Hermitage, Wat and Some Nuns

by Howard of Warwick

  Hermitage didn’t know how to respond to this. It seemed a genuine compliment. Hermitage had never had one before.

  ‘You want to know if I killed Gilder.’

  ‘What,’ said Hermitage, back to his flustered self. ‘No, I, er, that is, of course not.’

  ‘I would if I were you.’ Cuthbert seemed quite happy to discuss the topic.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. I am a tenant of Gilder. I may have a lot to gain from his death.’

  ‘Well, yes, but-’

  ‘But a man of God would not commit murder.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ In this abbot’s case, Hermitage was sure that was true.

  ‘Although I know some who would.’ Cuthbert winked as if murderous churchmen were on a list somewhere. ‘And of course I wouldn’t really have anything to gain. Gilder’s estate remains, his rents must be paid and they’ll doubtless go to the son.’

  This was all going too fast for Hermitage. He hadn’t even thought what he was going to say when he found the monastery of Bromfield. Now here he was discussing the murder with its abbot.

  ‘I suppose the son might be persuaded that charging rent to a monastery is an outrageous sin and drop it altogether, but you never know.’

  The woman returned to the room and put wine, bread and cheese on the table. She left again, tutting at anyone drinking wine before nightfall.

  ‘I, erm, gather,’ Hermitage started, reluctantly.

  ‘Yes?’ Cuthbert encouraged.

  ‘That you knew Gilder quite well,’ he plunged on.

  ‘Aha,’ the abbot seemed to be congratulating Hermitage for a piercing question.

  ‘I did indeed. One of the few people who had unfettered access to him, so a very likely murderer.’

  This was most peculiar. Surely those suspected should not be throwing themselves into it with quite such enthusiasm.

  ‘So I had a motive and I had the opportunity.’ Cuthbert nodded at his own thought.

  That was an interesting way of looking at it, Hermitage thought. He might use that again.

  ‘But of course I didn’t do it. It’s probably worth getting that out of the way.’

  Hermitage was relieved. It had sounded like the abbot was talking his way to the gallows.

  ‘I did see Gilder often though. He demanded his rents with enthusiasm and it was as well to be close. He also needed a surfeit of spiritual guidance. I imagine you have determined that he was not a well-liked fellow?’

  ‘That has been a bit of a theme,’ Hermitage acknowledged.

  ‘And a justified one. Gilder was awful. A really dreadful, sinful and appalling man. That’s not so bad in someone who has no influence over others. The sinful peasant might irritate his animals, or do wrong to his family, but someone in Gilder’s position, someone with his money, could do the most enormous damage to the whole town.

  ‘He sets an example others follow. Where he cheats, lies and robs, they do likewise. Not only was he bad for the town but he harmed his own interests - although he was too inward looking to notice. People went out of their way to avoid their payments, to damage his reputation and to put people against him. If he hadn’t died I could see the whole town rising against him one day.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ Hermitage hadn’t realised that being bad could lead to such consequences. Bad people just went on being bad until they died, when God would deal with them. The rest of the world just had to put up with them in the meantime. And God would reward them for doing so.

  ‘So I did my best to temper his worst excesses.’ Cuthbert gave a humble shrug. ‘Who knows how successful I was. He was still truly ghastly but might have been even worse. If such a thing is conceivable.’

  ‘You kept close to make sure he did the least evil.’

  ‘Not a very laudable ambition, but in Gilder’s case the best that could be achieved, I fear.’

  ‘When did you see him last?’

  ‘What an excellent question brother,’ Cuthbert said, ‘exactly pertinent to the matter in hand.’

  Hermitage beamed at the praise.

  ‘I saw him the day he died. Another problem for your, what would you call it? Inquiry perhaps, from in quaerere, to ask into or seek?’

  ‘A very good suggestion father.’ Hermitage was on comfortable ground. ‘To date I have been applying the root vestigare, to track. Hence investigation.’

  ‘Investigation eh? Investigator,’ the abbot tried the words on his tongue. ‘I investigate, you investigate, he, she or it investigates? Past participle investigated? Neat declension but perhaps a little long? Not sure the ordinary folk will get the hang of it such that it would ever become common parlance. Still, good enough.

  ‘Yes, I saw Gilder the day he died. That very afternoon in fact. He had been about to evict the midwife from her house for not collecting her fees from the mothers fast enough. He had suggested that if they didn’t pay she should put the baby back in again. She explained in quite flowery language exactly where she’d put a baby if Gilder would present himself properly and so he took it into his head to throw her out of town.’

  ‘But the mothers?’

  ‘Exactly. I had spent most of the day pointing out that mothers and children would die. When that had no effect I detailed how husbands with pitchforks and swords would come and try to do to Gilder what the midwife did to the mothers. He just about came round, as long as I went to the midwife to get the money. I left him later in the day to do just that, once I was sure he wasn’t going to change his mind as soon as I’d gone.’

  Hermitage gaped. ‘Father, you have had a great burden.’

  Cuthbert beamed and held his hands out to accept that burden. ‘But one that suits my nature, I believe. Gilder tolerated me and the people of the town seemed grateful for my ministrations. I do seem able to take two opinions on the verge of war and persuade them that they actually agree with one another. I don’t know how, really, but it seems to work. Mind you, the midwife’s opinion of monks is not what it was. You might like to avoid her for a day or two.’

  It hadn’t even occurred to Hermitage that he would need to talk to a midwife, but he nodded anyway. He was perfectly happy with the abbot’s tale, and that the man would not lie. He probably couldn’t - although placating opposing forces might call for some flexibility. It was probably part of his success that he would not tell an outright untruth.

  ‘We have heard that Gilder was about to send a message to you, the moot and the nuns,’ Hermitage said.

  ‘Really?’ Cuthbert was surprised. ‘He made no mention of that.’

  ‘Is it something he would normally do?’

  ‘He was always sending messages here and there. I tried to intercept those of the most insulting or inflammatory nature, but he was his own man at the end of the day.’

  ‘Abbess Mildburgh seemed particularly angry about Gilder.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ said Cuthbert, ‘Sister Mildburgh does not need anything specific to be angry about, she has her own internal well of anger. And it seems to be bottomless.’ He smiled at this and chuckled slightly.

  Hermitage imagined that chuckling in the face of Mildburgh would make her really cross.

  ‘The moot must be grateful that Gilder is gone?’ Hermitage suggested.

  ‘Very likely,’ Cuthbert acknowledged, ‘but they are as short of sight in their views as Gilder. If they could have money today and chop their toes off tomorrow, they’d take the money. Their greatest ambition seems to be to die rich. What use is that? Far better, surely, to have been rich, done good and die poor?’

  Hermitage thought that being poor from start to finish would be even better, but he didn’t like to interrupt.

  ‘This message would have been sent by young Hendig?’

  ‘Aha, yes.’ Cuthbert gave another chuckle. ‘An impudent and rather devious fellow, but not one who would deal with Gilder in such a manner, I believe. His interests rested with Gilder. Unlikely to want him dead.’

  Hermitage sighed. ‘We
seem no further forward. We have no one who was with Gilder at the time of his death and a number of people who might want him dead.’

  ‘I suspect dear brother,’ said Cuthbert, ‘that you haven’t even skimmed the scum off the pond of people who wanted him dead. If you talk to everyone in the town you will have a multitude of reasons.’

  Hermitage pondered. If he really could not get to the bottom of this, Gilder’s killer would go free. And everyone in Shrewsbury would be very pleased. But then what happened when a new Gilder arose? Some merchant was bound to take over, that was what merchants did. The feelings of the town would remain, as would the killer. Before you knew what happened the second Gilder would be dead as well. Killers could not be left to their murderous devices.

  He thought about who the last person to see Gilder alive might have been. The abbot here? More likely Hendig. He then concluded that the very last person to see Gilder alive would be the one who killed him. That had got him no further forward either.

  ‘What time did you leave Gilder to go to the midwife?’ he asked.

  ‘Ah, brother, I can see that you have found your calling. What an excellent question.’

  Hermitage smiled broadly once more.

  ‘Let’s see,’ Cuthbert steepled his fingers in thought. ‘Monday was rent day for many in the town, including the midwife. I always tried to be at Gilder’s side on a Monday in case he got any truly dreadful ideas into his head. Not getting his rent always excited him. When the midwife arrived and they had their altercation he hatched his plan. It took most of the day to dissuade him from going after her there and then. He usually gave people overnight to come up with the rent.’

  ‘Generous of him,’ said Hermitage, sarcastically.

  ‘Not really,’ Cuthbert explained, ‘he said he liked them to spend a night worrying about what was going to happen. Softened them up.

  ‘So I saw the midwife on Monday evening and came back to Gilder on Tuesday. I spent at least until lunchtime in debate with him. He seemed to think that as he had his rent, the midwife was no longer necessary. It must have been soon after the midday meal that I left.’

  ‘So, you took your meal with Gilder?’

  ‘Oh, good heavens no. No one took a meal with Gilder.’

  ‘Ah,’ Hermitage was disappointed to hear another feature of the merchant’s ill-humour, ‘he was never hospitable.’

  ‘He did eat food but it was never anything I’d want to put in my mouth,’ Cuthbert corrected. ‘Probably too much of an indulgence to have anything edible.’

  ‘Hendig said he saw Gilder some time that afternoon, probably after you.’

  Cuthbert nodded thoughtfully. ‘Hendig was usually in attendance most days, in case anyone urgently needed a threatening message.’

  ‘Usually?’

  ‘He wasn’t there for the morning but I did see him heading for Gilder’s house as I left. Probably to collect his tasks.’

  ‘Hm,’ Hermitage frowned. ‘All roads lead to Hendig.’

  ‘A simple messenger,’ Cuthbert suggested.

  ‘Perhaps this particular message was so awful Hendig had to make sure it was stopped?’

  ‘Awful messages never normally bothered him. And as I say, he’s not likely to want Gilder dead, he would lose regular income.’

  Hermitage cast his mind back to the discussion with Hendig and Balor. The young man was certainly embroiled in the business of Gilder, but would he kill? It took a lot to kill someone, Hermitage imagined, never having done it. Mind you, the Normans seemed very keen on it so perhaps it wasn’t that hard.

  Hendig and Balor. Now there was a thought. ‘Oh, heavens,’ he gave his thought air.

  ‘What is it, brother?’ Cuthbert asked. ‘Have you discovered something?’

  Hermitage hesitated to accuse someone without certainty, but Abbot Cuthbert would be a useful test of the theory.

  ‘Hendig is close friends with Balor,’ Hermitage pointed out.

  ‘Yes, I think that it is well known.’

  ‘The same Balor who will inherit Gilder’s fortune.’

  ‘I imagine so,’ Cuthbert nodded.

  ‘The same Balor who will doubtless continue to employ his friend, if not promote him significantly.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Cuthbert, seeing the issue clearly.

  ‘I believe master Hendig has some more explaining to do,’ said Hermitage, grimly.

  Investigation was all well and good, the thought processes involved could be quite stimulating but he didn’t want to be King’s Investigator. Every time he looked into something it ended up in a confrontation of some sort. Usually with a killer, and they were the most unpleasant people.

  If he had to be Investigator - and he acknowledged that he did, perhaps he could just do the investigation bit and not actually discover anything.

  Caput XIII

  A Gaggle of Suspects

  ‘It was Hendig,’ Hermitage said.

  ‘It was the abbess,’ Cwen said.

  ‘Definitely the moot,’ Wat said.

  Back in their room at the tavern, as late afternoon wandered nonchalantly into evening, the investigative triumvirate shared their findings. Cwen sat on one end of the rough cot and Wat was on the other. Hermitage was pacing up and down, which always helped his thoughts.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Hermitage looking at them. He’d hoped they’d be overjoyed with his discovery of the killer, not have found their own.

  ‘Hendig discovered the body, so he says. He also says he doesn’t know what Gilder’s last message was, but that could be a lie as well.’

  ‘But he was paid for work by Gilder?’ Cwen pointed out. ‘Who’d want to kill the person who pays them?’

  ‘I can think of several,’ said Wat, dryly.

  ‘He did say he hated the things he was told to do,’ said Hermitage, ‘and he’s friends with Balor. He’ll continue to work and be paid, and might even be promoted. Balor is bound to give his friend some position of importance.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Cwen. ‘He didn’t seem to know Hendig was helping Gilder at all. And he wasn’t happy about it.’

  ‘I’m sure they could sort that out.’

  ‘Even when Balor finds out that his friend killed his father - even if he was a hated father? It’s a bit of a drastic step I’d have thought, almost knocking someone’s head off on the expectation that their son will give you a job.’

  Hermitage stopped for thought. It did seem a bit extreme when it was put like that.

  ‘But the abbess?’ Hermitage asked, shocked that a woman of holy orders could even be considered. ‘She leads a religious community for goodness sake. I met Father Cuthbert and he is the most charming and good natured individual. I couldn’t for a moment imagine him doing anything like this.’

  ‘Ha,’ Cwen exclaimed, ‘then all the charm and good nature for the two of them has ended up with him. She turned out repulsive and evil-minded.’

  ‘Cwen, really,’ Hermitage complained.

  ‘You want to spend some more time with her,’ Cwen suggested. ‘Her performance at the moot hall was positively restrained. Her and a woman called Hild, who just sat there scowling at the daylight, I wouldn’t put it past the two of them to take someone’s head off just by looking at it.’

  Hermitage recalled his discussion with Cuthbert. ‘But did they have the motive and the opportunity?’

  ‘The what?’ Cwen and Wat asked simultaneously.

  Hermitage smiled at his new concept. ‘I picked it up from Father Cuthbert. For someone to be a killer they have to have the motive and the opportunity.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Of course. You can’t kill someone unless you have the chance to do so, and you wouldn’t do it unless you had reason.’

  ‘Or you were mad,’ said Wat.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ said Hermitage, admitting that was another possibility. ‘But Hendig had both. He wanted rid of Gilder so he could stop doing the horrible jobs, and then work for Balor. And he wa
s the last person to see the victim on his own. Still alive.’ Hermitage folded his arms in satisfaction at his reasoning.

  ‘It’s not much of a motive,’ said Cwen, dismissively. ‘My nuns have got a much better one. Money. Gilder was expected to fund the new nunnery but he wouldn't come up with the money, despite the abbess nagging. And believe me, she could nag the head off a horse. Plus she’s got a temper on her that could blunt a sword and she could have been the last to see Gilder alive.’

  ‘How?’ Hermitage asked, upset that his details of Hendig’s movements weren’t good enough. ‘We saw Mildburgh arrive at the gate at the same time as us.’

  ‘Says she was at Wenlock,’ Cwen mumbled, disappointed that this detail had been brought up. ‘But that could be a lie. She could have been anywhere for all we know. And she was always pestering him over the nunnery. She could have gone there on the Tuesday to have another go. Gilder says no and she lets loose.’ Cwen held her arms out, demonstrating that the murder was solved.

  ‘Not much to go on,’ said Wat. ‘Could have gone there and might have killed him. No proof at all.’

  Cwen looked sulky, but seemed to accept it didn’t sound like a very strong argument.

  ‘I prefer Hermitage’s Hendig-did-it.’

  Hermitage nodded in acknowledgement.

  ‘Except he didn’t. It was the moot.’

  ‘And how do you know it was the moot?’ Cwen asked, folding her arms and turning to face mister know-it-all.

  ‘Because for motive they’ve got buckets of it.’

  At least he was using Hermitage’s argument.

  ‘And it’s money,’ Wat added, with a nod to Cwen. ‘Gilder was a pain in their collective backsides and had been for years, it seems.’

  ‘So why kill him now?’ Hermitage asked.

  ‘Your opportunity thing, probably.’

  Hermitage smiled and gave a half nod to Cwen to show that he had been right all along. Even if he he’d got the wrong killer.

  ‘I don’t say they did it themselves,’ Wat explained, ‘all too old and decrepit to manage that. I suspect they found someone to do it for them. They seemed very concerned that we might discover it was someone embarrassing.’