by Paul Doherty
‘Oh, yes,’ Kathryn said. ‘The magus died but his devilry didn’t, you couldn’t murder that!’
Chapter 12
Widow Dauncey glared at Kathryn, eyes glittering in her ravaged face.
‘It was an act of God,’ she declared hoarsely. ‘Tenebrae was an evil, wicked man. He lured the bait, trapped me and there was no escape. If I had married him, he would have murdered me. He was steeped in wickedness.’
‘But why Fronzac?’ Hetherington asked.
‘My second mistake,’ Dauncey murmured. ‘He left Tenebrae’s house carrying the Book of Shadows. However, before he handed it over to me, he studied it carefully.’ She laughed shortly. ‘Besides the spells, incantations and maledictions, there’s page after page of what Tenebrae knew, as well as where he had hidden his ill-gotten money. On the evening of the day Tenebrae died,’ she continued, ‘Fronzac gave the Book of Shadows to me. He said what he had learnt from it would provide him with enough wealth for the rest of his days.’ She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. ‘He also said he no longer wanted me. The next morning I had a few words with him. I begged him to reflect.’
‘And he agreed to meet you behind the hog pen?’ Kathryn intervened.
‘Yes. I slipped out of the Kestrel and went down the alley-way. Fronzac opened the gate.’ The widow looked so pained, Kathryn felt compassion for her. ‘He began to laugh,’ Dauncey said. ‘He said he’d buy a tavern like the Kestrel. I was tired: tired of Tenebrae, tired of Fronzac, tired of myself. I picked up a piece of kindling, ran after him and hit him on the back of the head. It was done before I realised. I opened the gates of the hog pen, thrust his body through then fled.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘God knows what gave me the strength or courage? I just picked him up, dragging him along the ground. The hogs were milling about. They must have smelt the blood. I then fled. I went to the goldsmith’s.’ She glanced shrewdly at Kathryn. ‘How did you know?’
‘At first I didn’t realise,’ Kathryn confessed. ‘However, once I deduced that Fronzac was involved in the murder, I knew he must have had an accomplice. It was either you or Greene, the last people to see Tenebrae. I then reflected on Fronzac’s death and your story about visiting the goldsmith. I thought how strange that a member of the great goldsmith’s guild of London should have gone to a Canterbury shop to buy her wedding ring. Secondly, if you’d bought the ring, why not take it back to the tavern with you to show your would-be husband? But, of course, you didn’t. You knew Fronzac was dead even before you returned to the tavern. And so, Mistress Dauncey, being the ever-prudent merchant, you left the ring with Master Procklehurst.’
Dauncey laid her hands flat on the table. ‘Something so small,’ she muttered. She grimaced. ‘Fronzac should not have mocked me.’
‘And Brissot?’ Colum asked.
Dauncey half smiled. ‘My life was in tatters,’ she replied. ‘And Brissot was behind it. He was Tenebrae’s little creature: his familiar, snouting in all our lives, looking for juicy morsels he could take back to his master. He suspected what I’d done. On the evening I killed him, Brissot passed me on the stairs, his fat, greasy face wreathed in smiles. “You really are the widow woman,” he whispered. “So you have lost two more husbands?” I glared back but I realised what he was saying. I wasn’t free of Tenebrae yet. Late in the evening I took the walking stick from my room and went along the gallery and tapped on his door.’ Dauncey rubbed the spittle from the corner of her mouth on the sleeve of her gown, her face now suffused with hate. ‘It was never going to end,’ she whispered. ‘Never! Brissot was waiting for me. The way he opened the door, his fat face always servile and cringing.’ She looked at Kathryn. ‘You know what I did?’
‘Yes,’ Kathryn replied. ‘Brissot’s body was slumped against the door. At first I thought he had been running from his assassin, trying to escape but then I realised, ever servile, he’d usher you into his room and turn to close the door behind him.’
‘He died differently from Fronzac,’ Dauncey interrupted harshly. ‘This time I planned it. Chattering away he was, even as he closed the door. I brought my walking cane back and swung it, one blow, that’s all it took. Brissot was dead before he slid to the floor.’ She paused and stared round the room. ‘This is a house from hell. It should be burnt from cellar to attic so not one stone is left upon another. I hated Tenebrae. Before God I swear I wish I had never met him or, like the rest of you, been lured into his trap. Fronzac should not have mocked me . . . and Brissot. Well, he was Tenebrae’s accomplice.’
Her companions stared horrified at her, unable to comprehend how this elegant, severe-looking widow could coldly perpetrate three murders.
‘I wanted to be happy before I died,’ Dauncey murmured. ‘I pursued happiness throughout all my life, chasing moonbeams. That’s what brought me to Tenebrae in the first place. I had fallen into a pit, getting ever deeper until I met Fronzac.’
Sir Raymond Hetherington got to his feet. ‘I cannot listen to any more,’ he declared, staring at Kathryn.
‘That’s right, Hetherington!’ Dauncey snapped. ‘Run like a greyhound, that’s your way isn’t it? Changing sides when it suits your whim.’
Hetherington ignored her. ‘Master Murtagh, your business with us is finished?’
Colum nodded.
‘In which case,’ Hetherington picked up his cloak and, followed by the others, left the kitchen without a farewell or a by-your-leave.
Louise Condosti, however, turned in the doorway.
‘The Book of Shadows?’ she asked.
‘Leave that to us,’ Colum replied.
The young woman nodded and followed her companions out.
‘You can all go,’ Kathryn declared. ‘Master Luberon, would you take the bailiff, Master Bogbean and Rawnose back to the Guildhall? They are to be rewarded for their services.’ She glanced down at Dauncey. ‘Send others here to help us.’
Luberon toyed with his belt. Kathryn glimpsed the hurt in his eyes.
‘Don’t worry, Simon,’ she added softly. ‘Tomorrow evening, come and share our supper. We shall tell you everything that happens.’ Kathryn grasped Thomasina’s arm. ‘Go back to the house. Make sure all is well.’
Thomasina agreed and, followed by Luberon, the bailiff, Bogbean and Rawnose, whispering excitedly to each other, left the house.
Colum closed the door behind them and came back to stand over his prisoner.
‘I know what you want, Irishman,’ Dauncey said as she twisted a ring on one of her fingers. ‘I know what both of you want.’ The widow smiled as Colum sat down next to Kathryn. She leaned across the table, calm, composed, as if she was their friend discussing the everyday things of life. ‘Let me see. What you are going to say: that I’ll be taken to London and tried before King’s Bench in Westminster Hall. How the trial will not take long and I’ll either hang at the Elms or burn in Smithfield. But,’ she raised her hand, ‘if I hand over the Book of Shadows then my punishment might not be so harsh.’ She looked sharply at Kathryn. ‘Do you think I’m evil, Mistress Swinbrooke?’
‘No, Mistress Dauncey, just trapped, bleeding inside.’
Dauncey started as if she had not expected that reply.
‘When I was a girl,’ she whispered, ‘I was beautiful. My father said I had a good head on my shoulders. Skilful with the abacus, clever with the ledgers.’
She put her face in her hands and began to sob. Kathryn and Colum sat and watched for a while. The widow composed herself, drying her tears with the back of her hand.
‘I’ll hang, won’t I?’
Colum was about to reply.
‘No, Irishman,’ Dauncey turned her face away. ‘I can’t take assurances from another man.’
‘Mistress Swinbrooke,’ Colum intervened, ‘cannot give any assurances. However, if the Book of Shadows is returned, the Queen will be merciful.’
‘How merciful?’ Dauncey asked, looking at Kathryn.
‘Safety of life and limb,’ Colum replied. ‘Thou
gh your goods, houses and land will be seized.’ He steeled himself to continue. ‘What the judges call, “being hanged by the purse”.’
‘And I’ll be turned out in my shift to fend for myself? An old, diseased beggar woman?’ Dauncey sneered. ‘The rope at the Elms or the fires of Smithfield do not seem so repulsive now.’
‘There is more,’ Kathryn spoke up. ‘The King can show great clemency. Perhaps . . .’ Kathryn paused as she heard the archer and bailiffs sent from the Guildhall hammering on the door.
Colum went to answer. Kathryn covered Dauncey’s hand with her own. ‘I’ll make my own plea,’ Kathryn whispered. ‘There are religious houses, convents for ladies of quality.’ Kathryn glanced away. ‘Though, within their walls, it would be a living death.’
Dauncey’s gaze held hers. ‘I have your word on that?’
‘You have my oath.’
Dauncey withdrew her hand and got to her feet, even as Colum, followed by the archers and bailiffs, came back into the kitchen. The widow woman looked over her shoulder and smiled at Kathryn.
‘I feel no rancour. I trust a woman.’ She held her wrists out and the archers placed the manacles around them.
‘And the Book?’ Kathryn asked.
Dauncey yanked her hands away, the chains clashing. She undid the small wallet, which hung from her belt. Kathryn came over and Dauncey thrust a key into her hand and squeezed a ring off her finger.
‘Show this to Master Procklehurst, the goldsmith. Tell him the small sealed coffer now belongs to you. Sell the rings back to the goldsmith and give the money to the poor.’ Dauncey laughed. ‘After all, I am going to become one of them.’ Dauncey then left the house, flanked by the bailiffs and archers.
‘Let’s leave here.’ Kathryn picked up her cloak, aware of how quiet, almost oppressive, the house had become.
They left, Colum closing and locking the door behind them.
‘Well?’ Kathryn asked, gripping his arm as they walked into Black Griffin Lane. ‘What will happen to her?’
Colum shrugged. ‘It depends on the Queen. Don’t forget, Kathryn, many will be glad Tenebrae’s dead whilst the seizure of the Book of Shadows will be seen as a triumph. They won’t care about Fronzac and Brissot whilst the forfeit of Dauncey’s goods will gladden the hearts of the Exchequer.’
‘I gave her my word,’ Kathryn declared.
Colum smiled down at her. ‘I thought you would. Oh, she’ll be spared life and limb and live out her days in some comfortable convent high on the northern moors.’
‘And the Book of Shadows?’
‘We must seize it ourselves first,’ Colum replied. ‘Before Master Foliot returns. That book has cost lives. I want to see what secrets it holds.’
The goldsmith’s shop was all boarded up, but Colum pounded on the door. The surly merchant, wrapped in his furred robe, a deep-bowled cup of claret in his hands, turned cringingly servile when Colum announced who he was. In the flickering light of the candles set around the counting-shop, Colum declared how Widow Dauncey had been arrested for murder and, showing the woman’s ring, demanded the sealed casket.
‘Most improper,’ Procklehurst murmured.
‘If you wish,’ Colum retorted, ‘I can return with some of the King’s soldiers.’
Procklehurst fairly scuttled away. He returned, thrusting the casket into Colum’s hands. The Irishman growled his thanks, then he and Kathryn left the shop and hurried through the now dark, deserted streets to Ottemelle Lane. Once inside her house, Kathryn placed the casket in her chancery office. Thankfully, Wuf was sleepy. Thomasina had already fed him whilst Kathryn quietly warned her nurse not to mention anything she had witnessed at Tenebrae’s house. Once Agnes was in bed, Kathryn brought the casket into the kitchen. Colum unlocked the lid, drew out the calfskin-covered book from the velvet pouch in which it had been sealed and laid it on the table. Kathryn took the gold ring lying at the bottom of the casket and handed that, as well as the one Dauncey had given her, to Thomasina.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ she said, ‘take this down to Father Cuthbert at the Poor Priests Hospital. Tell him how, in the end, some good came out of Tenebrae’s death.’
Colum had picked up the Book of Shadows and was already leafing through the crackling, yellowed parchment. He looked quizzically at Kathryn.
‘Do you wish to read it?’
Kathryn shook her head. ‘No. It’s an evil book: it’s best if only you read what’s there. Then I cannot lie to Master Foliot on his return tomorrow.’
Colum pulled a stool up near the fire and studied the book, turning the pages over, now and again muttering or exclaiming to himself. Kathryn chose to ignore him. She helped Thomasina prepare the dough for baking; it kept her occupied and eased the soreness in her shoulder and the small of her back. She jumped, nearly dropping the bowl, at a pounding on the door. Surely not Foliot? she thought as Thomasina rushed to answer it. But it was only Mathilda Sempler who came hobbling down the passageway, her eyes bright, looking none the worse for wear after her ordeal. She bobbed a curtsey at Colum and thrust a small jar into Kathryn’s hand.
‘Some herbs,’ she declared. ‘Quite precious. Willowmarsh, to prevent nocturnal pollutions.’
Kathryn thanked her. ‘There was no need, Mathilda.’
‘There is every need,’ the old woman exclaimed. ‘Poor, old Mathilda, nearly dancing on the end of a rope or grilled on a skillet.’ She sat down on a stool, moaning and groaning at her protesting joints.
Colum glanced up, but then returned to his reading. Thomasina came bustling in and, stooping down, gave the old woman a hug.
‘A glass of wine, Mathilda,’ she offered, ‘to celebrate your release?’
‘No, no. Old Mathilda has only come to say thank you.’ Then, resting on her cane, she struggled to her feet. ‘I shouldn’t sit,’ she said. ‘I forget my years and the castle dungeon is an unhealthy place.’
She turned and before Kathryn could stop her, began to hobble down the passageway to the door.
‘No, no, I won’t stay,’ Mathilda declared. Just before she reached the door, she glanced slyly back at the kitchen where Thomasina was now busy and beckoned Kathryn closer. ‘I have a new cottage,’ she whispered. ‘The Talbot woman has given Mathilda fresh lodgings, just beyond the London gate on the banks of the Stour.’
‘So she should,’ Kathryn replied, puzzled by Mathilda’s attitude yet eager to return to find out what Colum had discovered. ‘So she should. You were innocent.’ Kathryn decided it was best not to tell the old woman about her confrontation with Isabella Talbot. She opened the door, but Mathilda didn’t move. Kathryn shivered at the hard, cunning look in the old woman’s eyes. ‘You were innocent.’
Mathilda, resting on the cane, leaned forward on the balls of her feet.
‘Was I?’ she whispered.
Kathryn’s mouth went dry: Mathilda’s face didn’t look so old any more. Her eyes were bright, the skin on her face now seemed soft and smooth.
‘Was I? That bitch threw me out of my cottage so I wove dreams around her husband.’ The old woman hobbled through the doorway then turned, one hand on the latch. ‘You have a good heart, Kathryn Swinbrooke and goodness will follow you, but in the months ahead keep your ears sharp. I tell you this, by all the dark lords of the air, I have not yet finished with Mistress Isabella Talbot!’
Mathilda smiled as if to herself. And, before Kathryn could protest or plead with her to be wary, Mathilda Sempler walked away, her cane tapping like a drum beat on the cobbles of Ottemelle Lane.
Kathryn closed the door and went back along the passageway. She stopped half-way down to control the shiver caused by Sempler’s words.
I am a physician, Kathryn thought, yet there are forces and humours and powers, which perhasps run through us all. She remembered Isabella Talbot’s hateful face and knew that, in the months ahead, when that murderess least expected it, Mathilda Sempler would reap her own mysterious form of vengeance.
‘Kathryn, come here, quic
kly!’ Colum called.
She hurried into the kitchen. Colum was now seated at the table, holding the Book of Shadows in his hand.
‘I have found it.’
‘Colum, what is the matter?’
The Irishman’s usually tanned, swarthy face was now pale and agitated.
‘Tell me!’
Colum threw the book down. ‘No wonder the Queen wanted this,’ he declared, pushing it even further away with his fingers. ‘Dauncey was correct: there’s page after page of tittle-tattle and viperish gossip. Dark, malicious half-truths. Which great lord has been made a cuckold. The secrets of this bishop or that. Which baron or merchant secretly supported the House of Lancaster. There’s enough in here to send people by the cartload to the gallows.’
Kathryn sat down. ‘But there’s more, isn’t there?’
Colum glanced away. ‘Yes, there is. According to Tenebrae, the King’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville is not valid because he was secretly affianced and betrothed to a woman called Eleanor Butler.’
Kathryn’s fingers flew to her lips.
‘If this became public knowledge,’ Colum continued, ‘then everything the House of York has struggled for in the recent, bloody civil war would be lost. The King’s marriage would be declared bigamous, his son Edward illegitimate, with no right to succeed his father. If the King’s enemies got hold of this, truth or not, the country would be torn by a fresh power struggle.’ He leaned across the table. ‘Kathryn,’ he whispered. ‘Just to know that could send us to the gallows.’