by Paul Doherty
‘There are the students,’ Sir Godfrey remarked, taking the tankard away from his lips.
‘Ah, yes, thirdly, a group of students from Stapleton Hall, who call themselves the Luminosi, disappear without trace. No one ever discovers any sign of them. What’s even stranger,’ Dame Edith continued, ‘is that this group vanished one by one but none of their group lodged any objection or complaint with the authorities.’
‘We are not too sure of that,’ Sir Godfrey intervened. ‘Provost Wakeham was hardly helpful and Ormiston and Beauchamp could have been more forthcoming. Surely they thought it was strange that all the students who disappeared applied for licences to avoid the curfew and visit the university library? I intend to question them on that.’ He grinned his apology. ‘But, Dame Edith, you were saying?’
‘Fourthly,’ the exorcist continued, ‘these killers strike at night. They can massacre an entire household without rousing the neighbourhood or being detected by the watch and, according to appearances, it looks as if they were invited. Master McBain, who would you invite into your lodgings at the dead of night?’
‘A nun!’
Dame Edith laughed. ‘But what would she or her ilk be doing in the narrow lanes of Oxford after the curfew?’
‘An official,’ Sir Godfrey suggested. ‘A person with a warrant. Someone who had every right to enter a house.’
‘Perhaps,’ Dame Edith replied. ‘But what else do we know?’
‘Well, fifthly,’ Alexander said, ‘we have the strange business at the Trinitarian friary. We have yet to visit there.’
‘Yes, we should,’ Dame Edith murmured. ‘There is the matter of abbot Samson’s sudden mysterious death and we must not forget that the friary is built over the site of the Strigoi’s keep.’
‘Sixthly,’ Sir Godfrey added, ‘we have the strange case of the Hospitaller fugitive. Why was he killed? Deliberately ambushed in those woods outside the city? Where did he hide his famous relic? And what do the words “Le chevalier outré mere” mean?’
‘Hush!’ Dame Edith sat up straight. She felt her heart skip a beat, a tingle of fear shivered the nape of her neck.
‘Dame Edith, what’s the matter?’
The woman trembled and put her arms across her chest. She felt her throat constrict and her mouth went dry.
‘I heard a sound.’ She grasped Alexander’s wrist. ‘Master McBain, indulge an old woman, look outside!’
Alexander stared at the wooden shutters, straining his ears for any noise above the rumble from the taproom below.
‘There’s nothing,’ he whispered. ‘The wind’s picking up, that’s all.’
Sir Godfrey got up and strode to the window. He opened the shutters and stared down at the dirty, cobbled street in front of the tavern. He glimpsed the light peeping from the half-open door and the huge, cracked sign creaking gently on its chains. He glanced to the left and right. The cold breeze caught his face, ruffling his hair.
‘Nothing there,’ he announced, but he, too, was apprehensive. He felt the same flutter of excitement in his stomach, the same tension in his neck and shoulders, that he had experienced in France when he had gone out at night to spy out the position of the French and knew their scouts were hunting him in the darkness. He looked down again. Two students rounded the corner, drunkenly singing a song. They stopped and waved up at him. Sir Godfrey sighed and closed the shutters. In the street below the two scholars quickly sobered up and slipped into the darkness, while above, on the sloping tavern roof, the black-cowled figure smiled at his narrow escape. He padded softly along the ledge and, skilfully as any cat, jumped the gap on to the roof of the adjoining house.
Inside the chamber Dame Edith relaxed.
‘Whatever it was,’ she whispered, ‘it’s gone.’
‘Tell me, domina,’ Alexander said, ‘you are a woman of considerable spiritual power. You see with your soul?’
‘No, Alexander,’ she replied, ‘that’s only what people say. I am just a hair on God’s hand. What I do, I do for him.’
Alexander grimaced. ‘What I am asking,’ he continued haltingly, ‘is that you claim these Strigoi are flesh and blood?’
The exorcist nodded.
‘But they can be weakened by powerful relics, killed by the sword and destroyed by fire?’
‘Yes, it must be fire,’ she said. ‘Remember, Alexander, what I have told you. If you kill them, their spirits simply enter their companions’ bodies and make them stronger. They must be plucked up like dead twigs and thrust into the heart of a fire. But, I’m sorry, you have another question?’
‘Yes, and I’ll put it bluntly. Could you sense one of these Strigoi? Could you, moving amongst a crowd, stop and recognize one?’
‘No, they are well disguised but, once they are discovered, perhaps I could. I remember once,’ she continued, ‘being in a town in France, I forget its name. A convicted murderer was being led across the town square to be executed at the same time as I passed. I experienced a deep terror, so violent I swooned.’
‘Are you saying,’ Sir Godfrey asked curiously, ‘that these Strigoi wander throughout Europe?’
‘Oh, yes, Sir Godfrey, there are different types of diabolical possession and this is the worst. I am sure the malefactor who died in that square was a Strigoi. Sometimes they exist by themselves, although they are more powerful if they group into a coven under a master. You see, one by himself can be discovered, but a group, cunningly led, masquerading under some pleasant guise, protecting each other, can live undetected for years.’ Dame Edith sighed and rubbed her hands together. ‘Yes, sometimes I can sense the malevolence of the Strigoi, but first they must reveal themselves.’ She smiled. ‘I have no secret power. Any man of goodwill would become uneasy in their presence.’ She paused at a loud knock on the door and the red-faced taverner waddled in, clutching a thin-faced girl by the wrist.
‘This is Laetitia,’ he announced. ‘But she can’t stay up here talking for long.’ He winked at Sir Godfrey. ‘My, it’s a bit cold, who has had the shutters open?’
Sir Godfrey pointed to the big, thick, tallow candle. ‘I did. That creates a rather nasty stench.’
‘What’s the matter with it?’ the taverner asked. ‘It’s good pig fat.’ He gestured towards the casement window at the far end of the room, unshuttered but sheeted in small squares of glass. ‘There’s not many taverns can boast glass windows. You didn’t try to open that one, did you?’
Sir Godfrey wearily shook his head.
‘Good!’ the taverner grumbled, ‘because it might fall out.’
Alexander took a coin from his purse and, smiling, pressed it into the taverner’s hand. ‘Thank you, my host,’ he said. ‘Leave Laetitia here.’ His smile widened as he looked at Laetitia’s thin, anxious face. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her gently. He pulled a stool across.
The taverner clumped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Laetitia sat and stared; the clerk looked friendly but she was frightened of the grim-faced knight and the strange old woman with her white hair and the bandage around her eyes.
‘What do you want?’ Laetitia blinked furiously to hide her fear.
Alexander touched her hand gently. ‘Just a few questions.’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she protested. ‘I’m a good girl. I work hard.’
‘What about the Brabanter?’ Alexander asked.
‘Oh, he’s gone.’
‘We know that,’ Alexander persisted gently, ‘but he was sweet on you.’
The girl pulled at a loose thread on her thin smock then gently patted her greasy brown hair.
‘He bought me trinkets,’ she said shyly. She looked up under her eyelashes. ‘Do you want to know where he’s gone?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘No. We want to know about his companions. They called themselves the Luminosi. Wasn’t Eudo upset when they disappeared?’
‘Oh, no. He said that they had been sent to different parts of the country on some mysterious s
ecret errand. He claimed he might have to go too.’
‘Who was sending them?’
‘Oh, someone they called the Gar. . .’
‘The guard?’
‘No, something like that, Gardia?’
‘Guardian?’ Dame Edith suggested softly.
‘Yes, that’s it!’ The girl clapped her hands as if she had solved a word game. ‘The Guardian was sending them.’
‘And who was the Guardian?’
Laetitia licked her lips and rammed her hands in her lap. ‘I am a poor girl,’ she added archly.
Alexander pressed a coin into her fingers. The girl looked up. She glimpsed the white face pressed against the casement window behind her three interrogators. She didn’t blink, she just stared; the face was white, the eyes large dark pools of murderous malice. A finger came up to the face’s lips as a sign for silence. Laetitia’s jaw dropped. She blinked and, when she looked again, the face had disappeared. Dame Edith felt a thudding in her head. She stared in the direction of the window.
‘What is it?’ she exclaimed, grasping Alexander’s wrist.
She felt a pang of terror as Laetitia jumped up, sending the stool behind her crashing to the floor.
‘I’ve got to go!’ the girl gabbled. ‘I have to go down now!’
Alexander, caught between Dame Edith’s reaction and the girl’s sudden outburst, stared at Sir Godfrey, who simply shrugged.
‘Girl, come back!’
Laetitia had reached the door, her hand on the latch.
‘No!’ No!” she hissed. ‘Touch me and I’ll scream! I’ll scream and say you tried to do things to me!’
‘Hush!’ Alexander said, getting to his feet.
The girl opened her mouth.
‘No, no,’ Alexander exclaimed hurriedly. ‘You can go, but what’s frightened you?’
Laetitia shook her head. Alexander stared over her shoulder at the window, but saw only the darkness outside. He looked back at the girl.
‘Listen,’ he offered, ‘go now, but if you wish to see me again come to the convent of St Anne’s and ask for Alexander the clerk. I’ll give you a gold coin.’
The girl nodded and fled out of the room.
‘What got into her?’ Sir Godfrey asked.
Alexander pulled a face.
‘She was frightened,’ Dame Edith replied, crossing her arms. ‘As I am. Sir Godfrey, Master McBain, I swear we are being watched. The Strigoi know you are in Oxford. At first they will use fear to weaken our defences but be on your guard, for they’ll strike as swiftly and deadly as vipers!’
With the exorcist’s sombre warning blighting their moods, Sir Godfrey led his companions out of the tavern and through the darkening streets, ill lit by the occasional lamp over a door post. They crossed the city and did not relax until they reached the ivy-covered walls of St Anne’s convent, where a cheery, garrulous porter let them through the postern gate.
‘The abbess is waiting for you,’ the fellow said. ‘She has been waiting all day.’
He would have launched into a longer speech but Sir Godfrey told him to be quiet and tossed the reins of their horses at him. Dame Edith said she was tired and wished to rest. A lay sister led her away to the church while another took Sir Godfrey and Alexander up to the abbess’s parlour. Dame Constance was busy sealing a number of letters and lecturing a whey-faced novice on how to melt the wax and fold the parchment so it didn’t crack. As soon as Sir Godfrey and Alexander were announced the abbess dismissed the girl, who fled with a look of relief. The abbess pushed her chair up to the pine-log fire. She served them mulled wine, using a cloth to take the hot jug out of the inglenook and fill their goblets to the brim. She then sat down between them, stretching her thin, long fingers out towards the blaze.
‘You had a fruitful day?’ she asked.
Sir Godfrey gave her a brief description of the day’s events. The abbess nodded.
‘Lady,’ Alexander said, seizing upon a silence in the conversation, ‘your porter said you had been waiting for us all day.’
‘Yes, I wanted to see you,’ Dame Constance replied. ‘Not about the matters in hand but about Lady Emily de Vere. I will choose my words most carefully. Lady Emily is not what she appears to be.’ Dame Constance watched a log snap in a splutter of red sparks. ‘She is an orphan, the king’s own ward, a wealthy heiress, but she is not as naive and helpless as she may appear. Behind that pretty face is a brain that would be the envy of any chancery clerk as well as a determined will. She can be not only stubborn but wilfully obstinate, as I have found to my cost. She chose this convent because it is near her estates. She insists on regular visits and accounts from her stewards. She even has the king himself wrapped around her little finger-though, I concede, that would not be hard. Our noble Edward, God bless him, can resist anything but a pretty face.’ Dame Constance paused and sipped from her goblet. ‘For a young woman of such tender years, Lady Emily has won herself powerful concessions. She will not only acquire her estates when she comes of age but she has the king’s own vow that she will be allowed to marry for love and not made to enter into any arranged contract.’ Dame Constance coughed. ‘She is shy, but that is her buckler or shield against the world. You see, her mother died young and she watched her father being killed at a bloody tournament near Osney. He was dragged from his horse and, by the time the physicians got to him, he was a living wound from head to toe. He died in the most terrible agonies, which Lady Emily witnessed. I believe this, too, has saddened her soul.’
‘Thank you for telling us this,’ Sir Godfrey said. ‘But,’ he grinned sheepishly at Alexander, ‘how does it concern us?’
‘Because, sir knight,’ Dame Constance snapped, ‘I may be a virgin consecrated to God, innocent when it comes to the cravings of the flesh and the lures of the world, but, sometimes, I do enjoy the cunning of the serpent.’ She laughed. ‘Let us not beat about the bush, or play cat’s-cradle with each other. Lady Emily is a lovely young woman. You are both smitten by her, are you not?’
Both men stared, embarrassed into the fire.
‘Lord save us, you men!’ she breathed. ‘So valiant in war, little doves in love.’
‘You are most forthright!’ Sir Godfrey growled. ‘Any man would be taken by Lady Emily.’
‘Ah!’ Dame Constance moved the sleeves of her gown. ‘But let’s bite into the core of the apple. You see, Lady Emily is smitten by both of you. That marks a radical difference in her affairs!’
‘Has she said as much?’ Sir Godfrey silently cursed himself, aware that he sounded like some lovelorn squire.
The abbess smiled primly. ‘Not directly. However, from the little I have seen and the few words she’s said, you don’t have to be a wise woman to detect the signs.’
Alexander squirmed in pleasure, smiling to himself as he looked into the fire. He hated this business in Oxford but, if and when it was finished, how could he keep the attention of Lady Emily? His face darkened as he recalled the abbess’s words. He stared across the fire at Sir Godfrey and was shocked to see the hard, calculating look in the knight’s eyes. We are rivals, Alexander thought. God knows how this will end.
Sir Godfrey was thinking much the same thoughts. He regretted that his friendship with this dry-humoured, sardonic clerk might end in a bitter feud but he was equally determined. He, who thought all love had died in him, loved the Lady Emily passionately.
‘I can read your thoughts,’ the abbess murmured. She took the silver chain from around her neck and held it out towards the two men. ‘Swear!’ she urged, ‘swear by this cross you will not feud over Lady Emily. At least,’ she added, ‘not until this business is finished!’
Both men stared at her. Dame Constance’s face became severe. She felt like threatening to send the young woman away, but what was the use of an oath sworn under duress? Her face softened.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘For the love of Christ! For my sake! For the sake of those killed by these terrible murderers! On your loyalty to the king and
to the Church, I beg you swear!’
Both men’s hands went out to touch the crucifix.
‘You have my oath,’ Sir Godfrey declared.
‘And mine,’ Alexander added.
Then Dame Constance put the chain back around her neck.
‘Good, then tonight you will be my guests at high table. You, Dame Edith, and, of course, the lady Emily.’
In her cell in the convent church Dame Edith carefully washed the dust from her face and hands. She rebound the silken blindfold around her eyes and knelt before the crucifix.
‘I have met them again,’ she whispered. ‘They were there, Lord, tonight. Somewhere near that tavern.’ She shivered and stared sightlessly at the tortured face of her Saviour. ‘But there was something else? What was it, Lord?’ She leaned back on her heels and let her mind float like a feather on the breeze. She allowed the distractions to flood in – the noise and stench of the city, the sweet smell of parchment at Stapleton Hall library, the sense of terror in the small chamber at the tavern, the premonition . . . Her heart skipped a beat. She clambered to her feet, biting her lower lip in anxiety.
‘Oh, Lord!’ she prayed. ‘Oh, no!’ She had recalled the premonition, lasting only a few seconds, she had had when Laetitia had refused to talk any further.
‘I put my hand down—’ Dame Edith spoke to the gaunt, whitewashed walls. ‘I put my hand down. I touched McBain’s. His hands are usually warm, soft and supple but, for those few seconds—’ She raised her finger to her lips. ‘For those few seconds,’ she whispered, ‘McBain’s hand was as cold and as hard as ice.’
In the abbess’s parlour Dame Constance was insisting on refilling her guests’ cups to celebrate the oath they had sworn when suddenly a lay sister, veil flying, bustled into the room without knocking.
‘Oh, mother abbess! Mother abbess! You must come now! You must come now!’
Dame Constance rose to her feet.
‘For God’s sake, woman!’ she snapped. ‘What is the matter? Have the French landed? Has the king arrived? Dame Veronica! Why aren’t you working in the infirmary?’