by Rosie Lear
“When was this?” Matthias asked.
“Two days ago,” the boy replied.
Matthias’ eyes widened in surprise.
“And you’ve only just mentioned it?”
Master Goram had the grace to look a little penitent.
“It didn’t seem important,” he muttered. “We were disciplined, and that’s all that matters.”
“Part of their discipline was to call on the owners of the next two houses to ascertain whether their escapade had caused any damage,” Thomas explained. “I know my immediate neighbour well, but the next house changes occupants quite regularly. When they called, the house was shuttered and empty.”
Matthias digested this piece of information in silence.
“Have you searched the garden for any sign of disturbance?” he asked.
Thomas shook his head.
“No, but when I heard about the missing lad, I wondered whether he could have found his way in there to hide.”
Matthias stood up.
“Can you arrange for a messenger to be sent to Purse Caundle, to fetch Sir Tobias?” he asked Thomas.
“I’ll risk my reputation and break in to take a look for the missing boy, but I’d be far happier if Sir Tobias was on the way in case I am accused of trespass.”
Thomas arranged for a messenger to depart immediately, and the two men then skirted the garden of the house in Cheap Street. It was not so neat or kempt as Thomas’ own. Although the garden was overgrown, Matthias observed no sign of a scuffle or beating down of greenery. If this was where Roger was being held, he had entered by the front door. Matthias pressed his nose to his sleeve again.
“This dreadful odour is coming from here,” he said, as they knocked on the front door.
“I hope to God that doesn’t mean a plague house,” Thomas murmured, swallowing hard, and burying his nose in his hands.
There was, predictably, no answer, and no sound of movement from within.
There was a foothold at the back, and Matthias hauled himself up to a small window. It was glassed, and the room within appeared to be empty. Balling his fist, and using his cloak to protect his knuckles, Matthias broke the window. The odour became a stench….Matthias finally recognized it as the stench of death.
“There is something very wrong here, Thomas,” he said, “but where is it coming from?”
They stood still, listening. There was no sound but the sound of silence, which seemed to roar in their ears like thunder.
Matthias looked around the dimly lit ground floor. It was an open hall, much the same as many houses would have, and no efforts had been made to hang tapestries or wallhangings to divide the space into individual rooms; the fireplace was cold but on the floor in two neat piles were clothes of the type merchants wore. Matthias recognized them and thought immediately of the two extra monks he had seen in the procession.
There was a stair leading to an upper floor, and Thomas crossed the floor and mounted the wooden steps, Matthias close behind him.
A room at the top of the stairway would obviously have been, in better times, a family solar. Now, it was empty and damp, devoid of any life or warmth. To the left of the stairwell a narrow passage ran, along which was a second doorway – once presumably a small guest or child’s room. The door was locked, but the two men guessed that this room would yield up the source of the gut-wrenching smell.
They tried their shoulders against the door, but it would not budge. The wood was not in perfect condition, but the lock held fast.
“Halloo!” Thomas called, “Is there any one there? Can you answer me?”
There was no reply.
“I have a terrible misgiving,” Matthias said, “that this may be the missing brother of Mary. My second misgiving is that we have found him too late.”
He took his dagger to the wood, and that, teamed with the constant battering they gave the door, yielded a split in the wood, which they were able to enlarge sufficiently to enable them to see into the room.
It was a dark room with no windows. Where there had once been a window were crude wooden boards. A filthy truckle was visible on the far side of the room, and they had no need of candle-light to see that it was blood-soaked. Roger lay as if asleep, his throat cut with a neatness and competence that Matthias found chilling. Rats had been gnawing at his extremities, and even as they peered through the hole they had made, two rats glared at them with red eyes and scuttled away. The stench of death, excrement and stale air made both men retch heavily, and they backed down the stairway, hands clapped over their mouths.
Matthias leaned on the wall outside in the shabby little garden, fighting the urge to vomit. He was sweating with revulsion and fear, but anger soon took over, - anger at himself for being so amateurish and selfish in his search for Roger.
Thomas Cope, an older and gentler personality altogether, retired to the overgrown bushes at one side of the garden and came back several minutes later, wiping his mouth on a handful of fresh grass.
“We’ll stay here and await Sir Tobias,” Matthias decided. They spoke little as they waited. Sounds from the street and from the distant abbey reached them in a muted way. Leaving the front door open released some of the fetid smell of the house. Matthias’ mind dwelt on his own ineptitude and lack of purpose…he could have done....should have done more to find Roger and prevent this tragedy. Thomas sat weakly on the stone wall by the side of the house, eyes closed. He was unused to such violence.
Shortly after noon, Sir Tobias arrived with the Abbot’s bailiff, and William.
The bailiff looked shaken.
“This house was purchased by the Abbey a year ago,” he told them.
“It is to be repaired and let in the fullness of time. I had no idea there was anyone using it.”
Sir Tobias and William mounted the stairs, with Matthias behind them. His mind-set was firmly against vomiting. Thomas stayed outside, anxious now for his young scholars.
Sir Tobias nodded to the Abbot’s bailiff, who produced a key and unlocked the partially smashed door. The men looked down on Roger – such a clever thief. Whoever was behind all this had certainly not allowed Roger to get in his way.
Sir Tobias bent close to the boy. Matthias was both amazed and impressed that he could do so – the smell and sight of the lad was never the prettiest thing.
“I believe he was asleep – or unconscious when his throat was slit,” he said. “There is no sign of a struggle to defend himself. Look at his face, - he was beaten savagely.”
Roger’s blackened features were strangely out of focus to Matthias, but he swallowed hard and tried to concentrate.
“He had been beaten all over with a buckled strap, I should think”, William said, stepping forward.
“The Abbey knew nothing of this,” the bailiff blustered.
“The Abbot must tell me so himself,” said Sir Tobias.
The bailiff swallowed nervously. Sir Tobias straightened up.
“Send for two tithing men,” he ordered. “The cadaver must be removed, and the house sealed up for further investigation.”
As Matthias followed Sir Tobias down the stairs, he couldn’t help but think how glad he was that the old laws of first finder were no longer held.
Thomas was pleased to be able to scurry back to his own house after first giving Sir Tobias an account of his boys’ story. Sir Tobias would see the boys for himself later, and hear their story first-hand, he told Thomas.
The tithing men arrived, and Sir Tobias watched them with an eagle eye as they gingerly removed Roger’s mutilated and bruised body from the stinking room. On Sir Tobias’ direction, the body was taken to the town death house. Although he still feared Abbey involvement, the Abbey had no reason to wash and house the body of a boy from Oborne.
Matthias, somewhat recovered after his distressing discovery, told Sir Tobias of his counting of the monks. They were mounted and ready to journey home.
Sir Tobias stared at Matthias as he spoke.
&nb
sp; “We’re closing in, Matthias. I really believe we’re closing in. Someone is after a great treasure in the Abbey. I believe it to be the missal. Ben spoke of a book, didn’t he? The missal is indeed a book, - the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It is far too heavy to conceal as one would a simple volume. Its weight is that of a child – it would need two men and a horse to steal and carry that any distance. We have heard of merchants from France in the guesten house, extra monks in the Abbey and we’ve found the clothes of the merchants, who are obviously sliding in and out of the Abbey – the regime there is so slack that they probably didn’t need an accomplice, - just somebody local to ease their way– I begin to see the scene more clearly.”
He turned his horse towards the Abbey.
“Good Friday or not, The Abbot must see us now.”
Chapter 14
Surprisingly, Sir Tobias had no difficulty in gaining access to Abbot Bradford. The Abbot looked tired and dispirited, - not his usual arrogant self, for news of the discovery of the boy’s body had reached him.
Sir Tobias told him details of the discovery of Roger’s body and in what condition.
“He had been imprisoned in this room for at least two days I would surmise. His garments were much befouled with his own excrement, and he had been severely beaten more than once. How long had your order owned this property?”
“Nearly a year. It is our intention to expand the school house run by Thomas Copeland.”
“Have you given any thought to your beautiful missal?”
“I believe it to be a thing of great beauty – unusually perfect, which sings the Glory of God.” The Abbot sounded almost humble.
As he spoke, Prior Simon burst into the room with scarcely a knock.
“Father Abbot, - you must come – Oh, I beg your pardon, but the good Coroner may wish to see – the missal room is open – and”-
Prior Simon’s incoherence caused all three men to rise to their feet. Abbot Bradford led the way down to a stone-flagged passage, and towards the room in which Sir Tobias knew the missal was housed. There were two agitated monks guarding the door, and they stood aside as the Abbot approached. There was no need for a key – the door was already unlocked. The party stepped inside, where Prior Simon had stationed another monk to guard his prisoner. Matthias swept his eyes round the room and took in the scene. The missal was open; the glorious illustrations caught his eye at once; the luminosity shone on the pages – delicate lettering, careful line drawings and patient observation to detail glowed for all to see. He, a lover of books and learning in all its forms, caught his breath.
Abbot Bradford caught his breath for an entirely different reason. As he turned the intruder roughly to face him, it was none other than Father Samuel.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
Father Samuel’s eyes were closed in prayer, and he did not reply. Sir Tobias closed the great door behind him.
“Father Samuel, - before the Abbot and before God, are you the killer of Roger, Mary’s brother?” he asked, very directly and quietly.
Father Samuel’s eyes jerked open and met Sir Tobias’ eyes.
“No! Is the boy dead?” he gasped.
“Extremely.” replied Matthias.
“Explain this intrusion!” spluttered Abbot Bradford.
Sir Tobias held up a hand for calm.
“This is much more serious than an intrusion,” he said, “we most urgently need the full story in order to untangle the more sinister one.”
Father Samuel cast a last, longing look at the perfect page in front of him, and drew from his pocket a key.
“I have sinned,” he said, simply. “I fell on the slippery grass when helping Mistress Fosse away from the garden the day Mary died. I fell upon a key, and without knowing why I did so, I pocketed it. After a little investigation, I discovered that it was the key to this door – and its wondrous, joyful incredible missal.. which should surely be shared with all to see the Glory of God..”
The Abbot bristled. “Preposterous idea!.”
Sir Tobias interrupted him
“We are talking of three violent deaths, - not Abbey rights,” he snapped.
Father Samuel continued, “I have used the key three times only – I am careful when I touch the pages and I always return it to the page of the day. – the beauty of it is magnificent. It was never difficult to slip into the Abbey unobserved , and I was never stopped
Abbot Bradford was silent. However much he disliked the little priest, his sincerity and appreciation of the work touched him just a little.
“Father Samuel, three people have been murdered for this key,” Sir Tobias told him, soberly. “Is that really all you can tell me?”
The priest turned to face him.
“On my oath, that is all. I have slipped into the Abbey three times, each time during the evening. I have used the key, unobserved, three times and each time I have seen the missal in all its splendour. It is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen.”
“Then if that is all, we now need to set a trap for the perpetrators of the intended theft,” Sir Tobias decided.
“Theft?” Father Samuel said, startled. “Who would be able to steal this wondrous thing?”
“That is what you are going to help us discover,” Sir Tobias told him grimly.
Abbot Bradford glared at him.
“How could a priest of my choosing dare to use a key and….” Sir Tobias stopped him with a frozen look.
“If we can use Father Samuel to catch a three times murderer, and two merchants masquerading as monks within your community-“
Abbot Bradford’s jaw dropped.
“I have no monks masquerading-“ he began.
“How many monks do you have?” Matthias asked him softly.
“Twenty four” he replied.
“There were twenty six in your procession this morning,” Matthias told him. “I counted them myself.”
The Abbot was silenced.
“If Father Samuel can help us to set a trap for these false monks, and even lead us to their master, if indeed there is one, then I am sure his iniquities will be forgiven,” Sir Tobias said.
Father Abbot and Prior Simon glanced at one another.
They knew they had no choice.
Father Samuel of All Hallows left the Abbey some time during the afternoon of Good Friday. He had business of his own to attend to leading up to Easter Sunday, but he had temporarily lost his zest for a fight with Abbot Bradford. He deemed it wise to postpone that for a few months. Before Father Samuel left the shelter of the Abbey, Prior Simon let it be known to one or two carefully chosen monks of a more garrulous nature that someone had a key to the missal room. Father Samuel had no idea as he left, whether he was being followed or not.
As Sir Tobias had directed , he mentioned the discovery of the key and the sightings he had enjoyed of the missal to anyone he met – parishioners, fellow priests, - and he made no attempt to keep his voice down. As he reached his own small home, a cold shaft of fear shot through him like an arrow. The bait was laid. Who would be the taker?
Easter Sunday passed without event. Father Samuel preached to his little flock – the processional squeezed through the narrow doorway to the baptisms, and if the flock were disappointed by Father Samuel’s lack of action against the Abbot on this occasion they did not show it. Matthias and Sir Tobias tried to make themselves inconspicuous in the congregation, wary and watchful. Davy and William were elsewhere, armed, watching and waiting. Sir Tobias felt the end was near, and had despatched messengers to the Sheriff at Dorchester.
The priest from Oborne called on Matthias the Monday after Easter. He came to thank Matthias on behalf of Mary’s family, and to inform him when Roger’s burying was going to be, should Matthias wish to attend.
Before he left, he glanced anxiously at Matthias.
“Father Samuel’s mission seems a very desperate one,” he began, apologetically. “Is he to be protected in some way? I would not w
ish a further death.”
Matthias hesitated. Father Samuel had clearly spread his story well.
“I think he will be well guarded,” he replied, uncertain how much information he should impart.
“I would accompany him,” the young priest said, earnestly. “It is not right for him to undertake this task alone.”
Matthias thought for a moment. The plans laid by Sir Tobias were thorough and comprehensive, but to have a fellow priest accompany him as he walked to the Abbey would surely be an encouragement to Father Samuel.
“Father Samuel is not a fighting man – his physique is but willowy – you could be sending him to a senseless end,” urged Father Peter.
Matthias looked squarely at him. Father Peter was young, strong, physically fit, - and he must have seen Roger’s body and know the ruthless efficiency of the killer.
“Ride into Sherborne this evening,” he decided, “if the Coroner sees fit, you shall accompany him to the Abbey”
Matthew watched him ride away, lost in thoughts that were not wholly easy., although he couldn’t quite say why.
Each member of the party watched and waited. The appointed time came – and went. Of Father Samuel there was no sign. A doubt crept into Matthias’ mind as he crouched among the scaffolding and debris outside the Abbey. Where was Father Samuel? He knew only too well the importance of luring the killer from the shadows and into the light. He had promised to be there – and he had Father Peter to accompany him, with the Coroner’s blessing.
Cold horror suddenly clutched at Matthias’ heart. He suddenly knew the truth. He had watched Father Peter ride off – he couldn’t place the feeling of unease then, but he could now.
He broke from his hiding place with a shout.
“Sir Tobias! To Father Samuel’s house! Quickly!”
The urgency in his voice galvanized all into action. Footsteps pounded across the green and towards the bottom of Cheap Street where Father Samuel’s house stood back to back with the bakehouse.
The front door stood open but no light came from within.
“Torches!” called Sir Tobias, and William pounded on the bakehouse door for some light.