered.

‘God forgive me,’ Cranston whispered, beckoning Flaxwith forward, ‘but you are to be lodged in Newgate.’

‘Am I now?’ Alison smiled.

Athelstan also rose. On the one hand this young woman had committed terrible murder but, on the other, she had loved deeply and, in her own eyes, carried out justice.

‘Is there anything we can do, Sir John?’

‘No, Father, there isn’t,’ Alison interrupted. ‘I don’t want Sir John making false promises. These clerks come from powerful families. If I sought sanctuary they would track me down and, when I face the Justices, money will exchange hands.’ She walked towards Athelstan and kissed him gently on each cheek. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered. ‘Look after Edwin’s grave. Say masses for him and me.’

She joined Cranston, Flaxwith and Benedicta at the door.

‘I’d best go, Brother.’

Benedicta, who was dabbing at her eyes, pointed across at the small writing desk under the window. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Whilst you were across at the Tower, Brother Niall came. He left a letter for you.’

‘He probably wants a book back,’ Athelstan replied quickly before Cranston could demand what the letter might contain. He walked to the door.

Alison smiled again, Cranston bade goodnight and they left.

Once they were gone, Athelstan sat down on the stool, face in his hands, and said a short prayer for Alison Chapler. ‘I didn’t even get to know her real name,’ he murmured.

Bonaventure, as if he knew that Samson had gone, slipped through the window, tail erect, head stiff. He walked in and, as if disgusted at the fact that his master had dared to have a dog in the house, jumped on to the writing desk, curled up and went to sleep.

Athelstan walked across, picked up Brother Niall’s letter, undid the seals and began to read it.

Cranston and his party walked on to London Bridge, along the narrow thoroughfare between the shops and houses. The coroner walked in front, Benedicta, one arm linked through Alison’s came next, Flaxwith and Samson trailed behind. At the chapel of St Thomas, Alison stopped.

‘Sir John!’ she called out.

The coroner turned.

‘I’ll never be given the opportunity again,’ she said and pointed to the narrow passageway which ran along the side of the chapel. ‘I’d like to go there,’ she said. ‘I really would: say a short prayer where poor Edwin died.’ She held the coroner’s gaze. ‘Please,’ she whispered, gently pushing Benedicta’s arm away. She walked up and tugged at Cranston’s jerkin. ‘Please,’ she repeated. ‘You know what is going to happen to me, no mercy will be shown. Just a few moments. Please!’

Cranston glanced at Benedicta. She looked away. Flax-with crouched as if closely studying the leather collar round Samson’s neck. Even the dog turned its head away. Cranston looked up at the sky.

‘Go,’ he said. ‘Go and say your prayers, then I’ll come for you.’

Alison walked away, the patter of her sandals echoing along the passageway.

‘Sir John! Sir John!’

The coroner turned. Athelstan was running towards them, hood pulled back, one hand clutching his robe. He slipped and slithered in the mud. A window casement opened and someone shouted out.

‘The riddle!’ Athelstan gasped. ‘The very first one.’ He looked round. ‘Where’s Alison?’

‘I let her go to the bridge rails,’ Cranston replied. He pointed to the passageway, refusing to meet Athelstan’s eyes. ‘She said she wanted to pray where Edwin’s corpse was thrown over.’

Athelstan ran down the passageway, Cranston and the others following. There was no one there, nothing, only a piece of silk Alison had wrapped round her waist; this was tied to one of the rails of the bridge, flapping forlornly in the evening breeze. Athelstan looked over at the water frothing below. He closed his eyes and said the Requiem.