The Paths of the Air by Alys Clare Page B

Hawkenlye, Josse related to his companion everything that Canon Mark had told and shown him.
    â€˜You agree that this dead Hospitaller was murdered?’ Gervase asked curtly.
    â€˜Aye,’ Josse said. There was no other explanation for Brother Jeremiah’s staved-in skull.
    â€˜And you do not think Canon Mark is inventing this tale in order to cover up his own negligence in allowing a fire to start in his guest wing?’
    â€˜No,’ Josse said firmly. ‘I cannot vouch for Canon Mark’s honesty, having only just met him, although I must say that I gained the impression of a conscientious man who insists on things being done according to his own careful rules. If he says he always makes sure no fires are left smouldering at the end of the day, then I believe him. Also’ – and this, he thought, was what clinched it – ‘how else did Brother Jeremiah get those fatal wounds to his head unless by another’s hand? He cannot possibly have fallen, for he was found in his bed.’
    â€˜We only have Canon Mark’s word for that.’
    Josse’s irritation spilled over. ‘Well, go back and ask the others! I did not think to do it, Gervase, but Canon Mark didn’t fight that fire all by himself and I’m sure his companions will vouch for the truth of what he told me.’
    Gervase grinned. ‘Sorry, Josse. Yes, you’re right; I’m just thinking around the problem.’ His expression becoming rueful, he added gloomily, ‘As if one violent murder wasn’t enough, now it seems we have another.’
    Gervase and Josse had decided to speak to the surviving Hospitallers in the hope that they might have seen or heard something suspicious before the fire broke out. It seemed quite possible for, as Josse pointed out, the murderer must have hoped that his fire would kill all three of them – it was only thanks to the quick-thinking and courageous Canon Mark and his fire drill that two had been saved – and therefore there was a good chance that the killer had not bothered too much about keeping out of sight.
    On reaching the Abbey in the early afternoon, Josse had asked Sister Ursel to send word to the Abbess that they were back and then they had gone straight to the infirmary, where Sister Euphemia had put the Hospitallers on adjacent cots in the curtained recess at the far end of the long ward. The patches of cloth had been sponged off their flesh and now both appeared to be naked, covered as far as the waist with clean white sheets. Their burns were red and shiny.
    â€˜This man –’ Sister Euphemia indicated the monk on the left, who Josse identified as Brother Otto – ‘is the more badly wounded and he breathes only with great difficulty. His burns are extensive and he would now be in agony were he conscious. I thank the merciful God for Sabin de Gifford’s skill.’
    â€˜Amen,’ Josse muttered. Gervase, he noticed, gave a faint smile at this praise of his wife.
    â€˜The other one –’ the infirmarer turned to look at Thibault of Margat – ‘suffered less damage and I guess this is because he was pulled out first. His burns are not so deep, and although he has been coughing and wheezing, his condition is not as severe as his companion’s.’
    â€˜How soon before he is able to talk?’ Gervase asked.
    â€˜He is very sick. Although I said his condition is less severe, that is relative, for he too will be in a great deal of pain when he recovers consciousness and I shall do my best to keep him asleep for as long as I think fit.’
    â€˜Sister, the monk who died did not perish in the fire,’ Gervase said in an urgent whisper. ‘He was murdered, and I must set about trying to find the man who killed him. These two lucky survivors –’ he must have noticed her instinctive protest, for he held up his hand to silence her – ‘yes, I know full well they will suffer