Unholy Innocence (25 page)

Chapter 23

EXPLANATIONS
AT LAST

Geoffrey
de Saye sat glowering at me across the antechamber outside Abbot Samson’s study while we listened to the voices raging inside, and a sorrier pair of half-drowned rats there never was on God’s good earth. We looked as though we’d both been in a mud fight – which was exactly what we had been, of course. His nephew, Earl Geoffrey, had marched straight in to Samson’s study without so much as a by-your-leave still in his riding boots and leaving a trail of muddy footprints on the scrubbed floor of the antechamber. I could not but admire the length of his stride as evidenced by those footprints and saw clearly why he was the chief minister of the land while I was a mere lowly cloister monk.

De Saye was still looking a bit groggy from having been knocked out but managed to retain that air of superiority that is natural to his rank confident, no doubt, that his version of events would be accepted before mine. If I had any doubts before that he was capable of murdering little Matthew I had them no longer: He’d nearly done the same to me. I was trying to work out, as I studied him now across the ten feet that separated us, why he had attacked me in the forest. It can’t have been a comfortable ride in all that rain so he must have been pretty desperate to persist. The only explanation I could come up with was that everything Alric had told me must be true, that de Saye was indeed the murderer and learning that I knew the truth of it he had followed me out of the town in order to silence me before I had a chance to tell anyone else. It wouldn’t have taken much to persuade him to kill me since, judging by the expression on his face, his hatred for me remained as keen as ever. Indeed, I was sure he would be upon me in a moment if it wasn’t for that giant of a guard who had been in the forest with Earl Geoffrey and who was now posted in the anteroom to keep us apart.

‘You’re for it this time, bone-breaker,’ he smirked confidently and cracked his knuckles like a schoolboy bully. ‘You can count your days in digits.’

‘As God is my witness, my lord,’ I replied, ‘I truly do not know what injury you think I have done you. But be assured, I will not flinch from my duty. Whatever you may do to me I will tell all I know before I expire.’

It was a bold threat and I meant every word of it though I had no idea if I would ever be able to carry it out. The only effect it seemed to have on de Saye was to increase his smirk further.

Not much could be gleaned through the thick oak door of Samson’s study but the rising and falling of voices made it plain that the two men inside were having what I believe in diplomatic circles is known as a lively exchange of views. Ten minutes later the door burst open and Earl Geoffrey stormed out, his face livid with anger, and with a flick of his glove he signalled to the guard to follow him and to bring de Saye. His stride, I noticed with awe, had if anything increased in length. He didn’t acknowledge me as he stormed past, for which oversight I was deeply grateful.

In a moment the whirlwind had disappeared down the stairs and I was left alone in the calm after the storm with the inevitable gaggle of bewildered petitioners peeping out from the shadows like rabbits after a squall. Through the open door of his study I could glimpse Samson still seated behind his desk, his face, too, as black as thunder. When he saw me his eyes narrowed and he beckoned me in with one fat forefinger.

*

‘I cannot trust you out of my sight for five minutes, can I Walter?’ he growled when I had closed the door.

‘I’m sorry to have displeased you yet again, Father Abbot.’

I glanced at Jocelin who was in his usual position just behind Samson’s shoulder. He looked traumatized, poor old thing, his face as white as a sheet. He must already have been with Samson when Earl Geoffrey burst in and started ranting.

‘You were supposed to spend a few quiet days in Thetford for prayer and contemplation, not brawl on the forest floor with a member of one of our leading noble families. It was with the greatest difficulty I managed to persuade Earl Geoffrey not to have you publicly horse-whipped for your insolence.’

My mouth dropped open in astonishment. ‘It was de Saye who attacked me, father, not I him.’

Samson waved aside my protest. ‘When will you learn the realities of life, Walter? The likes of Geoffrey de Saye are never in the wrong. It was only the fact that you are in holy orders that I was able to persuade his nephew the Justiciar to leave the matter with me, for which you can give your thanks and prayers to Saint Thomas of Canterbury.’

He was referring, as I knew, to Becket’s battles with King Henry over the rights of the clergy to sit in judgement of their own and for which dispute he had been martyred – not the happiest of comparisons in the circumstances. Jocelin looked as though he might launch into a detailed explanation of the reference but Samson waved him silent. ‘Just sit down the pair of you. You’re giving me a crick in my neck.’

We each pulled up a chair while Samson went over to a side table and poured three goblets of wine. I took mine gratefully not having eaten or drunk anything since early morning. Samson sat down again and with a flourish produced a parchment from beneath a pile on his desk.

‘This is what it’s all been about.’

It took me a moment to recognise the document, but when I did my jaw dropped again. Despite his anger Samson chuckled. ‘Never play dice with a con-man, Walter. He will read you like a book. You know, of course, what it is? Yes, I can see from your expression that you do.’

‘Isaac’s testament,’ I said pointing stupidly at it. Jocelin and I were the only ones who were supposed to know about it. I shot him an accusing look but he just shrugged and shook his head evidently as dumbfounded as I was. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘Not from you, obviously,’ retorted Samson sharply. ‘Even though you had it in your possession when I asked you for it on several occasions, and then denied the fact. Before, that is, you managed to lose it.’

‘I didn’t lose it,’ I protested feebly. ‘It was stolen from me. And I never actually
denied
having it specifically. I just never admitted it, that’s all.’

Samson shook his head disdainfully. ‘Well, it was fortunate that others were ahead of you and managed to spirit it away before it fell into de Saye’s hands. For believe me, if he had been the one who’d taken it, it would not be sitting here on my desk now. He’d have destroyed it.’

‘Because it’s a loan bond issued to him by Isaac ben Moy.’ I was guessing, but I was sure now that was what it must be. But who had taken it? Presumably the same person who had saved me in the forest today as well as being my elusive shadow, my guardian angel, over the past few days. That could only be one person, surely?

Jocelin had already picked up the document and was scrutinizing it closely. ‘It is a bond,’ he confirmed, and then he whistled through his teeth. ‘F-for an extremely l-large sum of m-money.’

Samson nodded. ‘Which de Saye never had any intention of repaying and which was why Moy gave it to you for safe keeping – a grosser case of misplaced trust there can hardly ever have been.’             

Samson’s slight went unheeded for into my mind once again had reared the story Isaac had told me about the Jews in York. They too, I remembered, had granted loans to noble families and the documents relating to them had been burnt on the floor of York Minster so that there was no record that they ever existed. It was all making sense now, even down to his suicide pact with his wife. He reckoned to be in the same hopeless position as those wretched people in York castle and saw for himself and his family the same terrible solution.

‘Hold one moment, though,’ I said frowning and trying to remember something. ‘I thought it no longer mattered about these documents. Jocelin, you told me in the light of the York massacre that King Richard had passed some law requiring loans to be officially recorded.’

Jocelin nodded. ‘
The Ordinance of the Jewry
, it was called. B-but that law wasn’t passed until eleven-ninety-four.’ He tapped Isaac’s document. ‘This is dated eleven-ninety-two.’

‘So this is the only existing record of the loan,’ I nodded. ‘And that is why de Saye would want it destroyed.’ Then another thought struck me. ‘That must be why de Saye is here in Bury.’ I said it to myself but loud enough for the others to hear. ‘He came in order to get Isaac to hand it over.’ My mind was racing now. ‘And that was the reason he killed Matthew.’ I slapped my forehead. ‘Of course!’

Jocelin looked at me in horror nearly dropping his goblet. ‘D-de Saye killed M-m-m-matthew?’ he stammered.

I’d done it again, not given Jocelin a vital piece of information. ‘I’m sorry brother. Until this minute I couldn’t be sure.’ I turned to Samson. ‘But I can see from Father Abbot’s face that he already knew that Isaac had no involvement in the murder. In fact he knew all along, before the trial, before the ordeal by hot water. Was that why you didn’t wish to witness it? Because you couldn’t bear to see the consequences of your duplicity?’

Jocelin was clearly disturbed by this sudden rush of revelations. He looked beseechingly at Samson who at least had the good grace to lower his eyes. ‘Not duplicity, Walter. That implies disloyalty. And the one thing I have been throughout all this is loyal.’

I shook my head incredulously. ‘You allowed an innocent man to be tortured, reviled and persecuted to the point where he preferred to take his own life and that of his wife rather than have it stolen from him by the hangman, and you call that being loyal?’

Samson shifted awkwardly on his chair and this time his discomfort had nothing to do with his haemorrhoids. ‘He wouldn’t have hanged,’ he muttered shifting papers about nervously on his desk. ‘I’d have commuted his sentence.’

‘Well, he cheated you out of that satisfaction, at least.’

‘I had no choice,’ grumbled Samson. ‘There were other matters to consider. Important matters you know nothing about.’

I snorted contemptuously. ‘Like what? What could possibly be more important than harrying an innocent family
to death?’

He grimaced again, his bushy white eyebrows almost knitting together in what was a clear agony of conscience. ‘Matters of state. State
security.
’

‘Indeed? Then tell us, good father,’ I goaded. ‘Let us all into the secret. What are these “great matters” that are so important you could connive at persecution, torture
and murder?’

My words must have hit their mark. He hesitated for a minute glaring at me as though wishing to throttle me, then he set his jaw.

‘Brother Jocelin,’ he said quietly. ‘Would you mind leaving us? I’m sorry – please obey me in this and ask no questions. I will explain later.’

Jocelin’s face was drained of colour, sadder and more confused than I had ever seen it before. But ever the good and faithful servant he did as his mentor asked. He got up without another word and left the room closing the heavy oak door after him.

*

When he had gone Samson turned his pained face towards me. ‘I took no pleasure in doing that but you left me no alternative. Oh, I know what the other monks say about Jocelin, that he is a fussy old maid and a sycophant. But he has been a loyal servant and friend to me over many years. I feel I have betrayed him.’

‘I am sorry indeed for that, father,’ I said sincerely. ‘Personally, I would have been happy for Jocelin to stay. If only to corroborate my version of events.’

Samson slammed his hand down on the desk, his expression angry. ‘You think this is about you? Such arrogance! If I am prepared to imperil my immortal soul by covering up the murder of an innocent child and colluding in the suicide of two others, do you think I would blink before throwing you to the lions too?’

The ferocity of his outburst took me aback. But it confirmed what I had already suspected, that he was indeed deeply troubled over the actions he had taken in recent days. That did not excuse what he had done but it did go some way to mollifying my fears for the safety of his soul. For that at least I was glad.

After a moment he’d calmed down sufficiently to regain command of himself. ‘You want to know what matters are so important that I am prepared to sacrifice innocent lives. Very well, I’ll tell you. But knowledge is a dangerous thing, Walter. Are you prepared to have it? Are you prepared to keep it and not to let it travel beyond these four walls? Because on peril of your life you had better be.’

He got up and refilled our two goblets with wine before sitting down again with a weary sigh.