by Kate Ellis
“It is possible. But we must not forget that Agnes asked for Captain Wharton.”
“But, according to the soldiers, she never got to see him. Do we tell the constable and have Sir Edward arrested on his return?”
“There is his position to consider. He is Lord Molyneux’ son. He is no vagabond or beggar who can be thrown into the town gaol on the slightest suspicion. Justice should not depend on wealth and influence, but alas, Valentine, that is the way of the world. Before we accuse the man we must be sure of his guilt and we must have proof. Sir Edward cannot have been Agnes’s lover. Whatever else the man may be he is no priest nor ever has been. And he would hardly have taken a vow of chastity, from what his brother said of him. We must look elsewhere for her leman. From what Manners said she met Sir Edward by sheer chance. He saw her, thought her a lady of the night and took a fancy to her.”
“Then why did she go with him willingly?”
“That I do not know. Maybe she knew him. Maybe he was acquainted with her lover or said he was. It’s something we must discover. Let us consider what we know of Agnes’s lover?” She looked at Valentine.
“Nothing very much. He was bound by a vow of chastity; that is all.”
“And was willing to break that vow, do not forget that.”
“Can you think of a circumstance where the breaking of the vow would lead to inconvenience? In spite of the new law, priests and former religious now marry quite openly in far flung parts of the country. Father Nicholas is an example. He lives with his wife and still keeps his post.”
“Maybe Agnes’s lover is married or betrothed already.”
“Agnes was unworldly and gullible. If he had said they must keep their love secret because he had vowed never to have dealings with a woman, she would have believed him. Do you not agree?”
Valentine nodded. “Alas, you are probably right. Agnes was an innocent. We live in a wicked world where innocence is so rewarded.”
“But who was her lover? He has to live nearby or they would not have met. And she said that she saw him pass her window. Come, let us consider all the priests and monks of this town.”
Valentine thought for a moment. “There is Father James of course. Master Culver the schoolmaster has recently come to his post. He was once a monk, although I do not know if he was acquainted with Agnes. And Father Nicholas...he was a Cistercian from the Abbey of Whalley.”
“What of Master Culver?”
“He is new to the town, recently come from Yorkshire.”
“And his predecessor?”
“That was Master Chadwick. He disappeared without explanation about three months ago. I have wondered what became of him.”
Katheryn looked up with interest. “Was he a priest?”
“He was in holy orders, I believe. He acted as priest in the chantry of St. Catherine as well as his teaching duties.”
“And he disappeared you say?”
“He left the town suddenly that is certain.”
“I should like to discover more of Master Chadwick. Pray continue your list of holy men,” she said with a smile.
“There is Bartholomew of course. And myself,” he added seriously. “And the late Father Clement. There is the chaplain of Lord Derby’s household at the Tower, Father Michael, who is a likeable man, though fond of his drink and a martyr to his sore back. And one of my brothers from Birkenhead, William Staines, is clerk to Lord Derby...and about to take a wife. I spoke with him when I visited the Tower yesterday.”
“And have you reason to suspect any of them?”
Valentine smiled and shook his head. “I know of none who had particular dealings with Agnes. William Staines almost certainly did not know her. He thought it odd that one of the exalted Moores should meet with such an end.”
“He may have behaved thus to mislead you.”
Valentine shrugged. “It is possible, of course, but I think not.”
“And Father Clement? What of him?”
“He is dead. Agnes’s lover still lives, as far as we know.”
“But had he enemies? Could he have known of Agnes’s indiscretions and been silenced? He had dealings with the castle. And your Manchester merchant saw him with that juggler.”
“There are other priests who visit the castle regularly. The Molyneux family have their own chaplain but he travels with his lordship so other priests say mass for the garrison. That is why Father Clement had dealings with Captain Wharton. I believe Father Nicholas visits the castle occasionally; and Master Culver, the schoolmaster, when his duties permit; and Father James too.”
“Can you think of anyone else in the town?”
“If we are listing all the priests in the district there are the vicars of nearby villages and their curates and chantry priests and...”
“Stop, Valentine, it is too much. I had not realised there would be so many. Let us keep to those in the town who were likely to be acquainted with Agnes.”
“Where shall we begin?”
“I shall visit the school. I have not yet made the acquaintance of Master Culver.”
“You suspect him?”
“How will I know until I have spoken with him, Valentine. Let us consider the facts.” She took a deep breath. “Agnes has a lover she keeps secret because he cannot or will not marry her. She finds herself with child and she is attacked in the chapel of St. Mary del Quay. Was it the lover who attacked her, hoping to cover his indiscretions by her death?”
Valentine made no answer. She continued. “The lover makes no effort to find out what has become of her. That indicates his guilt, do you not think? Then she sees him from the window. What was he doing near the Old Hall? Then she goes to the castle and asks for Captain Wharton but goes off with Sir Edward. Why?
“And who killed Father Clement? And why was his right hand hacked off?”
Katheryn looked up sharply. “His right hand? You didn’t mention that.”
“Father Clement was found with his right hand roughly hacked off at the wrist.”
“If they wanted rings they would just have cut off the fingers, surely.”
“That’s what I thought. But there are other reasons for obtaining the hand of a dead man.”
“What other reasons?”
“The dead man’s hand is valuable in certain ceremonies held by those who worship Satan, Katheryn. I fear to think such things go on in Liverpool. This is more than just some old crone making love philtres. I detect the presence of true evil here and it frightens me.”
“Agnes said she saw the devil and Griselda spoke of Satan in the old mill that is burned.” She shook her head. “I do not understand all this. The devil himself...and all these priests...”
Valentine laughed. “The town is full of them when you start to consider. I sometimes feel it would be better for the King’s safety if they were all confined to their monasteries instead of walking free giving the King’s subjects ideas of dissent.”
“You agree with their ideas?”
“I am no Father James. I keep silent and wait for better times.”
“As do we all. I saw Father James in the Mermaid with a man. They had the manner of conspirators and if I noticed it I am sure others did. I fear for his safety.”
“Whatever he is involved in, it is better for us not to know.” He stood up. “What say you we take Brother Bartholomew’s ferry over to Birkenhead and visit our Prior. He will be glad of the company and he may know the whereabouts of more of my brothers.”
“Are there any brothers in particular you would suspect of such things? You must know them well. Can you see any in the role of Agnes’s lover?”
“There might be one or two; but I would not name them, you understand. And there is Norton Abbey further down the river. Many brothers of that house must have found posts as curates and chantry priests nearby. I thank God that the chantry chapels provide employment for those ejected from the monasteries. There will always be those glad to pay for prayers to be said for the souls of their lo
ved ones.”
“Let us hope the King does not turn his greedy eyes towards them. It would not surprise me if he looked to them next when he has spent the treasure from the monasteries.”
“Do I detect a hint of treason there, Katheryn?”
“I am saying nothing, Valentine.” She smiled. “Let us go and seek out Bartholomew. A trip across the river is just what I need to clear my head. All this thinking is making my senses spin.”
*
Katheryn had heard that many experienced an unpleasant feeling of nausea when travelling by boat: she was glad she was not one of them. She found the sail across the Mersey in the open craft exhilarating and she enjoyed the feel of the chill wind on her face.
When they reached Birkenhead and the other passengers left the boat, she and Valentine hung back to talk to Bartholomew who was tying his ferry to a stout wooden post on the end of the jetty. Katheryn shivered. It seemed colder on shore without the excitement of the wave tossed journey to distract her and she was glad of her warm woollen cloak with its fur lining.
“Have we far to walk?” Katheryn asked.
“No. The Prior has not moved a great distance from his old home.”
Valentine and Katheryn walked past the deserted shell of the priory. It stirred memories for Katheryn that she would prefer to forget. How many more memories, she thought, would the weathering stones hold for Valentine and Bartholomew who had spent the best part of their lives there?
They came to a small stone built manor house, comfortable but by no means ostentatious. An elderly man was cutting wood in the courtyard and Valentine recognised him as one of the priory servants. The man’s eyes lit up at the sight of one of the brothers returning to see his prior and he greeted him like a long lost friend, taking his hand and shaking it for a full two minutes whilst exclaiming how well the brother looked in his new gown. He introduced Katheryn as the Abbess of Godstow and the servant, pathetically impressed bowed low and said he would announce them to the Prior.
“The changes have been too much for old Meading. Half the time he believes the priory is still in existence, poor man,” Valentine whispered as the servant disappeared into the house. “I am glad to see Prior Sharp has taken him into his household.”
The old man almost ran back to tell them that Father Prior would be delighted to receive them and that he would fetch refreshments immediately. They were led into the Prior’s parlour where he awaited them, warming his backside by a roaring fire. He too greeted Valentine like an old friend.
“Brother, I cannot say how pleased I am to see you. I get so little company here. My brothers are all busy with their own lives in the outside world and...”
“May I introduce Lady Katheryn Bulkeley, formerly Abbess of Godstow, who is my guest over in Liverpool.”
The Prior gave Valentine an enquiring look then bowed low to Katheryn. “I am most delighted to meet you, my lady. I assume your house has met the same fate as my own?”
Katheryn nodded. “I held out for as long as I could but I had no wish to anger Master Cromwell more than was necessary as I was afraid my sisters would pay for my defiance.”
“I am glad of civilised company, my lady. It was a condition of my receiving this house and my pension that I engage in no form of employment and I do miss my brothers although they visit me from time to time. A few have gone to our order’s abbey at Chester - that still has not been closed, though it is only a matter of time I fear.”
“I saw Brother William a few days back.”
Prior Sharp looked disapproving. “I hear he is about to break his solemn vows and take a wife.”
“But he looks well on it, Father Prior - and his intended wife is a maid of virtue.”
“You approve, Brother Valentine?”
“Marriage is a sacrament, Father. Surely better that than to indulge in sin.”
The Prior nodded sadly. Katheryn studied him. He was a small shrivelled man in his sixties. He wore a long plain black gown, as much like a monk’s habit as he could manage without resorting to the genuine article.
“And our Brother Bartholomew of course. He brought us over here today.”
“He is a good boy; a true brother. I pray he is not distracted by the desires of the flesh.”
“No indeed,” Katheryn said solemnly, trying to hide a smile. It was clear Prior Sharp had quite decided views on the desires of the flesh. She changed the subject, explaining her presence in Liverpool and the reason for their visit. The Prior’s eyes, sunk as they were in the wrinkled flesh of his face, lit up with interest.
“I will pray that you catch the poor sister’s killer. The desires of the flesh are responsible for much of the evil in the world. Our present sad condition was brought about by such desires, you do realise that, my lady. When the King was struck with lust for that Boleyn woman and left his lawful and virtuous wife, the late Queen Katherine, just look what it led to.” The Prior sat down, unable to contemplate the desires of the flesh in an upright position for much longer.
“We wondered, Father, if there were any of our brothers living close by, other than the ones I already know of. I should like to contact them very much. I too miss my brothers.” He glanced at Katheryn, who smiled to herself at his subterfuge. This request would go down better with Prior Sharp than a suggestion that one of his former monks may be a killer.
“There were but sixteen of us, brother. As I said four went to Chester; Brothers Bartholomew and William you know of. Brother Francis our cellarer runs an inn nearby, and runs it well by all accounts. Brother John, I understand, has a post as schoolmaster in the town of Warrington. Brother Anselm has a post as a clerk in Chester. The others, I fear, are scattered. They received their forty shillings and their new gowns and went on their way without a word to anyone. It is a sad end to a way of life, is it not, brother?”
“I am sure they will prosper, Father.” Valentine said comfortingly to the old man who had had to watch all he had worked for destroyed in a matter of weeks.
“And you, brother? How does your trade fare? You were always skilled at healing...a true gift from God. I hope you use it well.”
“I try to Father.” He looked across at Katheryn. “We must go and catch the tide. I thank you for receiving us. It has been good to see you again.”
Prior Sharp took Valentine’s hand as if reluctant to let him go. His now empty life had been temporarily lightened by this visit from one who reminded him of past contentment. He bowed to Katheryn and said that he hoped they would call on him again. As they stepped out into the courtyard, it began to drizzle. Katheryn put her hood up against the damp air.
“Poor man,” she said when they were out of earshot of the ancient servant who saw them off the premises. “The ruins of his priory must always remind him of what he had lost.”
“He has changed, Katheryn. He used to be an enthusiastic man, always ready to encourage and correct. He has lost all his spirit. I was shocked to see him thus. He deserves better. Come, let us seek out Brother Francis’s inn. It is not far away.”
The Priory Arms, as its name suggested, was on the fringe of the priory lands, near a small village populated by workers who once made their livings on the priory estates. Valentine hoped that their new landlord would be as benevolent as the brothers had been.
The inn was low and thatched and seemed to be fairly full for the time of day. The floor was clean and well swept and the furniture plain but plentiful and in good repair. Valentine stepped over the threshold first but he felt someone pulling him back. Katheryn had hold of his cloak. She stood on tiptoe behind him and whispered in his ear.
“Come away. I do not wish him to see me.” Valentine looked into the inn. He could see the portly Brother Francis Wells pouring ale from a barrel on the great table that stood opposite the door. “That man...I saw him in the Mermaid deep in conspiracy with Father James. I think it best he does not see me here: he may think I spy on him. Is he your Brother Francis?”
Valentine nodded, not
quite understanding, but he indulged Katheryn’s misgivings for the moment. They turned away from the inn and headed back for the ferry.
As they passed the priory church, they were surprised to see Captain Wharton emerge from behind the wall of the south transept. He had seen them; there was no way they could avoid this meeting...nor did Katheryn want to.
“Good day to you, Captain. I had not expected to see you in such a place. Are you checking that the King’s commissioners have done their work thoroughly?”
He missed the humour of her question and looked alarmed. “No indeed, madam.” He then stopped, lost for words. It was clear he had no explanation for his presence.
Katheryn looked down at the small sack he carried. “You are taking the air, Captain? I hope the drizzle will not spoil the meal you have brought with you.”