by Ian Morson
‘Ah, if only we could ask de Askeles himself.’
Hardly were Falconer's words uttered than there came a strange hissing sound, and Bullock thought he saw a flaming torch thrown across the room. But before he could make sense of what he had seen, there was a fearful flash and a thunderclap that echoed off the walls. All those present were deafened and shocked as their senses reeled. Their nostrils were assaulted by a hellish smell of burning and some undefinable, unnatural stench. Then through the sulphurous, reeking smoke there loomed a shape. It was Stefano de Askeles dressed as God, his gilded mask staring blank- eyed and accusing at those assembled. The Prior fell to his knees uttering a prayer, but most just stood open-mouthed in horror.
The figure, as if conjured from hell, drifted across the room towards the knot of actors, and began to raise one arm. They gasped as one as the terrifying shape strode past them. A long and accusatory finger was raised in the direction of Deulegard, whose mouth dropped open despite himself. It seemed to linger for an age before the Jew, then finally the apparition pointed directly at Edward Petysance. The white-faced priest spun round and made for the door at the back of the hall. Before he could reach it, Falconer knocked aside the petrified audience like ninepins, grabbing the fleeing man's robe in his fist. Spinning Petysance around, he spat the accusation in his face.
‘You did kill de Askeles, didn't you?’
The priest's face was a picture of terror, and his hands clutched the cross that hung round his neck. No words came to his trembling lips till, looking over Falconer's shoulder, he espied de Askeles's ghost seeking him out.
‘Yes, yes I did,’ he wailed. ‘Don't let him near me, please. Please!’
The figure of God was striding towards Falconer and the priest, who raised his arms to ward off the retribution. Hovering over the cowering man, the figure raised its hands on either side of its golden head and pulled off its mask, revealing the very human face of a grinning Thomas Symon. The priest sobbed.
‘You cheated me.’ Then, thinking of the cause of his original downfall, he muttered, ‘He cheated me, don't you see? He cheated me.’
Chapter Nineteen
GOD: As I have made all things of nought,
After my will and my wishing,
My first day now have I wrought,
I give it here fully my blessing.
The Fall of Lucifer
It was the following day before Peter Bullock got to draw his flagon of ale from Falconer's barrel. The previous night had been occupied with the incarceration of Edward Petysance, and the restoration of the bones from St Aldate's Church to Jehozadok. He had not had a chance to return to Aristotle's Hall. Today was different and he was not to be diverted from his pleasures - he did not even mind when the regent master told him the barrel was from Kepeharm's inn. Despite what he knew of its source, the ale did taste sweet. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and leaned back on the bench. He was seated with Falconer and the small band of troubadours around the long, scarred table that had been reinstated in its central place in the hall. Pleasant smells were drifting from the kitchen, from where also came a babble of voices as Falconer's students argued over the task, unusual for them, of cooking the planned Christmas feast. The cooking odours almost, but not completely, masked the strange smell that still hung in the air from Zerach's black powder parcel. The thunderclap had been much louder than either he or Falconer had intended - clearly Friar Bacon's mixture was more powerful than they had expected.
‘You already knew it was Petysance who killed de Askeles when you arranged the events of last evening, then?’
Falconer smiled secretively, not wishing to disappoint his friend. He had actually not been sure of anything last night, and did not wish to admit that he had depended on histrionics to smoke out the malefactor. Bullock, meanwhile, continued to worry at the puzzle like a deer-hound with a fallen stag.
‘But he truly convinced me it wasn't him when he asked about the time de Askeles had been stabbed. I still don't see how he could have been both backstage killing de Askeles, then putting the body on the throne, and talking to the King as well.’
‘It's simple - he wasn't. Because de Askeles was not murdered when we all originally thought he was.’
Agnes leaned forward with interest. ‘When was he killed, then?’
‘During the enactment of Christ's Passion.’ Falconer was emphatic. ‘I knew I had witnessed a murder - yet again - it's just that there was no body this time. The mysterious figure from out of the crowd was Petysance. When you and I spoke, Agnes, de Askeles was already dead.’
‘But we saw Stefano after that. He spoke to us when he climbed the ladder backstage, remember?’
‘No. Someone dressed as God grunted at us. We just assumed it was de Askeles because it was normally him under the mask. Remember my trick with the Saracen knight last evening? Those watching thought St George had killed him when a body fell at one side of the backcloth, only to have Robert reappear at the other side unscathed. The body was Thomas dressed in similar clothes, and the audience saw what they expected to see. We expected to see de Askeles and so we did. But it was Petysance dressed up as God we saw, and by then he had already killed de Askeles.’
Falconer shivered. ‘You said de Askeles must have gone to God's throne in drunken error. And you were partly right. Petysance must have dragged the body of de Askeles backstage and sat him up on the throne, before donning God's robe and mask himself.’
Agnes thought for a little, staring into space and trying to recall that fateful night.
‘I do recall thinking for a moment that it was not Stefano - there was something odd about his walk, and he did not seem as tall. But then I forgot about it in the relief at seeing him get to his place on time. But why take the risk of discovery at all?’
'so that he could fool us into thinking de Askeles was still alive. And place himself elsewhere at the supposed time of death. He is a very quick thinker, our angry priest. Resurrecting de Askeles from the dead was a risk, but one worth it to throw us off the scent. John's swordplay was an unexpected but additional benefit. And that should have been the end of the matter. The trouble was with the state of the body, was it not, Peter?’
Bullock coughed non-committally, and took a deep draught from his ale. He had not really understood what Falconer's and Bonham's examination of the body had revealed to them, besides there being an additional wound. But he was not going to reveal his ignorance. Fortunately Falconer proceeded eagerly with his story.
‘If he had been killed shortly before we lifted him off the throne, either by John Peper or by someone else in the time between the Ascension and the Last Judgement, his blood would not have had time to pool in his lower extremities before we laid him flat. It would have pooled across his whole back. The fact that the blood showed he had been in a seated position for some time after death meant the body had been sitting up for some time.
‘After Petysance had played the part of God, it was simple for him to slip back down the ladder and dress de Askeles in the white robe and mask. There was no reason for anyone else to be behind the scenery at the time. Unfortunately, he couldn't get the robe fully down the corpse's back, which had already stiffened in the chair. That explains why the blood from de Askeles's death wound was on the hem, and the cloth was caked in bloody folds. Oh, and he made one other error - de Askeles's eyes were closed.’
‘What does that show?’ asked Agnes with curiosity.
‘As he was violently murdered his eyes would have been wide open. The murderer must have closed them. And it is the instinct of a priest when faced with a body to close the eyes before the death rigor sets in. Even that little matter pointed to Petysance as the killer.’
‘Why kill at such a time, with so much chance of discovery? If he knew about de Askeles's trickery, why had he not taken action before?’
‘Because he did not know before. It was only during Christ's Betrayal that John betrayed de Askeles as a way of getting back at
him. Then the priest acted on the spur of the moment, using the chaos behind the stage to hide his deed. No doubt he was provoked by de Askeles when he confronted him, too.’
‘Wait a moment, master.’ It was Margaret who broke in now. ‘How do you know John told him?’
Falconer smiled ruefully.
‘Ah. Because I spoke to him.’
Margaret gasped.
‘He is here?’
‘Yes. You see, one of my students heard some noises early yesterday morning in my neighbour's yard. They were coming from the pigsty, and as the previous occupant is going to grace our table today it was clear it could not have been the pig. I went down to investigate and found a very frightened and cold John Peper huddled in the corner of the sty. After I managed to persuade him he was not a fugitive in my eyes, he agreed to accept my hospitality.’
At that point, a sheepish John Peper stepped into the hall, dressed in borrowed and rather ill-fitting clothes, and unsure of the reception he might get from his wife and fellows. He should not have been concerned - they rose from the table and clustered around him, Will performing a clumsy somersault in his joy. They stood back a little as he held out a tentative hand to Margaret, who unhesitatingly grasped it and drew her husband back to the table with her.
A pitcher of ale, drawn from the barrel, was passed around the happy band of revellers. But Falconer was surprised to see a frown still on the constable's face.
‘Is something still troubling you, Peter?’
‘If Petysance only had cause to kill de Askeles the other night, then who attempted to kill him earlier, when Brother Adam died in his stead? It could not have been John because we now know where he was.’
His sharp eyes bore into the embarrassed Peper, who had hoped that his act of grave robbery had been forgotten. Falconer leaned back and explained. 'thinking that the two killings were carried out by the same person only confused matters. When I realized they were not, the scales fell from my eyes. It was you, Peter, after all, who said de Askeles had more enemies than Emperor Frederick.’
Bullock had no intention of reminding Falconer that he himself had said only the previous night that two murders, carried out so close in time, were likely to be associated. He did not want another lecture. He did look carefully around the room, and whispered in his friend's ear that those present were still then suspects for the first murder. After all, the carpenter's tool Margaret obtained from Godrich was still missing, and she could not prove it was not the chisel that killed the monk.
Falconer laughed and fished an object out of his purse. ‘I suppose you mean this.’ He opened his hand and in it lay a long pointed sort of bodkin with a well-worn wooden handle. Bullock looked at the bradawl in astonishment.
‘Where did you find it?’
‘In the bottom of the monkey's cage, along with a lot of other gewgaws. Ham is obviously a hoarder of objects that take his fancy. He must have stolen it from Margaret, so the weapon she had and the deadly chisel were not one and the same. I found it this morning, by the way - like you, I wanted to clear up the matter of Brother Adam, which we seemed to have forgotten in the excitement of last night.’
'then if it wasn't Margaret or John Peper, who was it?’
Peter prayed it was not Agnes, for whom he had a certain affection.
‘I told you all along to check the carpenter. Yesterday, I spoke again to his wife, poor woman, and she admitted he had come home the day of Brother Adam's death threatening to kill someone who had shamed him in front of his fellows. I imagine that must have been de Askeles. The man was a drunkard and hot-tempered enough to carry out his threats. She even showed me a bloody jerkin he left behind when he deserted her. I have no doubt it's Brother Adam's blood. He was also earning money to spend on drink by revealing travellers' movements to the robbers in our vicinity.’
He put out a hand to stop the constable who was rising from the table.
‘Don't worry. I have already passed on his name to the King's officers, so he will be taken and will pay for all his crimes. If the robbers do not despatch him first - as a fugitive himself, he's no longer any use to them.’
Suddenly the kitchen door burst open and Thomas led out the students who had toiled there, singing lustily. ‘Lordings, Christmas loves good drinking, Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou, English ale that drives out thinking, Prince of liquors old or new. All the sweets that love bestows, Endless pleasures wait on those Who, like vassals brave and true, Give to Christmas homage due.’
With that, two students emerged from the kitchen, pink-faced and sweating. Between them, on a battered pewter platter, they bore a steaming pig's head with something held between its teeth. They brought it to the head of the table, where Falconer sat, and he extracted his eye-lenses to examine the delicacy the pig had in its mouth. It was a book. Falconer roared with laughter - he knew what the text would be, and hoped Aristotle did not mind.
EPILOGUE
History books do not record a reason for the attack by Jews on the clergy in 1268. Persecuted and hated as they were in England at the time, it perhaps should be no surprise that they would retaliate against persistent attacks on them by their host community. What is recorded is the compensation exacted from the Jews for their action. The offenders had to atone by setting up a great marble cross in the street, and by providing a replacement silver crucifix to be used in processions on ceremonial days. Nothing more was heard of the holy arm of St Eldad.
Much as he thought, King Henry had to resolve the matter of the disinherited knights himself. His son, Edward, used hurdles and planks to build bridges on to the isle of Ely and overcame the rebels.
Of the little band of troubadours - Will Plome, Margaret and John Peper, Agnes Cheke, Simon Godrich and Robert Kemp - there is nothing chronicled. Such is the fate of little people who are not involved in affairs of church or state, nor in the running of an important monastery or priory. They may appear as magicians to the common herd, and may have a profound impact on their mundane lives, bringing a short moment of pleasure. But their deeds are not deemed worthy of permanent record.
Rabbi Jehozadok and Zerach de Alemmania both died and were buried in the Jewish cemetery outside East Gate before the general expulsion of the English Jews by King Edward in 1290. All trace of Deulegard, Cressant and the other Jews is lost at this time.
Thomas de Cantilupe never quite recovered the official status he had enjoyed as Chancellor of England for the rebel Simon de Montfort. However, his diplomatic and devious skills allowed him to become a close adviser to de Montfort's enemy King Henry, and to his son Edward I.
Richard Bonham paid the price for his clandestine curiosity and died of typhus soon after the events described here. It is thought he contracted the disease from an infected body he was anatomizing.
Thomas Symon remained at Oxford, becoming in his turn a regent master of the Faculty of Arts despite further involvements with William Falconer that threatened to divert him from his studies. He later played a part in the founding of University College.
Peter Bullock died a warrior's death as he might have wished. His soldier's instinct deserted him for once, and he stepped in the way of a rusty sword wielded by a student in the midst of a pitched battle between northern and Welsh clerks. But not before he was involved in many more mysteries unraveled by his friend Regent Master Falconer.
William Falconer was to have many further adventures, occasioned by his insatiable curiosity. He is said to have returned to traveling later in life, reaching as far as Cathay, or China. He did finally make contact again with his life-long friend and mentor, Friar Roger Bacon. Whether he completed his Summa Philosophise is not known, as no properly attributable text exists.
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