Philip twisted his abbot’s ring round and round on his finger before he spoke. ‘I am figuratively kneeling at your feet,’ he began. ‘Dear people, I beg your utmost discretion in what I am about to say. Do I have it?’
There were murmurs of acquiescence.
‘You already know of our predicament here at Netley, the sums we have to pay in order to continue in our service to God. And now – ’ the ring twisted and its balas ruby like a drop of blood in a shaft of sunlight winkling through a chink in the half-closed shutters and the abbot looked so eaten with anxiety he was scarcely able to continue. ‘My brothers, sister, friends, we have lost...because of the storm last night...a most valuable import. It would have saved us from the current depredations of our protector...but now it is lost, doubtless never to be seen again.’ He gave a groan and reached for the edge of the lectern to steady himself as he rose to his feet. ‘That is unimportant, dear people. It is nothing, it is negligible, of course, when compared to the death of our dearly beloved Brother Martin.’
Gregory, perhaps imagining the abbot on his actual knees before them and wishing to ease his joints, broke in, ‘And how may we assist you, my lord?’
The abbot gave him a piercing glance. ‘I see you here in our midst as strangers from another part of the world. Your minds will be unsullied by prejudice or pre-conceived ideas. You will therefore be the more open to the truth of what happened that dreadful night. No presuppositions will cloud your minds. Your own abbot suggested the idea. I want you to find out how Martin died – and who caused his death.’
‘Is that all?’ muttered Egbert under his breath.
‘My lord,’ Gregory humbly bent his head, ‘may I beg you to reconsider your request? We cannot assume anyone caused his death until the coroner has seen him. Then, if such is the case, I beg you to tell us where to start. We will gladly do as you ask in the matter of discretion.’ He turned to his two companions. ‘I’m sure we are agreed that such a heinous crime...if there is one... must be punished and the criminal brought to justice?’
They were outside standing in the middle of Cloister Garth where no-one could overhear them. As they left the abbot’s lodging the prior had replaced his subordinate and was loitering inside the porch. He had given them a supercilious smile as if he knew full well the task given them and was equally convinced of their imminent failure.
Now Egbert kicked a stone. ‘Why us? Doesn’t he trust his own monks?’
‘There’s something behind it,’ Gregory agreed.
‘Have they decided under whose jurisdiction the body was found?’ asked Hildegard. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with that.’
‘If he pre-empts the authority of the Sheriff and the Coroner they may back off. It would be a way of keeping the whole business under the control of Abbot Philip himself.’
Hildegard nodded. ‘But why the secrecy?’
‘He won’t want it to be known to this protector of his that they’ve lost the means to pay up.’ Egbert ran his fingers through his grizzled tonsure.
‘When is the coroner expected? He’ll no doubt confirm what we all suspect. Brother Martin wasn’t known to have an ague was he?’
Gregory frowned. ‘It would be some coincidence for sickness to take him in the situation in which he was found.’
‘So what now? Wait it out until the authorities arrive?’ Egbert, ready for action of any kind, looked thwarted.
Hildegard shook out her sleeves. It was still unbearably hot. ‘We can’t do much more than act on a supposition – that the poor monk was murdered, as it seems. Perhaps we need to find out when he went on board. Was someone already there who could have given him poison?’ For Alaric’s sake, she hoped he had not been the figure climbing on board via the anchor chain.
Egbert made a scoffing sound. ‘That puts the crew under suspicion. I can’t imagine a rough and ready sailor having a dose of poison at the ready to give to any stray monk who happened to board his ship. He’d be more likely to use a gutting knife, if murder was his inclination. Poison?...Never.’
‘They carry all kinds of cargo on these trading vessels,’ Gregory pointed out.
‘True.’ Egbert frowned. ‘Even so...’
‘We need to know who was on board.’
‘And how are we going to do that? Confusion reigned. Dozens of people went out there, nobody able to say for sure who was or who wasn’t.’ Egbert threw up his hands. ‘What I’d really like to know is why Abbot Philip has put the burden onto us? We have Hubert to blame for this.’
‘We can’t rule the crew out yet.’ Gregory continued a more direct line of thought.
‘They were all off the ship before the body was discovered. It was the last man, the ship man himself, who found him when he was making his final check. They were all certainly on board at the time it happened.’
‘I’ll go and talk to him. Find out what he has to say about devils at the same time.’
They were standing by the fountain in the middle of the garth by now and Gregory sluiced fresh water over his face.
‘Why would anyone in the crew want rid of a harmless monk?’ Hildegard puzzled, following suit. ‘More to the point, why was Martin there? See if the shipman has any idea about that.’
Egbert splashed water over his head then rubbed the hair dry round his tonsure. He glanced round at the sun-baked garth. ‘Let’s get out of this sun. I’m beginning to fry.’
Hildegard hesitated. ‘I’ve got to see someone. I’ll meet you in the cloisters later, shall I?’
‘Come with me, Egbert. A flagon of ale should sort it out.’ Turning to Hildegard, Gregory put his fingers to his lips. ‘Remember, sealed as the tomb wherein forever we shall lie.
The whole thing was beginning to turn into one of those puzzles best left alone. But they could not do that because their host, on whose goodwill the health of their own abbot rested, had asked their help. Hubert, proud of the honour of Meaux, would be disappointed, too, if they failed.
Chapter Three
To begin with she strolled over to join the pilgrims huddled in a sweltering group in their favourite haunt in the shade of the cloister nearest the gate house.
‘It looks as if you pilgrims have to stay here for a few days more, lacking a ship,’ she greeted as they made space for her on cushions someone had brought out. ‘Is there any news of an alternative?’
Delith was fanning herself with the edge of her kerchief as usual and did not look up. For some reason she did not mention the rumour of an alternative ship that the merchant was trying to put on. Ignoring everyone, she was playing with her blackbird while her little maid with her little halo of blonde curls, sat with knees drawn up on a separate cushion apart. Master John, himself, did not mention an alternative vessel either.
The two sisters and the avid reader and one or two others who had lately arrived at the abbey in the expectation of a voyage to France were also present. The so-called merchant from Winchester, Lionel, wearing his yellow cotte was sitting nearby, not in the group and not out of it, his sturdy bare legs swinging idly where he sat on the wall. That he was aware of the three mercenaries and their endless dicing further along the cloister was clear and Hildegard wondered how long it would be before he joined them and let down his pretence of respectability.
Lissa was the first to acknowledge her arrival. ‘I worry that my dear old husband will be too ill to go on board if we have to wait long, domina. This was to be his last journey abroad.’
Hildegard glanced round, ‘Where is he just now’
‘Lying on his bed. The heat is too much for him, poor old fellow.’ She made a playful pull on Master John’s sleeve. ‘You seem unbothered by the heat, John, if I may say so.’
‘London gets much hotter than this. All those houses jam-packed together with not a breath of air able to get in from the river.’He was preoccupied and did not respond to her teasing manner.
‘You look tired, friend,’ remarked the yellowish man lifting his head from his book for
a moment.
‘I’m not surprised.’ Lissa turned to him. ‘You’d be tired if you’d had to worry about getting the cargo off this morning. I believe you were out before Prime, John?’
‘You would not see me in church at Prime...that is so. I was organizing the removal of the goods that could be saved. So much smoke damage. I’m ruined but at present have no idea how to compute the extent of my fall.’
‘Poor Mistress Beata,’ Lissa murmured.
Delith lifted her head.
‘Come now, master, someone will have you insured.’ Mistress Sour, playing with a string of wooden beads threaded round her neck, leaned over to console him.‘Isn’t that so?’ She turned to her sister.
But Ceci was threading a green ribbon through one of the straw hats and when Genista nudged her she glanced up. ‘I’m sure the master has considered that. Even so it must be saddening to find that the beautiful things one has bought are damaged or destroyed. Things brought in with much trial and tribulation from afar. Have you managed to save much, John?’
‘Some things,’ he replied in deepest gloom. ‘Who can say until we’ve compared the inventory with what’s lost?’
‘Where are the goods you’ve taken off?’ persisted Mistress Sour.
‘Safe in the abbot’s store. He has everything under lock and key with a guard on duty. For what good that will do me now. We checked the amount of bales going in this morning while you were all at your prayers but could not do much else. ’
‘Cheer up,’ replied Mistress Sweet. ‘Never say all is lost. There’s always a way out. Forget not, there is always something to sell and always someone willing to buy.’
Master John gave a sceptical grimace then softened as he looked into her upturned face. ‘Your advice is welcome, mistress. Never admit defeat. No, we must never do that.’
Did any of the others know a body had been found, Hildegard wondered. It seemed not to be the case because the next moment Lissa gave a sigh and said, ‘At least no-one was drowned. It’s quite remarkable. What are mere material goods compared to the saving of lives?’Murmurs of agreement followed. Master John inspected his fingernails and admitted nothing.
Hildegard was glad when one of the lay-brothers approached bearing a pitcher and some beakers. ‘The kitchener has taken pity on you all,’ he announced. ‘He sends his best ale and begs you to make the most of your enforced sojourn here.’
While everyone was helping themselves to beakers and holding them up to be filled Hildegard took the opportunity to ask, ‘Is Alaric still helping you in the kitchen just now?’
‘Not him! He’s swimming as he does whenever he has a spare moment and after that he’ll attend Friar Hywel and help in the Great Work.’
She smiled as if it was of no more than passing interest. While John was fretting about going back on board the St Marie to make sure they hadn’t missed anything, Delith was playing with her bird in a queenly manner and ignoring everyone. The others were lying listlessly in the heat and for a time no-one moved until at last Lissa rose with the words, ‘I’d better see how that husband of mine is faring, poor old fellow.’ She glanced at John as she spoke. ‘Would you like me to call in on Beata, John?’
‘That would be a kindness, Alicia. Please inform her I shall be along as soon as conditions permit.’
Lissa. John. Beata.
And then there was Delith.
‘I think I’ll take a stroll by the river,’ Hildegard announced. ‘It’s so hot in the shade it doesn’t seem to make any difference where we are. Look, there’s not a breath of air.’
She pointed to the trees on the other side of the abbey wall. Their branches were motionless, like the woven trees in Abbot Philip’s tapestry.
Leaving Lissa at the door to the guest house she took her time to go outside the precinct. As she wended her way along the path to the river bank no-one came out to check their cargo on the St Marie.
The little lay-brother with the welcome flagon of ale was accurately informed. A group of lads were splashing about in the shallows. Southampton Water lay before her like a sheet of blue fallen from the sky
She went down onto the strand to find somewhere to sit so she could watch. One of them made a perfect cartwheel off the side into the sparkling depths.
Alaric.
When he surfaced he gave a shout and began to egg the other boys on to do the same but none of them had his grace and training. One or two jumped in with a lot of ungainly splashing and, jeering, Alaric swam under the jetty and tried to pull the others in by their ankles. They retaliated by splash-bombing him and the whole gang disappeared under a surge of spray, shouting and yelling with delight when they surfaced. To Hildegard it looked blissful. They had chosen the only cool place on such a day.
Patiently she sat on the shingle and watched. She felt uncomfortable in the heat, her summer robe sticky and hot, and eventually, unable to stop herself, she closed her eyes against the sun when the aquatic stunts began to tire her. He could not stay in the water forever.
Later, she had no idea how much later, the resonant toll of a bell drifted from the direction of the abbey calling the boys back to their duties and with evident reluctance they ran to claim their tunics where they were piled on the beach close to where she sat. They were beginning to drag them on over their wet skin as Alaric sprinted up last, shaking brilliants from his hair and grinning when he saw Hildegard. Comical in his wet breeks, he gave a bow as perfect as any seen at court.
‘Are you not allowed in the water, domina?’
‘Not with all these people around.’ She indicated a few fishermen mending nets further along the beach.
‘I can show you a more secluded pool down at the other end if you wish?’He held out a hand. ‘Would you like to see?’
‘Don’t you have to go to your chores?’
‘Only to face Master Hywel and his perpetual disdain.’ He pulled a face. ‘I welcome an excuse to be late for that trial.’
She got up as he began to pull on his tunic.
‘I’d be delighted – if you’re sure you won’t get into trouble?’
‘Of course I’ll be in trouble. But I’d be in trouble anyway, whatever I did, you know what he thinks of me...’ he broke off. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to denigrate...’
She laughed. ‘I know. He doesn’t choose to hide his opinions. I’m sure he would be the first to agree with what you say of him. I believe he is not ignorant of his faults.’
‘You’re right. It’s quite painful. He’s so intent on perfecting himself in order to engage in his Magnum Opus, nothing less than perfection in those around him will do. The Great Work is all he thinks about. But he’s stewing now because he imagines God sent a lightning-bolt to express his displeasure at the book he asked to be sent from Outremer. Can you believe such reason and folly exist in the mind of one man?’
Surprised at Alaric’s opinion of Hywel she allowed him to escort her along the beach. The other boys ran off up the bank towards the gatehouse as the bell continued to toll.
‘Why do you have such an opinion of him?’ she asked as they began to walk along the bank.
Alaric looked at her sideways. ‘I would expect a man of learning which he undoubtedly is to have a surer grasp of his small place in the world. The truth of Scripture as it is taught us and the absence of power we have to determine the actions of God – if he exists in the form we are told – should make him both more humble and less critical of his own sense of powerlessness.’
‘That’s a complicated thought, Alaric. Do you mind my asking how old you are?’
‘I reckon I’m about eighteen or nineteen. I met a priest once who talked to me about belief and how there are other ways of thinking about it than the one we’re taught. It made sense to me. That’s why...’ he bit his lip.‘Am I saying too much?’
‘I doubt whether any of us can say too much. Saying too little is worse. Hiding resentment and confusion in our hearts seems to me to be a sin against ourselves as well as a
gainst truth.’
‘Truth? Where does that come in when we’re told what it is instead of being free to work it out ourselves?’
‘Why are we given the power to reason if not to use it?’Thinking it best to mention the name that hovered over this exchange – an omission that might lead to confusion – she said, ‘Magister Wyclif would have agreed with you. He thought we could come to understand ideas ourselves, without being coerced into belief by those who’ve assumed authority over us.’
His expression did not show surprise so she continued, ‘He was attacked by those churchmen who believe we’re best left in ignorance...not just bishops and all the rest,’ she hastened to add, ‘but women monastics too. Some of those prioresses, not my own, I’m pleased to say, but others I’ve met daren’t take so much as a drink of water without first checking whether it’s allowed or not.’
He threw his head back, his fine, fair face lifted to the sun. ‘Praise the cherubim and all the saints! It’s a joy to hear you say that. I dare not speak my mind here.That’s why I want to learn to read. Armed with direct knowledge of what the Bible says I’ll be able to counter the arguments of all-comers.’
‘I hope you’ll always bear in mind your own safety. The times we live in are not kind to free-thinkers.’
They came out from a stand of willows and Hywel turned his blazing, open, youthful smile on her. ‘Are some things worth the risk of dying for, do you think?’
‘That’s for each of us to decide for ourselves.’
‘Some say the flame of truth must be protected at all costs in case darker forces put it out forever.’
‘So they say.’
He pointed down the slope. ‘Look! There’s the pool I promised. See how secluded it is? I often swim here when I’m sick of my dear lay-brothers and their constant talk of sheep.’
‘It looks deep, with a swift current further out.’
‘It is. Treacherous. Stay near the bank and only venture in if you can swim. It’s worth the challenge for the pure joy of swimming in such peace and beauty. You can swim, can’t you?’
The Alchemist of Netley Abbey: Eighth in the Hildegard of Meaux medieval mystery series Page 16