The Chapel of Bones: (Knights Templar 18) (22 page)

Seeing William had forced her to face the truth about the man. Will had been her lover many years ago, and even as she had accused him she had been aware of his masculinity – not because she wanted a lover straightaway, but because old attractions died hard. If she was honest, her accusation was not intended to provoke a confession – it was an invitation for him to
deny
his guilt.

But his manner, his coarseness and brutal disinterest, revealed his true character. He was more than capable of murder; he had very likely killed her Henry.

Julia saw the need for protection as clearly as she, and it only served to make her determined to win Udo as a husband before it was too late and he found another woman to his liking.

When her daughter was born, Mabilla had dreamed of the day when Julia would marry. She had thought of the dress, the gathering crowds at the church door, the admiring faces, the jealous mothers and daughters who bitterly saw that they had missed out on this splendid match because their daughters were not so beautiful as Julia. She had expected Henry to be there, with his wealth exhibited on every side; and now, here she was, plotting with her child to install Julia in the first available man’s house, in a financial arrangement to guarantee both of their futures. And such a short time, such a very short time, after poor Henry’s death, too. It was enough to start the tears springing again.

‘I am sure he will make me happy,’ Julia said confidently. At least Udo would save the two of them from ruination. ‘We must find a husband for me so that we can be safe.’

Aye, her mother thought, and so that I can be safe from the man who said he used to love me and now threatens to murder me. And again her mind turned to Will, and to wondering whether he really had murdered her husband.

‘Oh, God! My poor Henry!’ she wailed suddenly, and fell to her knees, her face hidden in her hands.

What should she do? What else
could
she do, other than sell her daughter?

Sara was getting over it. She must: she had another son to think of. The bodies had been taken away to the church, and all waited there now for the Coroner’s arrival so that he could comment on the deaths, and when that had been done, her Elias could be buried.

It was only three days ago, and yet it felt like a year of suffering. She’d hardly got used to the idea that she would never see Saul again, and now she must wait for the Coroner once more. Her poor Elias! Her darling little boy! All he did was try to find some food from the Priory, and he had paid for it with his life.

She might have died too, had it not been for the kind mason. The man Thomas had appeared as though from nowhere again, and grabbed her from the dark sea which was gradually carrying her out on the tide towards death. At that moment, it had been a welcome journey, and his intervention unwelcome, but as soon as she began to breathe and could think, and realised that her son was in there somewhere too, needing to be rescued, the will to live had flooded her body. Then she had seen her little Elias’s ruined frame being picked from the mound of corpses, his eyes open but unfocused, his mouth slack, head dangling, his body crushed. It took one glance to see that he was dead.

She had sunk to the ground with Elias in her lap, weeping and wailing, pulling her hair, mixing dust and ash from the ground in her long tresses, utterly bereft. It was only the feel of the hand on her shoulder that helped her to come to her senses. That and the words Thomas muttered: ‘Be strong, girl. It’s terrible, but you must be strong for your other boy. Think of him.’

That gruff, sad voice had hauled her back from the edge of despair like a rope. She still had Dan. And he deserved to have her alive and whole to protect him as best she might. It would avail nothing, were she to die of misery and leave him alone in this cruel world.

And so she had remained sitting there while the men about her, Thomas included, pulled bodies from the pile, gave them a cursory glance, and then either set them gently at the wall’s side to rest until they could be helped, or joined the larger pile ready for the Coroner to view before they might be interred.

Like many of the men there, Thomas was crying as he joined in this terrible task. Those who were helped to the wall to sit upright were all in the topmost layers of bodies. As the men released them from the press, they began to find fewer and fewer who were still breathing. So many were dead, that they had to start a second pile for all the corpses. The crowd had shoved forwards on a wide front, and when people began to fall, they collapsed from the front, up to six deep in places, where those behind had tried to clamber over the bodies in front in order to escape the terror, only to fall and be smothered in their turn by others. Now this long line of three-and-forty people was being broken into a series of smaller piles.

Thomas couldn’t remain until the finish. When he was sure that there were no more people living in that hideous mound, he walked to Sara and helped her up. They took Elias back
along the roadway which she had entered all those hours before, buoyed with the hope of a filled belly at last, and Thomas led the way to the Church of St John Bow, where he asked the shocked-looking priest whether they could carry her child into the church. The priest nodded his head, his own eyes full of tears. They carried Elias into the church and set him down gently before the altar. Elias was the first body there.

Recalling those moments, Sara wiped her eyes. He had been a rock to her, this Thomas. She was sure that he must be a kind man. Since the disaster, he had appeared with food and drink for her each day, and she had forced herself to eat under his sternly compassionate eye, reminding herself that she had to remain strong to protect Dan.

The older boy had taken the news of his brother’s death badly. He had sworn aloud to hear that Elias was dead, and his anger had not been assuaged when Thomas tried to calm him. His words were directed at Thomas, but Sara knew that his true rage was targeted at himself. He was the master of the family, and he had failed his brother; it should have been him, Danny, in that queue, not his mother and his feeble sibling.

She was expecting the tentative knock when the light was starting to fade. The masons and labourers worked longer hours in the summer, but when the sun dipped earlier, they were allowed to have a shorter day, although the Cathedral reduced their pay accordingly. Thomas always came here as soon as he stopped work, and usually brought either food he had saved from the Cathedral’s contribution – because all the workers were entitled to their own supply of ale and bread at the Cathedral’s expense – or, if that wasn’t available, he’d buy more food for her and Dan on his way to them.

He was a generous-hearted man, she thought. When she was at her lowest ebb, he was there to collect her and renew her
spirits. He had certainly saved her life that day outside the Priory, and since then he had kept her and Dan fed.

Yes, it was him. He stood in the doorway when she pulled it open, his bearded face smiling apprehensively, as though he half-expected her to launch herself at him and tear him to pieces. She had the impression that if she were to attack him, he would do nothing to protect himself.

It was a weird idea. She was nothing to him, just as he should be nothing to her – but she could feel a tie between them. Just as he must have accepted responsibility for her in some way for saving her life, likewise, she was ready to accept his presents. Perhaps it was nothing more than the kindness of a co-labourer and mason for the widow of another. She knew that there were little clubs which allocated a sum of money to cover the funeral expenses of the less fortunate workers who died at the Cathedral so that their families shouldn’t have to suffer that expense just as they were coming to terms with their grief; but sadly she also knew that Saul had never invested in such a fund. If the other masons knew of her plight, maybe they had thrown some money into a cap to help her, and since Thomas knew her slightly, after bringing her the news of her darling Saul’s death, perhaps they thought his face would be more acceptable to her.

Looking up at him now, she reckoned that if that was their thinking, they were right. She liked his rough, untended beard with the grey flecks and sandyish hairs about his bottom lip. It was a perfect frame for his kind eyes, which watched her always with that faint hint of anxiety, as though he was convinced she’d show him the door the instant he began to speak to her.

‘Thank you,’ she said as she took in the sight of the food he held in his arms. He smiled as though relieved to note her welcoming tone, and then she gestured him inside, taking the
items from his arms and setting them on the table.

‘Dan not here?’ he asked as she almost pushed him down into a seat.

‘No, he’s gone out. A friend called for him.’

Sara was fascinated by Thomas’s changing expressions. It was hard to read any emotion in his face. His mouth could smile without affecting his eyes, yet sometimes she saw that his eyes were laughing, although his mouth was set in a firm, pursed line. Although she had no intention of dishonouring her husband’s memory, she found herself attracted to this powerful, big-hearted man.

‘You are too kind to me,’ she breathed as she discovered a slab of meat, dripping with blood. It was only very rarely that she and her husband had been able to afford meat, and the sight of this made her belly rumble alarmingly.

He looked away with embarrassment. She put the meat into her cooking pot, added water from the bucket and set it over the fire to stew. Neither spoke for what seemed a very long time, and then she looked up and found his eyes upon her. There was an infinite sadness in his face, and she set her head to one side with sympathy flowing through her veins. She said gently, ‘Tell me what upsets you so much, Thomas.’

He looked away. ‘I was just thinking – I never had a wife nor children, and I realise how much I’ve missed.’

‘It’s not all easy,’ she said. ‘Sometimes you hate your family.’

‘I don’t believe that of you. You loved your man, didn’t you? And his children.’

She could feel the tears begin again. The mere mention of Saul and Elias could make her throat constrict. ‘I never regretted marrying him,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘You are fortunate.’

‘Did you never want to settle with a woman of your own?’

‘There were women I admired from a distance, but when I set out on my trade, I never stayed long enough in one place to settle down. By the time I had slowed down enough to appreciate what I was missing, it was too late. I was too old. Look at me! A wrinkled husk of a man with little to recommend me.’

‘There’s enough. You have a good soul.’

He looked away again at that.

‘Your voice,’ she said after a moment. ‘You sound like the men of this city. Did you use to live here?’

‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘But I had to leave.’

‘Why?’

His head drooped, and he glanced at her from under his brows. ‘Many years ago, when I was a wild youth, I got into a fight. A man died. Then because of one man lying, someone else was captured for the murder, and he was executed. He died for what I’d done.’

‘That’s terrible! So you felt so sorry to know that an innocent man had died, that you left?’

‘The innocent man was my father,’ Thomas said, and his shoulders began to leave with silent sobs. It was the first time he had ever spoken of his guilt, but now his life was changing again. Matthew was sure to spread news of his presence.

After all, Thomas had helped kill Matthew’s companions, and almost killed Matthew himself.

Baldwin had spent the afternoon uselessly waiting to speak to the Annuellar Paul who found the body, but Paul’s canon had several duties for him that day and the lad couldn’t be found until it was almost time for Vespers.

Baldwin caught up with him as the fellow walked towards the Cathedral. ‘Paul? I must speak to you,’ he said.

The Annuellar was tall and lanky, with a mop of tallow-coloured hair and a pasty face which showed off an explosion of acne to best advantage. He shot a look at his canon, a short, thickset man with a glowering demeanour. ‘May I just speak to this—’

‘It’s time for Vespers, boy. Get a move on. We don’t have time to stand and chat with everyone who wants our company!’

Baldwin felt his jaw tighten. ‘That is fine. I have travelled ten leagues to be here at the request of your Dean to help the Cathedral before the Coroner returns because of the shame and embarrassment the dead man’s body will bring to you all. I have already been forced to wait the afternoon, so I suppose you do not wish me to learn what has happened. I shall take my leave, Master.’

‘Where are you going?’ the canon asked suspiciously.

‘To apologise to your Dean. And to write to your Bishop. I haven’t seen Bishop Walter for some weeks, but we are well-acquainted, and I should be sorry to leave here without putting in a commendation for your deeply religious approach in this matter. Clearly Vespers is very important, Master, and it is your duty to see that all the services are correctly attended. God forbid that one should miss a service, when the only alternative would be that a man’s murderer, who shamed the whole Chapter, might be discovered.’

‘Wait! Oh, very well, Sir Knight, but hurry with your questions, and don’t forget, God watches over us, and if you prevent this lad from performing his duty, God will punish you for your temerity! Paul, go. But hurry to the service when this … person has finished with you.’