Ralph tapped his own sword and dagger. ‘We’ll be safe enough. But don’t tell anyone where we are going.’
A short while later they crossed the heathland, Ralph striding ahead, Adam and Marisa following behind. They had fallen silent as if they couldn’t believe what Ralph had told them. They entered the spinney. Ralph paused and crouched near a corpse left lying in the gorse and brambles. The man was dressed in a brown leather jerkin, patched leggings. His boots and belt had been removed. A terrible gash to the side of his head had drenched his cold face in blood.
‘One of the attackers from last night,’ Ralph commented, getting to his feet. ‘Dead and gone, there’s little we can do for him. We’ll tell Sir John and his corpse can be buried with the rest in the common grave.’
He entered the trees, pushing through the gorse, startling the birds which rose in flurries and cries of annoyance at this early-morning intrusion. The sun had risen but it was weak and watery, hidden by the mist hanging like a ghostly curtain over the flat Essex countryside. Ralph paused in the small clearing.
‘Stay here,’ he told Adam and Marisa.
He strode to the oak trees and stopped before the fifth in line
from his left. He walked round its huge trunk, staring carefully up, but could see no crack, crevice or hollow. The hard bark was unbroken and even. If it wasn’t this one, thought Ralph, it must be the fifth from his right.
‘Adam! Marisa!’ he called. ‘Come over here!’
The two walked across.
‘I believe Cerdic hid Brythnoth’s cross in one of these oak trees. Remember the riddle he told the Danes? That he had hidden it in an altar sacred to his god and theirs?’
‘The oak tree!’ exclaimed Adam. ‘Sacred to the ancient priests, while Christ died on the wood of the cross.’
Ralph clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Exactly. We must search the trunk of each of these oaks very carefully.’
‘Is this possible?’ queried Marisa.
‘Oak trees grow for centuries.’ Ralph replied. ‘These were probably here before Rome’s legions left.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the only answer to the riddle I can come up with. If you think I’m a madcap or wish to return to Ravenscroft …’ He looked hard at Adam.
‘No, no.’ Adam smiled. ‘Let’s begin the search.’
Ralph waited until they were busy then walked across the clearing, straight to the fifth oak tree from his right. He stared up. On the side facing the glade there was nothing but on the other, just before the trunk branched out, he glimpsed a moss-covered hollow. He glanced over his shoulder. Adam and Marisa were busy searching. Ralph paused, whispered a short prayer then, using the knots and gnarls on the trunk, began to climb. After a while he managed to swing himself up above the hollow, ignoring the pain from the cut on his hand.
‘Have you found anything?’ Adam shouted.
‘No,’ Ralph lied. ‘I thought there was a hollow but it’s where a branch has been sawn off.’
He waited until his companions’ attention was once more on their search, then drew the dagger from his belt – he had left his sword on the ground. He scraped away the moss and found quite a large hollow. It was full of fungi. He cleared this
away too and put his hand in. Twigs, crumbling remains of acorn, the remnants of a bird’s nest pricked his fingers and the hard wood scored his wrist. He leaned to his left, tightened his grip on the branch and dug his hand deeper. His fingers touched something cold and hard and what seemed to be bits of parchment or leather. He stretched in. The wood scraped his wrist, his fingers were bruised but at last he gripped then pulled the object up.
The cross had been wrapped in a leather sack which had rotted, and its silver chain was broken and tarnished, but the cross itself winked and gleamed in the early morning light as if it had been placed there the previous day. It was pure gold, six inches across, nine inches long, marked and scraped, but still a gorgeously rich ornament. Ralph stared at the glowing jewel in the centre where the crosspieces met and marvelled at the strange symbols cut into the gold by some long dead craftsman.
‘Brythnoth’s cross!’ Ralph whispered.
It weighed heavy in his hands, pure gold at least one inch thick. Bits of the leather sack still clung to the cross. Ralph closed his eyes, unaware of Adam’s and Marisa’s chatter, the sounds of the spinney. He felt as if he was stretching across the centuries, meeting Cerdic the squire who had hidden it here so many years ago. Ralph could imagine the young man hastening from the battlefield, desperate to return, wondering where to hide the cross. Perhaps he had played here as a boy and knew about this hollow … ?
‘Ralph! Ralph! What have you there?’
Adam and Marisa were beneath the oak tree staring up at him. Marisa had picked up his sword and tossed it away. Adam’s hand stretched up.
‘You’ve found the cross, haven’t you? You’ve found it! You knew where it was all the time. Pass it down!’ The greed flared in Adam’s eyes, his lips parted.
Ralph let the cross drop. Adam caught it and he and Marisa moved away. Ralph climbed down the tree and jumped to the
ground. He picked up his sword then sat with his back to the tree.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said.
Adam and Marisa came and knelt before him. Ralph noticed how Marisa rested the arbalest against her knee.
‘It’s magnificent.’ Adam cradled it as if it was a child.
Ralph stretched out his hand. ‘Let me have another look, Adam.’
Adam passed it over. Ralph held up the cross up and both the gold and the jewel caught the light, shimmering and glittering as he turned and twisted it.
‘What will you do with it?’ Marisa asked.
‘I will look at it.’ Ralph smiled. ‘Then I shall travel to Canterbury. This belongs to the Church, it’s a sacred relic. I am sure my Lord Archbishop will reward me well.’
‘To Canterbury?’ Adam was incredulous, eyes wide, face pale. ‘You’ll give this over to mumbling priests?’ He leaned closer. ‘It’s treasure, Ralph. Take your dagger, gouge out the jewel, pay a forge to smelt the gold down.’
‘Cerdic hid it here,’ Ralph said as if he hadn’t heard, ‘because it is sacred. It was owned by a brave hero who was determined that it wouldn’t fall into the hands of a pagan invader.’ He put the cross on the grass beside him. ‘We’ve been given this cross in trust, Adam. It’s not for me, or you.’
Adam narrowed his eyes. ‘You knew where it was all of the time. Why did you bring us here?’
‘Why, Adam, if I had left by myself you would have only followed. Better to have you sitting before me than an arrow in my back!’
‘What do you mean?’ Marisa snapped but her eyes shifted to the golden cross.
‘Just look at you,’ Ralph replied. ‘Killers and thieves both, aren’t you?’ His hand fell to his dagger. ‘You show no remorse, no sorrow. Your souls must be as dark as midnight, and to think both of you claim to be my friends!’ He shook his head. ‘You’re nothing but assassins. You knew I was searching for
the cross: it can’t be mere legend if Ralph is pursuing it with such zeal, eh? And I was so trusting.’ He balanced the cross in his hands. ‘I wrote down my findings and I’d leave my manuscript on my table and my door unlocked. Who would care if Adam and Marisa, Ralph’s bosom friends, were found in his chamber? I wonder how many times you visited. You must have read every word I wrote. And then that banquet, on May Day, when we all sat out on the green laughing and joking.’ Ralph blinked back the tears and struggled to keep his voice calm.
Both Adam and Marisa were looking at him though even now they seemed more intent on the cross than anything else.
‘I was truly stupid,’ Ralph continued. ‘I let slip that I’d find the cross sooner than later. You decided that I’d led you long enough. You could do without Ralph.’ He picked up the cross and thrust it under Adam’s face. ‘That’s when the darkness in you rose. A hurried discussion, was it? Old Ralph going up on the parapet walk but it wasn’t me, was it? Poor Beatrice! She went there and one or both of you brutally killed her. Adam and Marisa, the loving couple, who’d always be able to guarantee they knew where the other was when something terrible happened.’
‘Ralph.’ Adam shook his head but his hand had moved to the hilt of his dagger. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. You are overcome with grief.’
‘What are you waiting for, Adam?’ Ralph smiled back. ‘Are you going to reassure me? Wait until I get up and turn my back on you? No, I’ll stay here until my story’s done!’
‘Not so long ago …’ Ralph stared beyond these killers and was comforted to see some movement in the trees. He only hoped Sir John would follow his instructions and advice. So far, this precious pair had confessed to nothing.
‘Not so long ago,’ he repeated, ‘we were just two clerks. Adam, you had Marisa, I had Beatrice. I mentioned Brythnoth’s cross and what became an interest to you turned into obsession. You realised I was very close to discovering it. Why should I have the glory, not to mention the wealth? You or Marisa visited my chamber. Do you know, even before Beatrice died, I used to smell the perfume in my chamber but I thought it was a comforting trace of her presence. After you had killed her, I still caught the fragrance in my chamber, and also in the Salt Tower. At the time it reassured me. I believed Beatrice was beside me. Now I realise, you used to go to my room, both before and after her death, to study my papers, to see what progress I was making.’ He glanced at Marisa. She was very composed, head down, eyes watching from underneath her brows, a smile on her lips as if relishing her own cunning.
‘I was stupid. I really trusted you. Little Phoebe, she was different, wasn’t she? Did she see you in my chamber? Did she overhear some conversation?’
‘She was a meddling brat!’ Marisa broke in. ‘Ever at keyholes, or her ear pressed against the door!’ She shook away Adam’s warning hand. ‘I couldn’t abide her! Those clever eyes, that smirk, whatever she knew she’d trade for!’
‘And you invited her to the Salt Tower to discuss matters, didn’t you?’ said Ralph. ‘Then you killed her. She struggled. You beat Phoebe then you cut her throat. You wrapped her corpse in a canvas sheet and, under the cover of darkness, Adam lowered her body out of the window door and brought it here to Devil’s Spinney. To all intents and purposes she had been attacked by some travelling chapman or tinker. You made one mistake: Fulk and Eleanora were hiding in the spinney. Fulk saw what you hid and followed you out. Perhaps he recognised you, your height, your build, your gait.’
‘Oh, we glimpsed him.’ Marisa pulled the hair away from her face. ‘I was waiting for Adam in the Salt Tower by the window door. I saw the yokel trailing behind, pretending to be ever so clever. It was only a matter of time before he came back to bargain like the peasant he was!’
‘And you’d be waiting for him, wouldn’t you, Marisa? Just a few words. A pleasant smile, an invitation to the Salt Tower. Once he was there he was dead. Again, a blow to the head and his body is dumped in the moat. It might be discovered but his death would not be laid at your door. And Beatrice. One or both of you waited in the tower, watching that dark shape come along the parapet walk. Did you distract her? One blow to the head and that was enough; you made a dreadful mistake but you didn’t really care.’ Ralph fought hard to control his anger and grief. ‘We all thought there was one assassin when there were two. Adam and Marisa ever ready to explain where the other was when these attacks took place. One of you was always seen or heard. Even the Constable was prepared to swear that he heard you checking the stores the afternoon Phoebe was killed but was it at the time of the attack? We don’t know when exactly she died.’
Adam pulled a face and shook his head. ‘I’m truly sorry—’
‘Oh, spare me!’ Ralph snarled. ‘You’re not sorry. You’ve lost your soul. All you can think of is gold and a life of plenty. You attacked me in the spinney, didn’t you? Tried to make it look as if I had wandered into some mire. You are demons, both of you. You moved in and out of Ravesncroft with ease. Marisa would guard the window door in the Salt Tower while
you, Adam, strong and able, ran across the heath. Once you were back in Ravenscroft you and your fellow devil could spin whatever lies you wanted.’
‘We should kill him!’ Marisa stared into the trees. ‘Adam, we should finish it now!’
‘Did Beardsmore suspect?’ Ralph spoke in a rush. ‘It was his death that made me begin to suspect there were two, not one murderer. I checked the castle armoury. No one had withdrawn arbalests. In truth you had two: while Adam loosed one, sweet Marisa would be loading the other.’ He shook his fist. ‘That day you nearly accounted for both of us.’ Ralph gripped the cross as if it was a sword. ‘And then we come to Eleanora, sly-eyed, quick-witted, Fulk’s sweetheart. God only knows what she might tell Sir John and so she, too, had to be silenced. Now Eleanora was sharp-witted but when another woman came up to the small barred window of her cell and whispered encouragement, said she would do something to help and offered comfort, she believed her. That was you, wasn’t it, Marisa? A piece of marchpane coated with poison for rats and Eleanora was no more.’
‘Very sharp,’ said Adam. He was slipping a bolt into the groove on the arbalest. ‘I told Marisa, Ralph is keener-witted than you think. Likes to reflect, does old Ralph, tenacious as a fox terrier.’
‘And you made mistakes,’ Ralph taunted. He emphasised the points on his fingers. ‘I gave Marisa Beatrice’s perfume. I smelt that fragrance in my own chamber and in the Salt Tower. It would take two people for the assassin to be able to loose so many crossbow bolts at me and Beardsmore. You are a clerk, Adam, you would understand my cipher and writing. I was truly puzzled when I found that trap to break my neck in the Salt Tower. You, Adam, were talking to Sir John, but that left you free, Marisa, to go where you wanted. Somehow or other Adam quickly told you where I had gone. A marvellous opportunity! You could slip through the orchard, across that overgrown garden. You’d probably planned it beforehand, even left the twine from when you murdered Phoebe and Fulk, a warning signal should anyone come up to disturb you.
You slipped in, re-tied the pieces of twine and were gone. If I’d discovered you, it would have been easy to drop the twine and act the concerned friend.’ Ralph sighed. ‘I was saved by sheer chance. I dropped my dagger and found the twine.’ He paused, wondering if Sir John was aware of what was happening. Adam had yet to pull back the cord of the arbalest. Ralph held up the cross. ‘All for this!’
‘What are you going to do?’ Adam asked softly. Both he and Marisa got to their feet.
‘Before I left the castle, I left a message for Sir John to follow me.’
‘He’s lying!’ Marisa spat out, only to whirl round at the crackling in the undergrowth on the far side of the grove.
Ralph lunged at Adam and sent him staggering back but he still grasped the arbalest. Sir John appeared from the trees, sword drawn, behind him the captain of the guard and a score of archers from the castle garrison. Adam’s face broke into a snarl. He brought himself up on one knee and was trying to winch back the crossbow when an arrow took him full in the throat. Coughing and spluttering, he lurched to one side. Marisa ran past the oak trees. Despite her long gown and the shoes she wore, she was moving fast. Ralph put the cross down and followed in pursuit, ignoring the warning cries of Sir John. Like a shadow Marisa sped through the sun-dappled trees. She reached what looked like a clearing and hastened on. Ralph thought of the warning shouts of Sir John.
‘Marisa, no!’
But she was already held fast in the mire. She struggled on. Ralph reached the edge and took off his war belt but Marisa had her back to him, floundering and splashing about. She was either unaware of his presence or chose to ignore it. She lunged forward as if she believed she could swim but the more she thrashed around, the deeper she sank. She turned in one desperate effort, her hand going up, but the mud was already filling her mouth. She spluttered and coughed, turned once more, and disappeared beneath the mire.
‘She is gone.’
Ralph looked round. Sir John, chest heaving, sword gripped in
his mailed fist, looked cold-eyed at the bubbles rippling the mire.
‘She’s gone. It has saved us a hanging.’
‘And Adam?’
Sir John’s fiery temper seemed to drain from him. He looked old and tired. He re-sheathed his sword and crouched down.
‘I really liked him, Ralph, him and Marisa. I could have lived to the Second Doom and never suspected them. Ah well. Adam’s gone. He was dead before he hit the ground.’
‘And the cross?’
‘My men have it.’ Sir John plucked at a trailing briar. ‘How did you know?’
‘I could say deduction and reasoning, Sir John. But I suppose it was Father Aylred really. More a matter of grace than logic. He said something evil had come to Ravenscroft, not the ghosts or phantasms of Midnight Tower, but something else. I’ll tell you later how they used that damnable door in the Salt Tower and covered for each other.’ He smiled. ‘In a sense, Beatrice helped. Marisa was so vain; she had to wear Beatrice’s fragrance and I smelt it in places I shouldn’t have. They are responsible for all the deaths. Only the good Lord knows how they will answer for their crimes to Him but answer they will.’ He gestured at the marsh. ‘Will you leave her corpse there?’
‘I have no choice. The mire is as deep as Hell.’ Sir John straightened and helped Ralph up. ‘The royal commissioners arrived just as I left. I told them to wait. They look good men – a lawyer from the Inns of Court and a sharp-eyed knight, Sir Godfrey Evesden. Come on, lad.’ Sir John clapped him on the shoulder. ‘What you did was rather stupid, you know. Those two would have killed you without a second thought.’
Ralph shrugged. ‘It was the only way, Sir John.’
They walked back towards the glade.
‘Adam and Marisa would never have confessed or betrayed their greed until they had their hands on Brythnoth’s cross. I discovered where it was, the rest I left in the hands of God. If I hadn’t found it,’ he spread his hands, ‘who knows what would have happened.’
‘The good Lord must have protected you.’
‘Yes, and Beatrice. That cross, Sir John, was worn by a man who stood on the beaches of Essex and defended this shire against invaders. I do not think the angels of Heaven would have allowed two greedy malefactors to seize it so easily.’
They reached the glade. Adam’s body had already been sheeted up. The soldiers were clustered round the captain of the guard, admiring the cross.
‘And so what now, Ralph? Where will you go? What will you do?’
‘It’s almost the beginning of July. By the feast of St Mary Magdalene I will have left Ravenscroft.’
‘And the cross?’
‘On your goodness, Sir John, I would like an escort to Canterbury. I will hand it over to the Archbishop and pray in thanksgiving at the shrine of St Thomas à Becket.’
Sir John took the cross and ordered the archers to carry Adam’s corpse and that of the dead peasant back to Ravenscroft. They stood and watched the soldiers leave. Ralph was aware of Devil’s Spinney coming to life again. Only a pool of blood on the grass showed what had happened here. He stared across at the spot where he and Beatrice used to sit and felt a deep sadness. In his heart he knew a door had been bolted, locked and barred. Beatrice was gone. He would never come here again. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer that Cerdic the squire would understand what he had done.
‘I’ll miss you, Ralph.’ Sir John put the cross gently into his hands. ‘It’s true what the Scripture says: “The love of gold is the root of all evil”.’ He tapped the back of Ralph’s hand. ‘I can see this place has memories. I’ll wait for you on the heathland.’
Ralph watched the old Constable go. He would miss Sir John, Father Aylred and Theobald Vavasour. He vowed that he would spend the silver he had collected for his wedding day to feast them all before he left. He listened to a thrush singing its little heart out on the branches above him. He closed his eyes.
‘Beatrice!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I loved you then, I love you now. I will love you always!’
The clerk picked up a jug and refilled his tankard. He hadn’t drunk much; now his throat was dry and he wanted to hide the tears stinging his eyes. The prioress was staring across at the man of law whom she had known in a previous life. He just sat rocking slightly backwards and forwards. Sir Godfrey Evesden also chose to hide his expression behind a wine cup though, as he lowered it, they could see his glint of amusement.
‘Isn’t it strange?’ Mine Host declared, nudging the customs officer, Geoffrey Chaucer, sitting beside him.
‘What’s strange?’ Chaucer queried.
‘How the pilgrims know each other.’
‘Were you at Ravenscroft?’ the summoner asked Sir Godfrey.
‘Why, yes, sir, I was,’ the Knight replied. ‘Both myself and the man of law, we were commissioned by his Grace the Regent.’ He smiled across at the clerk. ‘I only caught a fleeting glance of you. By the time we had set up our investigation and caught those responsible for the murder of Goodman Winthrop, you were long gone.’
‘So this is true?’ the wife of Bath squeaked, her cheeks bright with excitement. ‘Oh, sir, tell us it’s true!’
‘But how can it be?’ the pardoner asked. ‘We tell tales from the point of view of the living. Surely this is just a fiction, a fable to keep us worried and anxious at the dead of night with the mists swirling about and the forest creatures crying.’
‘What do you think, Sir Godfrey?’ the monk lisped. ‘I mean, sir, you did go to Ravenscroft.’
The knight gave him a cold-eyed stare.
‘I was there too,’ the man of law intervened, anxious to prevent a clash between these two old protagonists. ‘I’ve spoken to Father Aylred and Theobald Vavasour the physician.’
‘Sir.’ The poor priest edged forward, his hands out. ‘Why
not say yea or nay to whether this is fable or not? Please!’ His soft eyes pleaded with the clerk, who flushed slightly at the summoner sniggering behind his hand.
‘I shall tell you,’ he replied softly. ‘But it is up to you whether you believe me or not.’