Day of Wrath

by Iris Collier

  The door at the east end, which connected the monks’ church to the parish church, opened, and Brother Benedict appeared. He looked his usual cheerful self, and after he’d greeted her, suggested they go up into the gallery under the tower where the Vicar wanted them to perform on Sunday.

  He led the way up the narrow spiral staircase which went up into the gallery and then up again to the platform in the tower where the bellringer stood to ring the bell for Sunday Mass. The gallery was a sturdy, wooden structure built during the last century expressly for musical performances. There was no ceiling above it, just a view straight up into the bell tower, where the jackdaws were arguing vociferously over their nesting sites. The floor of the gallery was covered with their droppings and the twigs they’d relinquished in their constant battles. As they appeared in the gallery the birds set up a chorus of disapproval and Brother Benedict looked doubtfully at Jane.

  ‘Too much competition?’

  ‘Maybe they’ll settle down once we start. It’s strange they’re noisier than usual today. I wonder what’s upset them.’

  ‘Nesting time?’

  ‘They should’ve got over that. Now they should be settling down to feed their young. Anyway, let’s start. What time does the Vicar want us here this Sunday?’

  ‘About six. After Compline.’

  ‘That’s good. The birds’ll be going to bed by then.’

  ‘I hope so; otherwise no one’s going to hear us. The Vicar, by the way, wants us to sing some of the Josquin chansons from the Ave Maria Stella. After all, May is the month of Mary.’

  Benedict gave the note and looked at the manuscript he’d brought with him. Jane joined him for the first song. It was so wonderful to sing with someone as accomplished as Benedict that Jane forgot the jackdaws and neither of them saw the silent figure up in the tower who was watching them intently. Their voices echoed round the high vault and Jane felt her spirits soar. She hadn’t felt so happy for a long time.

  Although she knew most of the songs by heart, Jane thought she’d be better off if she moved to the other side of Benedict so that she could see the notes more easily if she lost her place. It was at that precise moment, just when she moved, that a huge piece of masonry fell down from the tower and knocked her sideways, missing her head by inches. She fell, and Benedict gave a cry of horror and went down on his knees beside her. She was unconscious, but still breathing. Thank God, he thought, her guardian angel had been vigilant that afternoon. He went to the edge of the balcony and shouted for help. He should’ve been warned, he thought angrily. Surely the vicar would know if the tower was unsafe.

  No one heard him, so checking that Jane was still breathing, he ran down the stairs and over to the little room that served as the priest’s house as well as the vestry. He banged on the door and shouted for Hobbes, who eventually opened the door. Exclaiming in horror at the news, and calling to the Sexton, who was out in the graveyard, they ran back into the gallery. The Sexton puffed up the stairs after them, and, picking Jane up, they gently carried her downstairs and laid her on the straw.

  ‘Quick,’ Hobbes said to the Sexton, ‘run and ask the Prior to send over Brother Michael or Martin. We’ll carry her over to her house; her father’s going to be horrified when he sees her. I can’t imagine how it happened; the tower’s been safe for as long as I can remember. There was no sign of faulty stonework when I last had a look at it with Pierrepoint.’

  ‘Could be them birds,’ said the Sexton as he got stiffly to his feet. ‘Troublesome creatures they are. They will build their nests up there at this time of the year and it loosens the masonry. I’ll get them out as soon as I can.’

  ‘The jackdaws have always nested up there and have never given us any trouble.’

  ‘Aye, but I always knew that one day something like this would happen. I’m sorry, though, that it was Mistress Jane who got in the way of that lump of stone.’

  They carried Jane back to her father’s house, where Guy Warrener hid his grief by ranting at the Vicar.

  ‘You stupid fool, how dare you let my daughter go up into the gallery when you ought to’ve known it was dangerous. This is the last time I’ll let her sing for you and those infernal monks.’

  His diatribe was cut short by the arrival of Brother Martin, who took a good look at Jane and the place where the stone had landed between her shoulders. He looked at her father. ‘Best to calm down, Master Warrener. There’s no great harm done. She’s concussed and her back’ll be sore for a few days but nothing that a good sedative and a lotion for rubbing into the bruise won’t put right. Now get her up to bed, and leave her to sleep. I’ll come back later on and take another look at her. Would you like me to send for a goodwife from the village to keep an eye on her?’ he said to Guy Warrener.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ he shouted. ‘I can’t do with any of those village crones around my house. I’ll look after her. She’s my own lass and I’ll not have anyone else interfering.’

  ‘Someone ought to tell Lord Nicholas,’ said Brother Benedict gently. ‘I’ll get over to the manor. He’s going to be very upset.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ said Guy Warrener, ‘he’s only interested in my lass’s voice. She’ll not be singing for the King now so he’ll not bother to come and see her.’

  ‘She’ll be up and about soon,’ said Brother Martin, packing away his phials. ‘And have no fear, her voice will be as good as ever by next week.’

  * * *

  Nicholas stared at Brother Benedict in horror. His worst fears were now being realised. ‘Jane? Unconscious? My God, what happened? Where is she?’

  ‘Calm yourself, my Lord; she’s in her father’s house. Brother Martin has seen her and says that she’ll soon be back on her feet. Best not to go and see her just yet. Her father’s raging at everyone and he’ll not let you in. It was an accident, my Lord. The Sexton thinks the piece of masonry was dislodged by the nesting jackdaws.’

  ‘That remains to be seen. Come on, I’ll get my horse and you can tell me the details as we go along.’

  * * *

  ‘No visitors,’ said Guy Warrener, standing in front of his door with his arms stretched out to fend off all comers. ‘She’s asleep; and it’s best that she stays that way. I’ll tell her you called,’ he said, suddenly remembering his manners, ‘when she wakes up. But, in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you kept away.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of waking her up. But I must see her and I want to see the place where the rock hit her. Now let me pass or I shall have to force my way in. I’m sorry, Warrener, but I have a huge respect for Jane.’

  ‘You’ll not see her. It’s not decent.’

  ‘Brother Benedict will come with me. Now let me pass. You can come too, for decency’s sake, if that’s what you’re worried about,’

  Much to Nicholas’s relief, Guy Warrener put up only a token resistance. With Brother Benedict as chaperon, he led the way up to Jane’s room, where she was lying on her bed, with her arms by her side, like a marble effigy in church. Her face was pale, but her breathing was regular.

  ‘Where was she hit?’

  ‘On her back. You’ll not lay a finger on her, my Lord.’

  Nicholas took no notice. Beckoning Brother Benedict to help him, they eased Jane over on to one side, and with Warrener grumbling his disapproval, he pulled down her dress and saw the great bruise that was just emerging out of the whiteness of her back. He stared down at her in horror. Horror that he should have exposed Jane to such danger, because he knew that this was no accident. Ultor couldn’t get at Agnes Myles, but he could stop her talking to the one person she would trust, Jane. And he would strike again, he felt sure. He pulled up her dress and gently eased her on to her back. The sedative which Brother Martin had administered assured that she remained in a deep sleep.

  He looked at her father. ‘Guard her well, Master Warrener. She’s very precious to me. See no one comes near her and tend her yourself. I shall come again soon and see how she is. If you
need anything – anything at all – get Brother Benedict here to come and get me. But now I must see where the accident happened. Brother Benedict, would you show me the place.’

  They went together to the parish church, where the Vicar was hovering anxiously at the front door, talking to a group of villagers who all fell silent and stared at Nicholas as he walked up the path.

  He nodded to Hobbes, and went into the church with Brother Benedict, who led the way up into the gallery.

  ‘There it is. It’s still where it fell. We were standing here. Had Jane not moved just at that moment when the rock fell, she wouldn’t be with us now.’

  Nicholas looked at the big lump of masonry. It was a large piece, with rough-cut edges, and the mortar still looked as fresh as the day it was put there by the old craftsmen. There was no sign of crumbling.

  ‘Let’s go up into the tower,’ he said when he’d finished examining the stone.

  They climbed up the second flight of stairs and went out on to the bellringer’s platform. He looked up into the huge space above him where the bells hung, and he saw where the jackdaws had built their nests on the embrasures in the wall which let in the daylight. The platform was littered with twigs and droppings, but there was no evidence that the birds had dislodged any of the stonework, which seemed to be in a good condition as far as he could see.

  Brother Benedict nudged him and pointed out a place in the wall, level with the top of their heads, where a piece of masonry was missing. Nicholas went over and took a good look. The other blocks of stone around the hole were all firmly in position, the mortar intact.

  ‘This was no accident, Brother Benedict,’ he said, grimly. ‘Someone prised that stone out of the wall and carried it to the edge of the platform and dropped it down. Now it couldn’t dislodge itself and it couldn’t make its own way down into the gallery. Someone was up here, Brother Benedict, when you and Jane started to rehearse. Someone chose his moment, but didn’t reckon on Jane moving at that precise moment. Thank God she did.’

  Brother Benedict started at Nicholas disbelievingly. ‘Maybe one of the stonemasons removed it to replace the mortar and left it carelessly at the edge of the platform where it would only need a slight movement to dislodge it.’

  ‘And where did that slight movement come from? Your voices? I hardly think so. From the birds? Of course not. However, let’s take a look at the edge and see if there are any marks left by a piece of masonry being put down there.’

  They went over and examined the edge of the platform. There were no marks. Just bits of twig and other rubbish jettisoned by the birds.

  ‘Well, we shall have to check with the Vicar – he’ll know if any stonemasons have been working on the tower recently. Did you see anyone up here when you came to rehearse with Jane? Think carefully now.’

  Brother Benedict was staring at him with troubled eyes. ‘No, we saw no one. But Jane did say that the birds seemed noisier than usual, which would’ve been the case if anyone was on their territory. Lord Nicholas, what are you saying? Is it possible that someone wanted to kill Jane? I can’t believe that. What harm has she ever done?’

  Nicholas looked thoughtfully at Brother Benedict. How much should he tell the young monk? How far could he trust him? He seemed genuinely upset over Jane’s accident. He couldn’t have been responsible. He was here with her, unless … No, he just couldn’t imagine Brother Benedict agreeing to be a decoy.

  Brother Benedict seemed to sense his dilemma. ‘You must trust me, my Lord. You see, I love Jane as much as it’s possible for a monk to love anyone. She is a wonderful musician, a talented and intelligent girl, why should I want to harm her? If that’s what you’re thinking. Now take me into your confidence. Is it anything to do with Agnes Myles? I know Jane went to see her often and I guessed there was more to it than Christian duty towards an unfortunate old woman. Let me look after Agnes whilst Jane’s recovering. I’d be only too pleased to help – but I would like to know what’s going on.’

  Nicholas deliberated for just a few seconds. He was going to need Brother Benedict now that Jane was out of action. He’d have to take the risk.

  ‘I’d be relieved if you would look after Agnes, Brother Benedict. Jane has the key to her room. We ought to go and get it.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Father Hubert will have a spare key. I’ll get it off him.’

  So there’s more than one key, he thought. If Ultor was one of the monks, he could have got at Agnes any time. But perhaps it would be too risky, or perhaps he was just biding his time. As long as Agnes’s mind remained confused, he was safe. But when her memory returned …

  Again Brother Benedict seemed to read his thoughts. ‘I’ll have to ask the Prior’s permission first, of course. We’re not supposed to go into women’s rooms. Already I’ve broken the Rule once today by coming up here with Jane and going to Jane’s room at her home.’

  ‘But that was necessary. If you hadn’t come with me, Guy Warrener would never have let me go to see her. Now Brother Benedict, before we go and ask the Vicar about the stonemasons, I would like to ask you a few questions. What time were you up here with Jane?’

  ‘Four o’clock.’

  ‘Did you tell anyone you were coming?’

  ‘Yes, Brother Oswald. He’s the Precentor and likes to know what we’re doing.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘No, but Brother Oswald’s a bit of a chatterer. What’s this all leading up to, my Lord? You must take me into your confidence if I’m to help you.’

  ‘I’m hesitating because what I have to tell you is very serious. You see, Jane and I are working together to unmask a traitor who’s out to murder the King, who, as I’m sure you know, is coming to stay with me in a few days time. Now Jane is my assistant; and look what happened to her! Do you think I want to put another person’s life in danger? You could be taking a grave risk if anyone knows you’re working for me. Do you want to take that risk?’

  ‘Lord Nicholas, I want to – how do you say it – step into Jane’s shoes. If she was your assistant, then I should be proud to replace her until she recovers her strength. Now tell me as much as I need to know.’

  * * *

  Later, Nicholas went to see Alfred Hobbes, the Vicar. He said that no stonemasons had been employed by him that spring. If the churchwarden had asked for work to be done in the tower, then he couldn’t bring in stonemasons without consulting him first. Hobbes was worried and upset by Jane’s accident, especially as it had occurred in his church where nothing like that had ever happened before.

  Nicholas left the parish church and walked across to the Prior’s house. He felt full of anxiety. Anxiety about Jane, and now Brother Benedict, who had so willingly agreed to look after Agnes, not fully understanding the risk he was taking. Nicholas knew that someone had been told that Jane and Brother Benedict would be up in the gallery at four o’clock, and that person had gone there with the intent to kill Jane. Thank God he hadn’t succeeded, but he felt sure he’d try again. The Prior would now have to help him. He had to know where all his monks were at four o’clock that afternoon. And the Prior wouldn’t like that at all; especially with Wagstaff and Laycock prowling around the premises. Supper was almost ready, but Prior Thomas took one look at Nicholas’s face and told Brother Cyril to delay the proceedings. He took Nicholas into the solarium and poured him out a generous glass of wine, which Nicholas accepted gratefully.

  ‘You look as if you need it,’ said the Prior. ‘What’s been going on?’

  ‘You’ve not heard then?’

  ‘I’ve not heard anything since Cromwell’s minions arrived. We’ve been over the accounts. They think we spend too much on unnecessary luxuries. The infernal cheek of it! I can’t see that what we spend is of any concern except to ourselves. We don’t owe anybody anything.’

  ‘I’m sorry they’re giving you so much trouble, but now listen, Prior…’

  Nicholas talked and Prior Thomas listened. When he’d finished, he refilled their
glasses and sat down heavily in one of the armchairs.

  ‘I’m so sorry that this happened to Mistress Warrener. Are you saying that you think this wasn’t an accident?’

  ‘I think that someone knew that Jane and Brother Benedict were going to rehearse in the parish church at four and attempted to kill her.’

  ‘But why on earth would anyone want to do that? And, God help us, he could have killed Brother Benedict as well; and then what would I have said to his abbot?’

  ‘Well, give thanks that only one of them was hurt. But as to why anyone should want to kill Jane is because she is the one person Agnes Myles would talk to when she recovers.’

  ‘And you think Agnes Myles might be able to lead us to finding out who this traitor is. My God, Lord Nicholas, I thought we’d got rid of the conspirators when Mortimer was arrested, but now it appears that they’re rearing their ugly heads again.’

  ‘And, just in case you’ve forgotten, the King is coming to stay with me next week. Unless we find this traitor, his life could be in great danger.’

  ‘And you really think this man is here with us in the village?’

  ‘I’m saying more than that, Prior. I think he’s right here, in your Priory, and cursing his luck at this very moment because he missed his chance to get rid of Jane.’