The Falconer's Knot: A Story of Friars, Flirtation and Foul Play

by Mary Hoffman

  But something worse was happening. All the brothers were looking at one another with doubt and distrust. And the rumours about Brother Anselmo grew. His early romantic entanglement with Monna Isabella now seemed to have become common gossip, making him the chief suspect for her husband’s death.

  No one had come up with a reason why he might have wanted to kill the Guest Master but Silvano heard more than one friar talking about how Anselmo had been the only one who knew what was wrong with Landolfo.

  ‘That makes no sense,’ he objected whenever he heard such gossip. ‘Brother Anselmo was helping Rufino look after Landolfo. Why would he have done that if he had poisoned him?’

  Silvano went to seek Anselmo out and eventually found him praying in the chapel where Landolfo’s body lay. Silvano slipped on to a bench beside him and waited. He was appalled when he saw the face that Anselmo at last lifted from his hands; his mentor seemed to have aged years in the last half hour.

  They left the chapel together in silence until Silvano dared to ask, ‘How is it with you, Brother?’

  ‘I am close to the sin of despair,’ said Anselmo. ‘There is a spirit of evil at work in this house that threatens to engulf us all.’

  ‘You think it is the same person who killed Ubaldo?’

  ‘How can it be otherwise?’ said Anselmo wearily. ‘It is bad enough to think that Satan has entered the heart of one of our brothers – I can’t believe there are two.’

  As they crossed the yard, Brother Anselmo noticed for the first time that other friars, who were loitering in groups of two and three, were looking at him and turning away as he passed.

  ‘What does this mean?’ he asked Silvano.

  ‘I think that your history with Monna Isabella has become known,’ said Silvano, embarrassed.

  Anselmo stopped and looked at him.

  ‘And how would that have happened?’ he asked. ‘I have told no one but Father Bonsignore and yourself.’

  Silvano felt terrible. ‘I didn’t tell them, I swear to you, Brother.’

  ‘I don’t doubt you, Silvano,’ said Anselmo. ‘And I would swear it was not the Abbot. But that means that there was someone else who knew.’

  ‘I have told them that you had no reason to kill Brother Landolfo,’ said Silvano hopelessly.

  ‘No reason in the world,’ said Anselmo passing his hand over his forehead. ‘He was my brother in Christ and I loved him. But perhaps they will say that it was Landolfo who knew my past and I wanted to silence him.’

  Suddenly he turned on his heel and took Silvano by the sleeve.

  ‘Let us visit the sisters,’ he said. ‘I know that the Abbot will not doubt me but I should speak to the Abbess before any rumours reach her.’

  The painters were still with the Abbess in her cell, along with Sister Veronica and Chiara, when the friars arrived. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Silvano could not help noticing that Chiara looked very pretty. Her hair, which had started to grow again, was escaping from under her veil and framing her face like one of Simone’s burnished haloes. He saw that Simone was also casting covert glances at the young novice and he wondered for the first time if the painter were a married man.

  ‘So it is true,’ said Mother Elena. ‘The Guest Master was deliberately poisoned.’

  ‘I think so, Mother,’ said Brother Anselmo. ‘I was explaining – was it only this morning, Silvano? – why I don’t make certain pigments in the colour room because they contain arsenikon. I have seen its effects in other places where I have worked on the colours and I recognised them in Landolfo.’

  ‘Was that why Brother Rufino called for sulphur?’ asked Pietro.

  ‘Yes, but I could see it was too late. Landolfo must have taken a huge dose for it to kill him so quickly.’

  ‘So it was in his food?’ asked the Abbess.

  ‘Either that or his drink,’ said Anselmo. ‘But he drank very little – every brother knew that.’

  ‘Every brother?’ said the Abbess. ‘So you think it was one of your house that killed him?’

  Anselmo did not answer.

  ‘Forgive me but wouldn’t Brother Landolfo have tasted the poison in his food?’ asked Chiara.

  ‘The dishes were rich and highly spiced today,’ said Anselmo.

  ‘So it was Landolfo’s dish alone that carried the poison?’ said the Abbess. ‘The arsenikon was not in the serving dishes that came from the kitchen?’

  The men all tried to remember the details of the midday meal.

  ‘None of us has suffered any ill effects,’ said Simone. ‘Even those who ate without restraint,’ he added, looking at Pietro.

  ‘I must tell you that I am under suspicion,’ said Brother Anselmo quietly, looking round the little group. ‘And I must ask that you don’t disclose that to anyone outside this room.’

  ‘But why you, Brother?’ asked Sister Veronica, appalled.

  ‘Why any of us?’ asked Anselmo. He spread his palms, resigned. ‘No one wants to think that any follower of Our Lord and Saint Francis would plan to take another man’s life. But some of the brothers believe they have found a reason that I might have wanted to kill the merchant.’

  Silvano and Chiara exchanged glances. Brother Anselmo didn’t say what the reason was but continued, ‘And now that there has been another death my name is being linked to both.’

  ‘That is ridiculous,’ said Mother Elena immediately. ‘You are our priest and our spiritual adviser and I would stake my life you are no killer.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Anselmo. ‘In days to come I may be glad to number those who think so against my accusers.’

  ‘Are we in any danger here, Brother?’ asked the Abbess.

  ‘I fear we are all in danger,’ said Anselmo. ‘Since Landolfo was a man of God with a sweet nature, he had no enemies. We can only assume that his attacker was insane. And if there is a lunatic at large in the friary, he could strike at any one of us.’

  ‘This is appalling,’ said Simone. ‘How are we to continue painting pictures to the Glory of God in Assisi while the Devil works in secret so nearby?’

  ‘It is in all our interests to find the wrongdoer as soon as possible,’ said Anselmo. ‘In the meantime I shall suggest to Father Bonsignore that we keep a guard here on the convent gate.’

  Isabella was enduring a most unpleasant interview with her brother-in-law Umberto. He was furious that she had appointed the Abbot of the place where Ubaldo died to be her legal representative.

  ‘It is an insult to my brother’s memory,’ he fumed. ‘That man might have been involved in his death for all we know.’

  ‘Hardly,’ said Isabella. ‘He is a man of God.’

  ‘So are they all in that place,’ said Umberto. ‘And yet one of them minced my brother’s organs with his own dagger.’

  Isabella winced. ‘It was an intruder,’ she said.

  ‘So they say. But nothing was taken – no money or jewels. That does not sound like the work of a casual intruder to me.’

  ‘I have no father or brother to act for me,’ she said, as calmly as she could.

  ‘But you have a brother under the law,’ said Umberto. ‘And I had already offered my services.’

  ‘I did not think that you would place my concerns first,’ said Isabella.

  ‘Quite right,’ snapped Umberto. ‘My brother’s children come first.’

  ‘That is something that we can agree on, at least,’ said Isabella. ‘But after them, I have decisions to make about my own life. And Father Bonsignore was kind to me.’

  ‘So you prefer a doddering old friar who gave you a few sad smiles to a member of your own family?’

  ‘If he did smile at me, that is more than you have ever done,’ said Isabella.

  ‘And what is there to smile at? A vain, arr
ogant, stubborn woman, who thinks that because she ensnared a man once with her looks she can play on them for the rest of her life? Believe me, the days of your beauty are fast approaching their end.’

  ‘Are you accusing me of seducing the Abbot of Giardinetto?’ said Isabella coldly, though a hot rage flowed in her veins.

  ‘Anything is possible,’ said Umberto sourly. ‘I shall certainly investigate the Abbot and friars of that house now that you have put your business in their hands.’

  Isabella could not help herself; she felt the colour leave her face. And Umberto noticed.

  ‘It seems you do have something to hide at Giardinetto,’ he said with bitter satisfaction. ‘Trust me, I shall get to the bottom of it.’

  And with that he stormed out of the room.

  Father Bonsignore agreed with Anselmo’s idea of mounting a guard on the convent and asked him and Silvano to take the first watch.

  The artists rode back to Assisi, deep in conversation.

  ‘We cannot expect much ultramarine from Giardinetto in the near future,’ said Pietro.

  ‘No, nor much of any colour,’ said Simone. ‘At least not until they have found their murderer.’

  ‘Well, it’s not the Colour Master, I’ll wager,’ said Pietro. ‘I’m with Mother Elena on that.’

  ‘And I,’ said Simone.

  They travelled in silence for a while.

  ‘I saw you looking at the little novice,’ said Pietro.

  ‘Isn’t she perfect?’ asked Simone.

  Pietro had been his friend for a long time and he knew that Simone was a confirmed bachelor, who took little interest in women unless he had an ulterior motive.

  ‘And what character does she suggest in your cycle?’ he asked.

  Simone laughed. ‘You know me too well. I have to fill the entrance wall, in the archway to the chapel, and I want to put some saints there. I think she would make a perfect model for Saint Clare.’

  ‘Too pretty for a saint,’ said Pietro. ‘Especially one who lived such an ascetic life as the friend of Saint Francis.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Simone. ‘Clare was a rich lady from a distinguished family. And she chose to renounce the world. Why should she not have been pretty? Surely there would have been less merit in closing herself away if she had been ill-favoured?’

  ‘But a saint might have a beautiful soul without having a beautiful face,’ suggested Pietro.

  ‘As might someone less holy than a saint,’ agreed Simone.

  ‘And perhaps a pleasing countenance might conceal a wicked heart?’

  ‘You are thinking of the friary, Pietro,’ said Simone. ‘We seem to come back to that, whatever we do to escape it. It is a festering sore and we must help them to heal it.’

  Anselmo and Silvano kept guard on the convent gate but each knew that if the murderer of Brother Landolfo came from inside the friary they would not know how to recognise a danger to the sisters if one of their brothers asked for admission.

  They used the time alone to go through all the members of their house and pool any information they had that might throw light on the murders.

  ‘We can leave out the Abbot, I suppose,’ said Silvano.

  ‘No. We cannot leave out anyone, not even ourselves,’ insisted Anselmo. ‘We must look dispassionately at what we know about each brother. Separate facts from feelings.’

  ‘Well, I know that Father Bonsignore is an old friend of my father’s,’ said Silvano. ‘And he has been kind to me. He never doubted that I was innocent of the murder in Perugia.’

  ‘That is something else we should consider,’ said Anselmo. ‘Whether that murder can be in any way linked to the ones here. But to return to the Abbot, he knew about your situation and also about my history, though not all the details until after the merchant Ubaldo was dead. These are facts. But like you, I have never had anything but kindness from him.’

  ‘So perhaps he told someone? Or maybe someone overheard him talking to you or me?’

  ‘It is possible. But let us move on to ourselves. I had a motive to kill the merchant and I know how to get hold of arsenikon. I do use a little in the colour room to make colours for Brother Fazio. These are bad marks against my name.’

  ‘And I came here fleeing from the charge of stabbing so that makes me a good suspect for Ubaldo. But not for Brother Landolfo. Why would I want to kill the Guest Master?’

  ‘Why would anyone? I have no motive either, even though I could have found the means.’

  ‘What about Brother Fazio? He uses the orpiment and realgar,’ said Silvano.

  ‘Indeed, he has as much access to arsenikon as I do,’ said Anselmo. ‘More perhaps. But no reason to carry out either of the killings here.’

  ‘As far as we know,’ said Silvano.

  ‘That is the point,’ said Anselmo. ‘The killer’s reasons might be hidden in his past. Or as I said before, he might be lacking in reason altogether, completely insane.’

  ‘Well, let’s carry on,’ said Silvano. ‘What about Brother Rufino? He found the merchant and treated Brother Landolfo. Could he be the one?’

  ‘If we continue to look at the facts, yes. But you saw how he tried to save Landolfo. I can’t believe it’s the Infirmarian.’

  ‘The Herbalist then,’ suggested Silvano. ‘Valentino. He would have access to poisonous plants, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Probably, though not arsenikon. He’d be more likely to poison with belladonna.’

  ‘Do you know anything else about him?’

  ‘No, not really. He’s a quiet, pleasant companion and I believe him to be a devout friar.’

  ‘This is hopeless,’ said Silvano. ‘They – we – are all devout friars and friendly people. Perhaps we should start with the least pleasant?’

  ‘Well, Brother Nardo can be a bit surly,’ said Anselmo dubiously.

  ‘The Cellarer? Yes, I’ve noticed that. And Brother Gregorio, the Lector, is very strict. Though he has been good to me.’

  ‘And I think Monaldo, the Librarian, resented me when I arrived,’ said Anselmo. ‘He is a scholar, like Gregorio, and I think they both feared I might intrude on their territory. But there has been no difficulty with them since.’

  ‘We’ve left out Brother Ranieri,’ said Silvano. ‘Though I can’t think that the Novice Master would be a killer.’

  ‘We are treading in circles,’ said Anselmo. ‘The killer must be one of us yet none of us seems like a killer.’

  ‘Then we must start at a different end,’ said Silvano. ‘We’ve agreed that we know of no one with a reason to kill either Ubaldo or Landolfo . . .’

  ‘Except possibly me in the first case,’ objected Anselmo.

  ‘All right, but leaving you aside . . . I think we should look at opportunity. Ubaldo first.’

  ‘Well that’s me again,’ said Anselmo. ‘I was out walking in the garden. But I could be lying.’

  ‘I was out of bed myself, coming to see you. Then there’s Rufino.’

  ‘Almost any brother could have been out of his cell.’

  ‘But no one was missing from the dormitory except me,’ said Silvano, excitedly. ‘So that rules out all the younger brothers and the novices.’

  ‘We hadn’t begun to consider them anyway,’ said Anselmo. ‘That still leaves about a dozen, including you, me and the Abbot.’

  ‘Well, let’s for the time being rule out those three and we are down to eight or nine. We could try to investigate them.’

  ‘What about Brother Landolfo’s murder? Who had that opportunity?’

  ‘You, Brother Fazio and perhaps Brother Valentino, if it was a plant poison instead of arsenikon,’ said Silvano. ‘But that’s only the people who we know could get hold of poison. What about putting it in Landolfo’s dish?’

 
‘Then Bertuccio is the obvious person,’ said Anselmo. ‘As cook, he had the best opportunity.’

  ‘Brother Nardo could have put it in the wine,’ said Silvano. ‘And Brother Fazio sits next to Landolfo so he could have put poison in his dish.’

  They had been discussing the crimes so intently that they had not noticed Chiara coming up to them with a basket of food.

  ‘Mother Elena sent me with some refreshment for you,’ she said, unpacking bread, cheese and a flask of wine.

  ‘Thank you, Sister Orsola,’ said Anselmo. ‘You must think us very inadequate guards since we didn’t hear you approach.’

  ‘You were talking about the murders, weren’t you?’ said Chiara. ‘There is no other topic of conversation in either house tonight, I should think. Do you really think we are in danger here?’

  ‘We have been going through all the brothers and have come to no conclusion,’ said Silvano, smiling at her in spite of the question. ‘Except that Nardo can be grumpy and Gregorio and Monaldo are fond of their books.’

  He was not going to tell her that Anselmo had the most marks against him as a suspect.

  ‘I am sorry to say,’ said Anselmo, ‘that however vigilant we may be, it might take another murder before we can find the killer.’

  .

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The Onlooker

  After two murders, the Abbot of Giardinetto had no choice but to send for the head of the Franciscan Order. He felt deeply worried about what was going on and ashamed that these things were happening in a house under his charge. Pray as he might, he could see no clear way out of the morass of sin that threatened to engulf the friary.

  Several brothers had come to him to ask that Silvano or Anselmo or both should be expelled. One was known to be a murder suspect, the other had a past as the lover of the second victim’s wife. Even though the two men were liked and had been welcomed into the brotherhood, it was believed they were more likely to be responsible for the two murders than any of the other friars.