thought, Brother, but let’s look at motives.’
Athelstan spread his hands. ‘There are as many motives as there are people in the Tower, Sir John. Was Sir Fulke greedy? Was the chaplain angry at being called a thief? Did Colebrooke want Sir Ralph’s post? Did Philippa and her lover see Sir Ralph as an obstacle to their marriage or to Mistress Philippa’s inheritance?’
‘Which brings us,’ Cranston concluded, ‘to the two hospitallers. Now we know they are not telling the truth. Somehow or other that piece of parchment and the seed cake lie at the very heart of the murder and they must know something about both. Sir Ralph’s death note bore the impression of a three-masted ship, the type often used in the Middle Sea, whilst the seed cake is the mark of the Assassins. Ergo, Sir Ralph’s death must be linked to some mystery in his past, something connected with his days as a warrior in Outremer.’
Athelstan put his blackjack down on the table. He opened and shut his mouth.
‘What’s the matter, friar?’
‘There’s only one conclusion we can reach, Master Coroner – Sir Ralph might not be the first person to die in the Tower before Yuletide comes.’
CHAPTER 5
They stayed in the tavern a little longer. Athelstan expected Cranston to mount his horse and ride back to Cheapside but the coroner shook his head.
‘I want to go back to your damned graveyard,’ he snorted. ‘You need a keen brain to plumb the mysteries there.’
‘But Lady Maude will be waiting.’
‘Let her!’
‘Sir John, tell me, is there anything wrong?’
Cranston scowled and looked away.
‘Is it Matthew?’ Athelstan asked gently. ‘Is it the anniversary of his death?’
Cranston stood up and linked his arm through Athelstan’s as they went out to stand at the door whilst the ostler saddled their horses. ‘Tell me. Brother, when you ran away from your order as a novice and took your younger brother to the wars in France, were you happy?’
Athelstan felt his own heart lurch. ‘Of course.’ He smiled thinly. ‘I was young then. The blood boiled in my veins for some great adventure.’
‘And when you found your brother dead, cold as ice in that battlefield, and trailed back to England to confess your deeds to your parents, what then?’
Athelstan looked across the darkening yard. ‘In the gospels, Sir John, Christ says that at the end of the world the very heavens will rock and the planets fall to earth in a fiery blaze.’ Athelstan closed his eyes. He sensed Francis’s ghost very close to him now. ‘When I found my brother dead,’ he continued, ‘my heaven fell to earth.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose it was the end of my world.’
‘And what did you think of life then?’
Athelstan rubbed his mouth with his thumb and gazed directly at Cranston’s sorrowful face. ‘I felt betrayed by it,’ he whispered.
Cranston tapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘Aye, Brother, always remember the carmined kiss of the traitor is ever the sweetest. You remember that, as I shall.’
Athelstan gazed speechlessly back. He had never seen Cranston like this before. By now the coroner should have been singing some lewd song at the top of his voice, bellowing abuse at the landlord, or urging Athelstan to come back to his house in Cheapside.
They mounted their horses and made their way quietly up snow-packed Billingsgate, turning left into the approaches to London Bridge. A large crowd milled there despite the cold wind which lashed face and hand. Under a sky shrouded by deep snow clouds, some boys threw snowballs at each other, shrieking with laughter as they hit their target. A legless beggar pulled himself along through the slush on wooden slats. A group of tattered watermen muttered abuse at the frozen river and cursed the great frost which had taken their livelihood from them. Others, hooded and cowled, pushed forward into the city or joined Athelstan and Cranston in crossing the narrow frozen bridge to Southwark.
The
Athelstan spread his hands. ‘There are as many motives as there are people in the Tower, Sir John. Was Sir Fulke greedy? Was the chaplain angry at being called a thief? Did Colebrooke want Sir Ralph’s post? Did Philippa and her lover see Sir Ralph as an obstacle to their marriage or to Mistress Philippa’s inheritance?’
‘Which brings us,’ Cranston concluded, ‘to the two hospitallers. Now we know they are not telling the truth. Somehow or other that piece of parchment and the seed cake lie at the very heart of the murder and they must know something about both. Sir Ralph’s death note bore the impression of a three-masted ship, the type often used in the Middle Sea, whilst the seed cake is the mark of the Assassins. Ergo, Sir Ralph’s death must be linked to some mystery in his past, something connected with his days as a warrior in Outremer.’
Athelstan put his blackjack down on the table. He opened and shut his mouth.
‘What’s the matter, friar?’
‘There’s only one conclusion we can reach, Master Coroner – Sir Ralph might not be the first person to die in the Tower before Yuletide comes.’
CHAPTER 5
They stayed in the tavern a little longer. Athelstan expected Cranston to mount his horse and ride back to Cheapside but the coroner shook his head.
‘I want to go back to your damned graveyard,’ he snorted. ‘You need a keen brain to plumb the mysteries there.’
‘But Lady Maude will be waiting.’
‘Let her!’
‘Sir John, tell me, is there anything wrong?’
Cranston scowled and looked away.
‘Is it Matthew?’ Athelstan asked gently. ‘Is it the anniversary of his death?’
Cranston stood up and linked his arm through Athelstan’s as they went out to stand at the door whilst the ostler saddled their horses. ‘Tell me. Brother, when you ran away from your order as a novice and took your younger brother to the wars in France, were you happy?’
Athelstan felt his own heart lurch. ‘Of course.’ He smiled thinly. ‘I was young then. The blood boiled in my veins for some great adventure.’
‘And when you found your brother dead, cold as ice in that battlefield, and trailed back to England to confess your deeds to your parents, what then?’
Athelstan looked across the darkening yard. ‘In the gospels, Sir John, Christ says that at the end of the world the very heavens will rock and the planets fall to earth in a fiery blaze.’ Athelstan closed his eyes. He sensed Francis’s ghost very close to him now. ‘When I found my brother dead,’ he continued, ‘my heaven fell to earth.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose it was the end of my world.’
‘And what did you think of life then?’
Athelstan rubbed his mouth with his thumb and gazed directly at Cranston’s sorrowful face. ‘I felt betrayed by it,’ he whispered.
Cranston tapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘Aye, Brother, always remember the carmined kiss of the traitor is ever the sweetest. You remember that, as I shall.’
Athelstan gazed speechlessly back. He had never seen Cranston like this before. By now the coroner should have been singing some lewd song at the top of his voice, bellowing abuse at the landlord, or urging Athelstan to come back to his house in Cheapside.
They mounted their horses and made their way quietly up snow-packed Billingsgate, turning left into the approaches to London Bridge. A large crowd milled there despite the cold wind which lashed face and hand. Under a sky shrouded by deep snow clouds, some boys threw snowballs at each other, shrieking with laughter as they hit their target. A legless beggar pulled himself along through the slush on wooden slats. A group of tattered watermen muttered abuse at the frozen river and cursed the great frost which had taken their livelihood from them. Others, hooded and cowled, pushed forward into the city or joined Athelstan and Cranston in crossing the narrow frozen bridge to Southwark.
The
Similar Books
