Missal for Murder

by Rosie Lear

  After so much patient waiting, he would not be double-crossed or thwarted.

  Someone would pay for this disappearance

  Chapter 5

  Matthias was mixing ink and sharpening quills when news reached him of the second death. He laid down his knife carefully, and sat staring thoughtfully into the garden. Early Spring flowers were bending gracefully under a light wind, their delicate petals moved by the breeze, and there was sunlight in which today there was a hint of warmth. From this window he could see the roll of the pasture as it dipped down in front of the Saxon church to the meandering stream in the valley. His father had chosen wisely when he requested this piece of land for building – a quiet place on the borderland of two country shires – Milborne Port, the seat of medieval trading, just in Somerset, and Sherborne in Dorset.

  When Milborne Port had bustled with traders from all over England and the continent, Matthias’ great uncle had been the port reeve, responsible for fair commerce on the great trading days, but Milborne Port was retreating now, for times were changing; it was a quieter backwater now, its days of glory past. Wool fairs and continental silks and spices went to larger places, and even that less frequently now, since the wars with France.

  Matthias put away his knife and locked the ink and horn books in a cupboard. Thomas Copeland had sent the message – now Matthias must act upon it.

  He called to Davy to have his horse saddled – his house boasted a courtyard, at the back, where there was adequate stabling for three horses. Matthias only kept two – his own fine mount, and a nag for Davy to use. The largest stable was empty – his father’s destrier he had sold before he went abroad, after his father died. He had no use for it, and it would have been too expensive to keep, especially idle. The beast had fetched a good price from a nobleman in Devon.

  He found Elizabeth in the kitchen, which was at the back of the house opening onto a little enclosed garden where herbs grew.

  “I have to go into Sherborne on business,” he told her, “I’ll be back before nightfall.”

  Elizabeth watched him go with a brooding eye.

  “That’s something to do with Ben’s death, I’ll be bound,” she said to Davy, when he came in for a tool with which to strengthen the paddock gate.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked, startled.

  “A messenger came from Master Copeland. After a little, Master Barton just said he was going to Sherborne. He planned to be working here all day at the new school – he’s had word from Master Copeland that needed more explanation – you’ll see.”

  Davy put a comforting hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

  “Trust him to find out what he can,” he said.

  Thomas’ message had been brief but succinct. There had been another death at the Abbey to which the coroner had been called. Matthias might learn more if he could catch the coroner before he moved out of the area.

  He covered the distance between Milborne Port and Sherborne in less than an hour, and Thomas was able to tell him that Sir Tobias was staying at the George hostelry, at the top of Cheap Street.

  Matthias wondered, as he walked up the hill, whether indeed Sir Tobias would see him at all – was it not an impertinence to ask questions about a second death – the only connection being that they had both been found in the Abbey.

  Sir Tobias was dictating to his scribe in a small ante-chamber off the main parlour of the hostelry. The lady of the house had lit a fire for him, and he had wine at his side as he pondered the best way to report this death. The room was plain and rather cheerless, despite the fire, which didn’t seem to want to burn brightly. It spurted sullenly in the dull grate, and from time to time, small acrid puffs of wood-smoke belched into the room in a bad-tempered way. There were several non-descript ornaments placed on the walled shelves, but the whole ambience of the room, unlike the rest of the place, was dispiriting. It was for this reason that Sir Tobias decided he would see his visitor, who might brighten up the morning a little.

  As he faced Matthias, he felt his decision to have been a wise move. He saw a tall, slender young man in his mid twenties. His sombre dress seemed to be out of keeping with the vitality in his grey-green eyes, but although sombre, the cut of his garments marked him out to be a man of some standing. He was well-cloaked against the cold, and from his belted waist hung a purse and a sheathed dagger. Under the cloak he wore a woolen doublet of dark green, a suggestion of a white linen shirt beneath that, and warm dark hose were tucked well into riding boots with a small heel. The outstanding feature was his thick auburn hair .

  No-one, having seen Matthias Barton could forget that head of hair! Despite his slim build, Sir Tobias detected an ease of movement that suggested fitness and vigour, yet in spite of all this, an air of solemnity and sorrow sat about the man now facing him, and nervousness also, for Matthias did not want to be thought interfering. However, he looked steadfastly into the older man’s eyes, and for his part, saw a well-made man between forty and fifty Summers, wearing sensible yet fashionable garb; his dark red cote-hardie was belted at the hip, from which hung a heavy leather purse. Matthew glimpsed a fur lining on the cote-hardie - necessary for the wind was still cold. Sensible black hose and leather riding boots were planted in front of him, slightly apart, in a stance indicating self assurance and confidence – and yet the face held no hint of arrogance or impatience. It was a face lined with the weariness of war, - a face all too familiar to Matthias who had seen the same war-weary lines on his father’s face on his return from the French battlefields. The nose was straight, the eyes warm and interested; Matthias thought he could well like this man.

  “Well, Master Barton?” Sir Tobias barked, an affected impatience sharpening his voice deliberately, for he had no time for tale-bearers, time wasters and snoopers. “You asked to see me?”

  He did not invite Matthias to sit down and Matthias, mindful of the need to be courteous to those of senior rank, stood respectfully in front of him.

  “I would be grateful for some information on the death discovered in the Abbey yesterday,” he began.

  Sir Tobias raised his eyebrows.

  “Indeed? And what makes you think you are entitled to this information?” he enquired, coldly.

  His scribe, quill raised, watched the scene in fascination and anticipation. He had seen Sir Tobias in action for four years now, peppery when required, positively thunderous when roused in genuine anger.

  “My serving man was a friend of the young man who was discovered in the Lady Chapel three days ago. His death was dismissed as a town brawl and was not adequately reported or dealt with.”

  Matthias glanced quickly at Sir Tobias as he uttered the mild criticism of the Abbot, but Sir Tobias was listening, bushy brows drawn together in sudden concentration.

  “Ben Glover was not a man to brawl, nor had he connections in the Abbey. His wife gave birth to their first child two days ago, and Ben was desperate to be at the birth. Something is amiss here, my lord Coroner. May I ask whether this second death could throw any light on Ben’s demise? I know not whether this second death was man woman or child; I am not a Sherborne man, and I was merely sent a hurried message…”

  He stopped, striving to order his words. Sir Tobias put his elbows on the table in front of him, and tapped the tips of his fingers together. He frowned.

  “You are not a Sherborne man you say, Master Barton. I was not informed officially of this first death – so where then, do you come from, Master Barton?”

  “I have a house in Milborne Port, Sir Tobias.”

  “Milborne Port? Not even in Dorsetshire?”

  “No, indeed, but I frequent Sherborne as a place I love – I was schooled by Thomas Copeland…”

  Sir Tobias’ face broke into a warm smile, showing teeth which were remarkably white and even for his age.

  “Thomas Copeland? I know him well – I would like to think that my grandson would pass through his hands in the fullness of time - a thorough schoolmaster and a just
and fair man – a good disciplinarian. So, - you were schooled by him?”

  “Yes, before I went to the great colleges at Oxford – but Ben ..”

  “Ah, yes – Ben . Master Barton, it was a young woman whose body was found yesterday, so unless there is a connection it would certainly appear as if his death were the result of some town brawl – the girl was a serving girl in the home of a local widow lady.”

  Matthias’ heart missed a beat.

  “ Mistress Fosse?” he enquired,

  “Why, yes,” Sir Tobias revealed. “Is there then, some connection?”

  Matthias’ face was both startled and puzzled.

  “Mary was the serving girl in the house where Ben lodged during the week. He was apprenticed to Master Cope, the glover.”

  Sir Tobias thought rapidly as he gazed at Matthias’ face, brow wrinkled in concern and distress at this new information. His attitude to Matthias altered.

  “Sit down, Master Barton,” he indicated a nearby chair. “Did you see the boy’s body?”

  “I did not sir, but Davy, my serving man did – he entered Allhallows to see Ben. He had been moved from the place of death and cleaned and laid out in a simple way, prior to being taken home to Milborne Port.”

  “Did he observe the wound?”

  Matthias thought for a moment. He closed his eyes, the better to remember.

  “Not very clearly. Davy was shocked – and there was a monk kneeling in attendance. It looked as if there was one wound only. His tunic was stained, and Davy’s wife said when they dressed him for burial that there was a deep wound to his back.”

  “Is he buried yet?” asked Sir Tobias, sharply.

  “Tomorrow, sir.”

  Sir Tobias stood up swiftly.

  “Let us see his body at once.

  They rode out together towards Milborne Port.

  “There is little violent crime in these parts, thankfully,” Sir Tobias mused, as they cantered on the trackway.

  “Most of my work has been petty thefts, domestic quarrels and property disputes. These unexplained deaths make me uneasy.”

  “Ben was just an ordinary young man,” Matthias told him, “Violent death isn’t something I would have expected – not to anyone around here. It’s a very quiet part of England.”

  “How well did you know him?” Sir Tobias asked.

  “He is…I should say was.. a childhood friend of my serving man. They grew up together. Ben was a straightforward, fit and strong young man-recently married to his childhood sweetheart. I expect he had plans of his own to improve their standing – he had almost finished his apprenticeship to the Master glover, Richard Cope.”

  “Have you spoken with him?” Sir Tobias asked. They rounded a muddy patch of the track and Milborne Port hove into sight.

  “I did so,” Matthias admitted. “I hope that doesn’t compromise your inquiry?” He was a little in awe of this man with his quick decisions and military air.

  “No, - what did you ask him, Matthias?”

  Matthias thought rapidly.

  “Not very much really,” he faltered. “I asked him why he hadn’t contacted Lydia sooner, - that seemed to me to show a complete lack of feeling. He knew Ben had been killed, but he didn’t send word to Lydia.”

  “And his reason?” Sir Tobias asked, looking keenly at Matthias,

  “He couldn’t really give a sound one. He hedged around a bit – said it wasn’t his business to do so – something to do with the newly formed guilds – it didn’t sound right to me at all.”

  “Did you ask him what kind of work Ben did for him – he must have been quite a useful and trusted fellow since he was the oldest apprentice there.”

  “Not in so many words,” Matthias said, trying to remember Richard Cope’s words.

  “I think he indicated that Ben did some simple deliveries and some of the more intricate work for customers – I think Ben would have had access to customers, because at first, he thought I was a customer, and he was going to release me to one of his apprentices – it was only when I said that it was private business that he waved the young man away and we walked a little distance from the shop.”

  “Walked a little distance away?” Sir Tobias said, thoughtfully. “Perhaps that indicates that he may have expected you to speak of something else.”

  “His first words were that he didn’t have any secrets,” Matthias recollected.

  “Maybe he didn’t – maybe he saw more of Ben’s agenda than he wanted to,”

  “You mean he may suddenly have remembered an incident that might have had some bearing on the death?” Matthias asked.

  “Exactly so,” Sir Tobias decided.

  “Didn’t you think it strange that Ben should come home as arranged with Master Cope, and then go back into Sherborne? Did he own a horse?”

  “Oh, no. He would have walked – he and Lydia were very simple people – no great possessions – just a tiny house and some furniture Ben had made – and yes, - it was strange, although I didn’t know about it at the time. My man Davy told me after the body had been discovered.”

  “Your man Davy,” mused Sir Tobias, “How close was he to Ben? Could he throw any light on Ben’s sudden need to go back into Sherborne?”

  “I don’t think he knew, either, until Ben didn’t return as expected.” Matthias said. “Lydia came to Davy to ask him to walk out in case Ben was injured or had met thieves on the track. There was concern from Lydia, but not fear – not then.”

  They had arrived in Milborne Port, and Matthias turned the horses into his stable yard.

  “Was there fear before the news of the death arrived?” Asked Sir Tobias, preparing to dismount.

  “No, - I don’t think so – great concern, but not fear. It wasn’t something Lydia had expected at all.”

  “And this widow woman with whom Ben lodged..what do you know of her?”

  “Very little,” Matthias replied, as Davy came out of the house to hold the horses

  It was past two in the afternoon as they dismounted and waited while Davy tethered the horses, - Sir Tobias had requested that Davy should accompany them as they called on Lydia.

  It was an unexpected call, and Lydia was over-awed by both Matthias and Sir Tobias. She curtseyed to Sir Tobias, and somewhat unwillingly, invited them both in. Her mother was with her, a small, shrunken woman, looking far older than her years, but strong in spirit and well in command of her grief for her daughter’s husband, being herself no stranger to early death. The child was in a rush cradle in front of the fire in the one-roomed house, and the earth floor was well swept, although Matthias suspected that this was more the mother’s doing than Lydia’s, for Lydia herself seemed too worn out with weeping to have done any more than feed the little baby girl.

  “We won’t detain you long,” Sir Tobias began, kindly, as Lydia’s mother pulled a small wooden bench out for him to sit on.

  “Abbot Bradford did not report this death to me, and I would like to look at your husband’s body.”

  He waited for Lydia to make some response, but she remained silent, and Matthias could see she was striving to contain the tears welling in her eyes.

  “Although you do not reside in Dorset, yet he was murdered in Dorset, and I should have been informed,” Sir Tobias continued. “Is your husband’s body in the church?”

  Lydia nodded without speaking. Her mother spoke for her.

  “His coffin lies in the church, sir. Please to go and look, although it won’t help us now, will it?”

  Sir Tobias Matthias and Davy crossed the green and entered the churchyard. A small dwelling on one side housed the priest, and Davy roused him to accompany them. He was serious and dignified, but Matthias could sense his aura of self importance as he escorted Sir Tobias into the church. The church at Milborne Port had stood already for three centuries. It had seen busier times and had been attendant on many griefs. The grey, square building with its squat Saxon tower exuded an air of solidarity and ordinariness.

>   The coffin lay near the altar, already nailed. The priest sketched a blessing and carefully undid the nails.

  Ben had been tenderly dressed for burial. Lydia had been too distressed to do it herself, but the midwife had collected from Lydia the clothes she wanted Ben to be dressed in – his wedding tunic and best hose, points neatly fastened – and his hair carefully straightened.

  He looked very waxen, Davy thought, holding his breath for fear of vomiting. He moved a little further away, and the priest moved with him, his face as waxen as Ben’s.

  Matthias and Sir Tobias eased Ben onto his left side, and pulled up his white woolen tunic. He had no undergarments on, so it was easy to see what Sir Tobias had come to see – his wounds. Sir Tobias was very experienced in examinations such as this – he peered closely, and Matthias held a candle at the angle directed by him.

  “I think….I think possibly two different people…” he murmured, running his finger gently round the now congealed and crusted flesh at the wound point. It was slightly puffy, and the midwife had only skirted round the open flesh.

  “There are two entries, very close together. They are at different angles and at different strengths. A dagger thrust leaves the character of its perpetrator, Matthias. I cannot be sure, but I think Ben was attacked by two assailants, - and of course, from behind. He would have had no time to evade, and this seems to tell us that who-ever he was expecting, he had no fear of them, nor any inkling that they would attack. They knew precisely where to attack for the surest kill, so they were not amateurs. If this had been a street brawl, I would have expected scratch marks on the body, and some evidence of marks on the front as he tried to ward off blows or thrusts, but there is nothing. Just two deep stabs very close together, - look – a bruise disfiguring his face – he fell heavily – and died almost at once, I should guess. I fear this is no town brawl. These were trained men who intended death …..but why?”

  He motioned to Matthias to help him replace the coffin lid. It was a simple enough coffin, but fashioned from wood – no plain cloth shroud – and Matthias suspected that Davy had helped Lydia pay for the work – even simple coffins cost money. He must ask him and offer to help him with the cost.