Otto Von Habsburg

by C. J. Sansom

  Just ahead the platform was level with the top of the rood screen. It ran from one side of the nave to the other, seven feet wide with, on the top, the statues at which I had previously peered from ground level. From there they had appeared quite small, but now, glancing at the dim figures through the gloom, I saw they were life-sized.

  Cautiously, carefully gripping the rail, I moved down the platform past the screen. The rail creaked with every few steps and once I felt it wobble under my hand. I told myself that the mason and his men clattered along safely whenever they worked up here, but could not help wondering whether the blocks crashing over might have weakened it.

  Across the church I made out Mark moving slowly along in parallel. He raised his sword and I waved my staff in acknowledgement. Between us, now, we must have the killer trapped. I gripped the staff hard. My legs had begun trembling and I cursed at them to be still.

  I moved steadily on, staring ahead into the gloom. Nothing. No sound. As I approached the top of the church the walkway bent round in a half-circle, and a few moments later Mark and I were staring at each other, standing fifty feet apart at either end of the presbytery. And between us nothing, nobody. He looked at me incredulously.

  ‘He came this way, I saw him,’ he called.

  ‘Then where is he? There’s nobody this end of the church. You must have been mistaken, he must have headed down the other way, towards the door.’ I stared back the way I had come, past the rood screen to where the end of the walkway was lost in the darkness.

  ‘I’d swear on my life he came this way, I’d swear it.’

  ‘All right.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Keep calm. If he’s down the other end of the church we still have him. No one has gone down the stairs, we would have heard. We’ll go back to the other end.’

  ‘Perhaps we should go down. One of us could fetch help.’

  ‘No, it’s hard to keep an eye on both staircases at once, in a place this size he could slip away if he gets down.’

  We took a parallel course once more, back the way we had come. My eyes were sore from peering intently ahead. As I passed the rood screen with its statues, something nagged at my mind. I was well past before it came to me: there had been the usual three statues: St John the Disciple, Our Lord and the Virgin. But there was a fourth as well.

  Even as I paused and turned something whistled through the air and struck the wall beside me. A dagger clattered onto the walkway at my feet as I turned, realizing that what I had taken for the middle statue was in fact a living man in Benedictine habit. Even now a dim figure was clambering over the railing onto the walkway. I turned and ran towards him, but my foot caught in the mesh of the walkway and I fell forward onto the railing. For a second my head and shoulders hung out over the nave and I stared terrified over the drop, then I managed to haul myself upright. The figure had gone. I heard footsteps clattering down the stairs.

  ‘Mark!’ I called. ‘This side! He’s escaping!’

  Mark was some distance ahead and by the time he had run back to the top of the stairs on the far side the monk had descended. I heard footsteps pattering away; he ran beside the wall on my side, making it impossible to see him. I ran down the stairs and arrived at the bottom just as Mark appeared opposite. In the distance the church door slammed shut.

  ‘He was standing on the rood screen, with the statues!’ I shouted. ‘Did you see who it was? He was gone in a flash.’

  ‘No, sir, he was down on the stairs by the time I reached you.’ He stared up at the screen. ‘He must have climbed out on the screen as we were going up the stairs. God’s wounds, he must have courage to stand up there with no rail or support.’

  ‘Hoping reformers would instinctively avert their eyes from statuary. He’s got away.’ I looked at the dagger I had picked up from the walkway. A sharp, unornamented weapon of steel. No clue there. I banged my fist on the wall, sending a wave of pain shooting up my arm.

  ‘But, sir, what about Gabriel? Did you not think him the killer after all? What did you find in the hidden passage?’

  I hesitated. ‘I was mistaken, completely mistaken. He had no secrets. And now someone else has died because of me. Despite my prayers,’ I added, looking angrily up at the roof for a moment. ‘But I swear he shall be the last.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  I HAD ORDERED the four surviving senior obedentiaries to the church. Abbot Fabian, Prior Mortimus, Brother Edwig and Brother Guy stood with Mark and me in the nave as servants hauled lumps of stone from Gabriel’s body. Strangely, I found I could bear the terrible sight, a shocked, numbed feeling had descended on me. I watched the obedentiaries’ reactions: Brother Guy and Prior Mortimus stood impassive, Brother Edwig wrinkled his face with distaste, Abbot Fabian turned away and vomited into the aisle.

  I ordered them to accompany me to Gabriel’s little office, where stacks of books for copying sat on the floor, and the broken statue of the Virgin still leaned mournfully against the wall. I asked them where the monks had been an hour before, when the stone fell.

  ‘All over the precinct,’ Prior Mortimus replied. ‘It’s recreation hour. Not many would be out in this weather, most would be in their cells.’

  ‘Jerome? Is he safe?’

  ‘Locked in his cell since yesterday.’

  ‘And you four. Where were you?’

  Brother Guy said he had been studying alone in his dispensary; Prior Mortimus had been in his office, again alone. Brother Edwig told me his two assistants would verify he had been in the counting house, while Abbot Fabian had been giving his steward instructions. I sat looking at them; even those with alibis could not be trusted, those who served them could be persuaded or threatened to lie. The same would be true of any alibis the monks gave each other. I could question every single servant and monk in the place, but how long would that take and where would it get me? I suddenly felt helpless.

  ‘So Gabriel saved you?’ Prior Mortimus broke the silence.

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘With respect, sir, why should he give his life for you?’

  ‘Perhaps it is not so surprising. I think he had been led to believe his own life was of little worth.’ I stared hard at the prior.

  ‘Then I hope his act is helping him now at his judgement. He had many sins to weigh in the balance.’

  ‘Perhaps not such great matters in God’s eyes.’

  There was a hesitant knock at the door, and the frightened face of a monk appeared.

  ‘Pray pardon, there is a letter for the commissioner from Justice Copynger. The messenger says it is urgent.’

  ‘Very well. Gentlemen, stay here for now. Mark, come with me.’

  AS WE MARCHED down the church we saw Gabriel’s body had been removed; two of the servants were washing the flags; steam rose from the hot water as they swabbed away the blood. When we opened the door a sea of faces looked at us, monks and servants, all murmuring anxiously. Grey clouds of breath issued from fifty mouths. I saw Brother Athelstan, his eyes alight with curiosity, and Brother Septimus staring round in bewildered anxiety, wringing his hands. At the sight of us, Brother Jude called on the crowd to clear a way. We strode through them, led by the monk who had fetched us. At the gatehouse Bugge stood holding a letter, his sharp little eyes full of curiosity.

  ‘The messenger said it was most urgent, Commissioner, I hope you’ll forgive the interruption. Is it true Brother Gabriel’s been killed in an accident in the church?’

  ‘No, Master Bugge, it was no accident. He died saving my life from a murderer.’ I took the letter and walked away, halting in the centre of the courtyard. I felt safer away from high walls just then.

  ‘That’ll be all over the precinct in an hour,’ Mark said.

  ‘Good. The time for secrecy is over.’ I broke the seal and read the single sheet. I bit my lip anxiously.

  ‘Copynger has begun his enquiries. He’s ordered Sir Edward and another local landowner named in that book to attend him. Messages have come back
saying they’re cut off on their estates because of the snow, but if a messenger can get in they can get out, so he’s sent for them again. This smacks of delaying tactics. These people have things to hide.’

  ‘You could confront Brother Edwig now.’

  ‘I don’t want that slippery eel saying it was all just exercises and projections. I want to confront him with hard evidence. But I won’t have it by tomorrow, or the day after – not at this rate.’ I folded the letter. ‘Mark, who could have known we were going to the church this morning? I told you by the pond. Remember I said we must go to the church.’

  ‘Prior Mortimus was there, but he was walking away.’

  ‘Perhaps he has sharp ears, like yours. The point is, no one else knew we were going. Assuming, that is, that someone did go up there to lie in wait for me.’

  He thought. ‘But how would anyone know you would come to rest just under those blocks of stone?’

  ‘You’re right. Oh God, I cannot think straight.’ I kneaded my brow with my fingers. ‘All right. What if our killer was up on that walkway for a different reason? What if he just took the opportunity to rid the world of me when I paused where I did?’

  ‘But why would anyone go up there? There aren’t even any works going on.’

  ‘Who would know most about the works now Gabriel is dead?’

  ‘Prior Mortimus is in charge of the daily running of the house.’

  ‘I think I will talk to him.’ I paused, folding the letter away. ‘But first, Mark, there is something I must tell you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I looked at him seriously. ‘That letter you took to Copynger about the land sales. I asked him also to find out if there were any boats going to London. It would take a week to cross the Weald in these snows, but after that letter of Jerome’s I need to see Cromwell. It occurred to me there might be a boat going and there is; one is leaving on the afternoon tide with a cargo of hops. It should arrive in London in two days, returning the day after. If we’re lucky with the weather I’ll be away four days. I mustn’t miss the chance. And I want you to stay here.’

  ‘But should you leave now?’

  I paced up and down. ‘I have to take this opportunity. Remember, the king doesn’t know what’s been going on here. If Jerome got any other letters out and the king saw them, Cromwell could be in trouble. I don’t want to go, but I must. And there’s something else. Remember that sword?’

  ‘The one in the pond?’

  ‘It had a maker’s mark. Swords like that are made to order. If I can find the maker, I should be able to find whom he made it for. And it’s the only lead I have now.’

  ‘Except to question Brother Edwig when we have evidence about the land sales.’

  ‘Yes. You know, I cannot see Brother Edwig working with an accomplice. He seems too self-contained.’

  Mark hesitated. ‘Brother Guy could have killed Singleton. He’s stringy, but looks fit enough, and he’s tall.’

  ‘He could, but why him particularly?’

  ‘The hidden passage, sir. He could so easily have slipped away that night and gained access to the kitchen. He wouldn’t have needed a key.’

  I kneaded my brow again. ‘Any of them could have done it. The evidence all points in different ways. I need more; I pray I find it in London. But I need a presence here; I want you to move into the abbot’s house. Check the letters, keep an eye on what’s happening.’

  He gave me a sharp look. ‘You want me away from Alice.’

  ‘I want you safe away from the precincts, like old Dr Goodhaps. You can take his room, it’s a finely appointed place for someone of your age to sit in state.’ I sighed. ‘And yes, I would prefer you away from Alice. I have spoken to her, I have told her that involvement with you could damage your prospects.’

  ‘You had no right, sir,’ he said with sudden vehemence. ‘I have the right to decide my own path.’

  ‘No, Mark, you do not. You have obligations, to your family and to your own future. I order you to move to the abbot’s house.’

  I saw ice in the wide blue eyes that had captivated poor Gabriel. ‘I have seen you look lustfully after her yourself,’ he said, and there was contempt in his voice.

  ‘I control myself.’

  He looked me up and down. ‘You have no choice.’

  I set my teeth. ‘I should kick your arse out on the road for that. I wish I did not need you here while I am away, but I do. Well, are you going to do as I say?’

  ‘I shall do all I can to help you catch the man who has killed these people. He should be hanged. But I make no promise for what I do afterwards, though you disown me utterly.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I am minded to ask Alice Fewterer for her hand.’

  ‘Then I may have to disown you,’ I replied quietly. ‘By God’s flesh I would not, but I cannot ask Lord Cromwell to take back a man married to a servant girl. That would be impossible.’

  He did not answer. I knew in my heart that if it came to the worst, even after what he had said, I would take him as a clerk; find him and Alice a room in London. But I would not make it easy for him. I met his gaze with a look as steely as his own.

  ‘Pack a bag for me,’ I ordered curtly. ‘And saddle Chancery. I think the road is clear enough to ride to town. I will see the prior now, then leave for London.’ I walked away; I would have wished for his company in tackling Prior Mortimus, but after what had passed we were better apart.

  THE OBEDENTIARIES were still in Gabriel’s office, as dejected a group as I had ever seen. It struck me how disconnected they were from each other; the abbot in his increasingly fragile haughtiness, Guy’s lonely austerity, the prior and the bursar the ones who kept the place functioning and yet, I sensed again, not friends. So much for spiritual brotherhood.

  ‘You should know, Brothers, I am going to London. I need to report to Lord Cromwell. I will be back in about five days and Mark Poer is to deputize till I return.’

  ‘How can ye get there and back in five days?’ Prior Mortimus asked. ‘They say these snows reach to Bristol.’

  ‘I am taking a boat.’

  ‘What have you to discuss with Lord Cromwell?’ Abbot Fabian asked nervously.

  ‘Private matters. Now, I have let it be known how Brother Gabriel died. And I have decided Orphan Stonegarden’s body should be delivered to Goodwife Stumpe for burial. Please arrange it.’

  ‘But then the town will know she died here.’ The abbot frowned, as though he was finding it hard to puzzle things out.

  ‘Yes. Matters have gone too far now for secrecy about that.’

  He raised his head and looked at me with a touch of his old haughty manner.

  ‘I must protest, Master Shardlake. Surely such a matter, affecting everybody here, should have been discussed with me first, as abbot.’

  ‘Those days are done, my lord,’ I said shortly. ‘Now you may all go, except Prior Mortimus.’

  They passed out, the abbot giving me a vacant, puzzled look as he went. I folded my arms and faced the prior. I dragged reserves of mental energy from somewhere, I know not where.

  ‘I have been considering, Brother, who knew I was coming to the church. You were there, by the pond, when I told my assistant.’

  He laughed incredulously. ‘I had left you.’

  I studied him, but could see only angry puzzlement. ‘Yes, you had. Then the person who pushed the stone was not lying in wait for me at all, but had another purpose. Who could have had reason to go up there?’

  ‘Nobody, not till the works are agreed upon.’

  ‘I would like you to accompany me back to the walkway to take another look.’ I had remembered the missing relic, the gold that must be concealed somewhere if I was right about the land sales. Could they be hidden somewhere up there, was that why the killer had been on the walkway?

  ‘As ye like, Commissioner.’

  I led the way to the stairs and mounted again. My heart pounded as we came out on the walkway. Down below the servants were still cle
aning, squeezing reddened mops into pails of water. This is what a man comes to. I was overcome with sudden nausea and clutched at the rail.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Prior Mortimus stood a couple of paces off. It suddenly occurred to me that if he should choose to seize me, he was stronger than I: I should have brought Mark.

  I waved him away. ‘Yes. Let us proceed.’

  I looked at the little heap of tools where the blocks of stone had been, the workmen’s basket suspended from its cradle of ropes.

  ‘How long is it since any work was done here?’

  ‘The ropes and basket went up two months ago, so the workmen could get to the statue, which was in a perilous state, remove it and examine the crack. That basket suspended from the wall and the tower by moveable ropes is an ingenious arrangement; the mason devised it. They’d hardly begun when Brother Edwig ordered the work stopped; he was right, Gabriel shouldn’t have started before the programme was approved. Then he dragged his heels to show Gabriel who was in charge.’

  I looked at the mesh of ropes. ‘A dangerous task.’

  He shrugged. ‘Scaffolding would be safer, but can you imagine the bursar approving the cost?’

  ‘You do not like Brother Edwig,’ I ventured casually.

  ‘He’s like a fat wee ferret, hunting out pennies wherever he can.’

  ‘Does he consult you much about the monastery finances?’ I watched him carefully, but his shrug was casual.

  ‘He consults no one but my lord Abbot, though he wastes my time and everyone else’s making them account for every last farthing.’

  ‘I see.’ I turned away and looked up at the bell tower. ‘How do you reach the bells?’

  ‘There’s another staircase leading up from the ground floor. I can take ye up if ye wish. I doubt the works will be continued now. Gabriel’s lost that one by getting himself killed.’