The Chapel of Bones: (Knights Templar 18) (50 page)

‘So that night we all went to the Close and hung around until the end of Matins. That place where the chapel is now, that was where Lecchelade’s house stood, and we knew we had to jump on him before he could go inside. It was William’s idea, I think, to get the rumour to the Chaunter that there was going to be an attack, but that the Bishop had set up his own men to catch us in the act. It worked like a dream,
too. The Chaunter couldn’t tell what sort of counter-attack was being planned, because he was in the Cathedral running the service. All he knew was that Matthew, his darling boy, had said that all was under control. Matthew was so well-trusted by the Chaunter that his word wouldn’t be doubted. And William told us not to kill him, so most of us guessed he was in on it.

‘Stephen was with us, of course. From the first moment, he was in ahead of me. I think he had some other reason to hate the Chaunter, but I don’t know why. Anyway, just before we could attack, a novice called Vincent ran up and tried to warn the Chaunter. The fool nearly messed the whole thing up. Luckily, Nicholas didn’t realise. He had heard there might be an attack, and when Vincent rushed at him in the dark, Nick pulled out his dagger and saw him off.’

Wymond heard the words like a blow to his heart. Joel’s matter-of-fact tone only added to the insult, to his sense of loss. He felt his son’s hand on his shoulder, and forced himself to be calm. He wouldn’t break down in front of an accessory to his brother’s murder.

Joel continued, ‘After that, we all piled in. Thomas slashed at Nicholas and did that damage to the poor sod’s face, while the rest of us set to at the Chaunter and his gang. Someone knocked Matthew down – I think that was William – and the rest of us did what we could. Only later did I see William with the Chaunter. He was holding his dagger in the Chaunter’s breast and twisting the blade.
He
was the murderer of Walter – I swear it.’

‘What do you gain from telling us this?’ Simon asked.

‘Revenge! Afterwards I saw that there was some mileage to be gained from the fact that the Southern Gate was left wide open all night. When the King arrived, I decided I’d mention
this, because the old King was quite generous. I told my
friend
William, but before I could speak to the King, I learned that William had already told him. Edward rewarded him with money and a place in the royal household.

‘I was furious. I’d told William before, see – so that he wouldn’t get angry with me. Even then he was a ruthless shite, and I didn’t want him sticking a knife in my back for some supposed insult in later years. As it was, I wanted to get him instead. He stole my idea and my savings, and took my reward, the thieving git!’

‘And that was that,’ Baldwin commented.

‘There’s nothing more to tell,’ Joel said. He looked tired now, as though he had worked hard at his tale. ‘I wanted you to know the truth so that no lies could confuse the issue later.’

‘Why did you choose to tell us?’

‘Because I want William to pay for what he did. Look – I’ve had a good life. If I’d gone to the King’s service instead of him, I’d not have met my Maud and might well be dead in a Scottish ditch somewhere by now. No, I reckon I’ve done better here than I would have, taking on the life of a warrior. But that doesn’t mean that I’d happily see him rewarded for his murder. I saw him kill the Chaunter – it’s wrong that he should live out his days with a King’s corrody after that.’

Baldwin nodded, but in truth he was not very interested. His wound was giving him pain again, and the convoluted motivations of this man were of little import to him. He would prefer to return to his room and rest as the physician had suggested.

It was Simon who said, ‘I don’t think the King will take kindly to hearing that the man his father rewarded so well was in fact a murderer guilty of the crime he reported. The Corrody will probably be returned.’

‘Good. I wouldn’t want to think that the man was going to survive without punishment.’

‘Do you not think others deserve some punishment?’ Vincent burst out. ‘After all, you yourself helped to get that man murdered, then sought to reward yourself as you could, reporting about the gate being left open, all for your own advantage and the devil take the others!’

‘Be quiet, Vince. I didn’t tell you to stay here, and I won’t have you speaking disrespectfully in front of all these people.’

‘You are a murderer and accomplice of murderers,
Master
,’ Vincent spat. ‘I can speak to you how I wish.’

‘I’ve never committed murder,’ Joel declared stiffly.

‘You’ve plotted it, you’ve helped others kill, and you even planned to report the gate, which led to two men being wrongly hanged,’ Vincent said hotly.

‘Boy, be silent! I won’t have you talk like this.’

Simon beckoned the apprentice to him. ‘Joel, you know the man called Vincent whom Nicholas, so you say, killed? Did you never wonder that your apprentice had this fellow’s name?’ He put his arm about Vincent’s shoulder.

‘Vincent?’ Joel said dully. ‘You’re related to him?’

‘He would have been my uncle.’

‘Christ Jesus!’

‘So I think,’ Simon continued, ‘that you ought to agree that this young man’s contract is finished. Vincent here wishes to set up shop, and it would be a right neighbourly thing for a boy’s master to lend him the money to get him started – don’t you agree?’

Thomas would never forget the sight of Sara, lying there on the bench, blood all over her. The mere thought could make the hairs rise on the back of his neck. In that moment, he
thought he had lost her, and that he was the agent of a terrible fate.

Yet then he had reminded himself that the death of Saul was nothing to do with him. It was Matthew, trying to kill him, who had caused the rock to fall. Nor had Sara’s little son Elias died because of Thomas. If anything, he had saved her life.

He sobbed as he huddled over her body, listening to the soft thudding of her heart. Dear God, soon she would be dead! While the men about him were carrying Baldwin and Jeanne from the room, Edgar tottering after them, Thomas knelt there, cradling Sara’s frail body, until she gradually stirred and he felt her hand on his head.

He was convinced this was her death. She was going. He ought to demand that she confess her sins. It was his duty to a fellow Christian, and there was dispensation for a man to hear a Confession when there was no priest available. He pulled away from her, preparing himself to speak the
viaticum
, and then he saw her eyes open. There was a glazed look in them, and he burst out with more sobbing, only to hear her say, ‘What’s happened? Where am …
what is all this
!’

‘You’ve been wounded.’

‘Where?’

She sat up and he retreated, staring, still convinced that she must be about to die. The blood was so fresh.

It was only when he stumbled over the dead Treasurer’s body that he realised the truth, and even then it took his brain some while to accept the glorious fact that she was fine.

Baldwin was clearly very tired, and Simon had to help Edgar support him on the way back to the inn where the knight and his wife were staying. Simon put Baldwin into his chamber, resting
him on his bed, and then left Jeanne and Edgar seeing to his needs while he went about the city.

The murder of the saddler and the Friar was all but concluded, of course. There were only a few loose cords to collect together. And Simon had an idea of one man who could help him: Thomas, the man who had been trying to flee the place when they found him at some woman’s house. Except no one seemed to have seen Thomas since the death of Stephen. His whereabouts were a mystery.

Simon pondered that for some while as he walked along Fore Street and then up the narrower ways to the old Friary. He turned the corner at the end of the road and continued until he reached the house with an old oaken door, upon which he knocked.

It was opened by a pale, drawn-featured woman with red-gold hair. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded suspiciously.

‘I am a Bailiff; Simon Puttock is my name and I want to speak with Thomas the mason.’

‘What makes you think he is here?’

‘There’s nowhere else he could be,’ Simon said equably. ‘Will you send him out here to be viewed by all your neighbours, or shall I enter and speak with him inside?’

Ungraciously she stood aside, staring hard at him as though daring him to bring any more misfortune into her dwelling.

As he entered, Simon saw the large vertical post that supported the roof, where Thomas had been bound last time he came in.

‘Hello, Master Thomas,’ he said.

The man seated at the table grunted. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’ve heard much about the killing of the Chaunter, but there’s one thing I cannot understand: why did you choose to leave the city after his death?’ Simon asked.

‘Because I was repelled by it all. I saw what I’d done when I attacked Nicholas, and it made my stomach turn. I had become a butcher who would happily slaughter his own best friend for a little money.’

‘Money?’

‘Henry, Joel and I were promised coin for taking part. John Pycot wanted as many men as possible so that the Chaunter would have little means of escape. He paid lots of us to be there. That night I stabbed Nicholas, my oldest friend, and thought that I had killed him. Later, when I got home, I decided to leave and never return. I could only bring dishonour to my family, so I thought.’

‘And you never came back until now?’

‘Why should I? There was nothing here for me. I was an only child. My mother had died when I was a boy and thanks to the Chaunter’s murder, my father was dead, too.’

‘Dead?’

‘Oh yes. That happened not long after I left. William, the devil, stood up and told everyone about the Southern Gate being open. Soon afterwards, my father was taken out and hanged.’

‘He was the Mayor?’ Simon asked.

Thomas frowned at him. ‘Of course not! He was the porter, the man in charge of the Southern Gate. When William announced to the King that the gate was open all night, he chose to punish those who were responsible: the Mayor, because he represented the city itself, and my father, because he had left the gates open.’

‘
Why
did he do that?’ Simon asked quietly.

Thomas looked confused. He stared at the table-top, shaking his head slowly. ‘I don’t know. I think he must have guessed that I had a part in the killing, because he found me
the next morning, and I suppose he opened the gate to make it look as though someone from outside the city had committed the assassination. But it didn’t work, of course. It was a mad idea. Even if it was true that he had allowed the murderers to escape, he’d then have relocked the gates, not left them open all night.’

Simon nodded thoughtfully. ‘I see. What of your companions? Were you so very friendly with men like Joel and Henry and William beforehand?’

‘William wasn’t someone I’d have kept in touch with. He was always ruthless – not a pleasant character. Henry and Joel were good fellows, though. I always enjoyed a drink or a game with them. And Nicholas, too. He was a laugh.’

Simon felt his instinct had failed him. ‘So you didn’t see much of William, then?’

‘We went about a lot together. He stayed at my home, and I stayed in his, when we were younger. It was only when we got older that I saw what he was really like, and I started to avoid him.’

‘He knew your home, then?’

Thomas looked up at him. ‘What are you driving at, Bailiff?’

Simon stood with decision. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about me.’

He bowed slightly to Sara, then turned and left. As soon as he was gone, Thomas looked despairingly at Sara.

She saw his expression and said, ‘Don’t worry, Tom. I don’t mind.’

‘It’s just going to keep reminding you, that’s all,’ he said thickly.

Sara rubbed at her eyes tiredly. ‘No, Thomas. I don’t need reminding. Saul’s always here with me.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ll go soon and leave you.’

‘You can’t stay?’

‘I won’t be arrested, the Bailiff said so after the Treasurer was buried. He reckoned that there’d been enough death resulting from the Chaunter’s murder.’

‘So you could stay if you wanted?’

‘I can’t. I’m a reminder to you of your loss.’

‘All I know is, I’m happy while you’re here.’

He was staring at her, dumbfounded, when there was another knock at the door. Thomas rolled his eyes. ‘What now, Bailiff?’

Jen poked her head around the door. ‘So you
are
here, then. I just wondered. Suppose you haven’t got any more of that wine, have you? No? Right, well, never mind. Well done, Sara. I said you ought to snare him. You look after her, fellow. She needs understanding, that woman does. You be careful with her, all right?’

She withdrew her head and Sara and Thomas exchanged a baffled look. Gradually she began to smile, her lips twitching. ‘You realise that means everyone around here will know you’re here?’

‘I am sorry. It will give you a reputation.’

She nodded, her smile gone. ‘I would not have my husband’s memory besmirched by gossip over my behaviour.’

‘I … it would be impertinent to ask,’ he stammered. ‘But I think …’