House of Shadows by The Medieval Murderers

absolutely nothing about who killed her.’
    An hour later the tirewomen, together with two laundresses, the only other females allowed in the priory precincts, had completed their dressing of Christina’s body. The coffin lid was nailed down permanently before being taken into the church, where the funeral service was held at what John suspected was a much faster pace than usual. The prior had banned Brother Ignatius from attending, and Thomas wondered what massive penance he would be given for his unseemly behaviour.
    When the prayers and chanting were completed in the church, the congregation, swollen now by the ladies and their maids, together with the lay brothers and monks of Bermondsey, followed the coffin out of the west door of St Saviour’s. Pacing across the outer courtyard, to the accompaniment of more doleful chanting,they turned right into the lay cemetery, the monks having their own burial ground south of the church. Carried by Roger Beaumont, Jordan de Neville and two monks, the coffin was laid in a pit dug the previous day and the final prayers were spoken over it by the prior.
    Given the age of the young victim, it was a moving ceremony and even the hard-bitten coroner, so used to sudden and violent death, felt touched. He was standing next to Margaret Courtenay as they all gathered closely around the grave to watch the earth being shovelled in by the sexton and his labourer.
    â€˜What a waste of a young life!’ John murmured to Christina’s friend. ‘Done to death, a virgin not yet sixteen years of age!’
    Margaret looked up at him, tears in her eyes. ‘It is so very sad, Sir John. Though perhaps not a virgin: there was a handsome squire at Wirksworth who at least spared her that.’
    The young woman said this with such affection that John smiled at her, not offended by her indiscretion, but there was a sudden howl from behind him. Turning, he found Brother Ferdinand close by, obviously eavesdropping. Before John could protest, the monk spoke, hissing almost like a snake.
    â€˜Not a virgin? No, it cannot be! Tell me it is false, woman!’ He made to grab at Margaret, but John smacked his hands away. By now the others close by were staring at yet another confrontation with a crazed Cluniac.
    â€˜What’s it to you, brother?’ demanded John, grabbing Ferdinand by the front of his habit. ‘Why should a celibate monk be concerned with such things? Are you perverted?’
    The people around the grave now began to hurry towards them, the overwrought prior in the lead, butFerdinand twisted from de Wolfe’s grasp and backed away.
    â€˜It was all for nothing! Oh God, how grievously have I sinned!’ he howled like a starving dog. Staring at John with an expression of sheer terror, he dropped his voice to whisper so softly that the coroner could only just catch the words.
    â€˜I offered up my sacrifice to you, Oh Lord! But it was all in vain, you rejected me!’
    Turning, he hauled up the skirts of his robe and ran rapidly towards the gate into the outer courtyard. Everyone watched him, bemused by the behaviour of yet another apparently demented monk. John caught Gwyn’s eye, but the big Cornishman shrugged. ‘They’re all bloody mad in this place,’ he growled.
    As the prior was anxiously conferring with the cellarer, who was also sub-prior, Thomas sidled up to his master. ‘Crowner, I think we ought to follow him. I have a bad feeling about Brother Ferdinand.’
    John always respected his clerk’s intuition, and with a jerk of his head to Gwyn they started for the main buildings, the coroner hurrying as fast as his aching legs would allow. Thomas pattered ahead and was in time to see the fleeing monk vanish through the inner gate. As he passed through, he saw the courtyard door to the underground vault still swinging. He hastened to it but hesitated to enter the utter darkness of the stairs. Gwyn was close behind and,