‘And nothing was?’ Athelstan queried sharply. ‘Nobody touched anything?’
‘Nobody,’ Alesia agreed. ‘I was so shocked I just stood in the doorway. Master Crispin scrutinized the chancery table and asked me if the casket holding the Passio Christi was secure. I did. It was undisturbed. Sir John, you discovered where my father kept his keys?’
For a while there was silence.
‘One more thing.’ Athelstan smiled round. ‘Let’s go back to something you have mentioned. Yesterday afternoon, Tuesday the eve of St Damasus, you were visited by two monks from St Fulcher’s – Prior Alexander and Sub-Prior Richer, yes?’
‘True,’ Crispin murmured, ‘we’ve explained that.’ Crispin’s eyes were blinking so furiously Athelstan recalled Physician Theobald’s earlier question and wondered if this old secretarius had a serious ailment of the eyes.
‘Who met them?’
‘My father,’ Alesia declared. ‘Crispin, Edmond and I were also present.’
‘They brought gifts?’
‘Yes, delicious sweetmeats. They asked to see the Passio Christi.’
‘So what was the purpose of their visit?’
‘I’ve explained already,’ Crispin answered. ‘They had business in Cheapside dealing with other merchants but,’ he fingered the cap of the inkhorn strapped to his belt, ‘Sir Robert also wanted to see them.’
‘What I mean is this,’ Athelstan paused, ‘I understand the Passio Christi had to be taken to St Fulcher’s to be shown to the members of the Wyvern Company. Your father would have taken it, so why see the monks yesterday when a further meeting was planned for today?’
‘I shall answer that,’ Lady Helen declared fiercely.
‘Shall you, mother dearest?’
‘Alesia!’ Helen’s face was a mask of fury. ‘My husband also confided in me, Sir John.’ Lady Helen apparently considered Athelstan beneath her notice; she hardly glanced at him. ‘My husband was a devout man. He did not ask to hold the Passio Christi, which he regarded as a precious relic. He did not like the Wyvern Company. More importantly, he resented taking the Passio Christi out to them.’
‘So he asked the monks to come here?’
‘Brother, you have it wrong!’ Lady Helen snapped. ‘My husband may have done wrong, been harsh, but he did penance for all that. At the same time he continued to do his duty here in London. You see,’ Lady Helen forced a smile, ‘the bloodstone still had to be taken to St Fulcher’s today for those old soldiers to see whatever happened yesterday.’
‘So?’
‘I was to take it!’ Alesia declared.
‘As was I.’ Crispin rubbed his hands on his gown. ‘Lady Helen is correct. My master hated taking the Passio Christi to St Fulcher’s. He did not go last year and he certainly didn’t intend to this year. The Passio Christi was to be taken by me, Mistress Alesia and Master Edmond. We planned,’ he controlled the quaver in his voice, ‘to leave at first light this morning, which is when I tried to rouse my master.’
‘So why did the good brothers visit here?’ Athelstan insisted. ‘The Passio Christi was a curiosity but why else?’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I know I have asked this before but I want to clarify matters.’
‘My eyesight is failing,’ Crispin explained. ‘I have been examined by skilled oculists. When my master left on pilgrimage I was to be given comfortable lodgings at St Fulcher’s, in the abbot’s own guest house. Prior Alexander, who used to be infirmarian and skilled in physics, would look after my eyes.’
‘And you wanted that?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Crispin confessed. ‘I would be distraught about my master’s leaving but one day he would return.’
‘And the Passio Christi?’ Athelstan asked.
‘You are persistent, Friar,’ Crispin murmured. He glanced around. ‘I must tell the truth.’ He paused. ‘Sir Robert was tired of holding the Passio Christi. He wanted to give it back.’
‘To whom?’ Cranston asked.
‘Why, the Abbey of St Fulcher,’ Alesia replied. ‘Father truly disliked those old soldiers. He’d always thought the bloodstone was taken as the legitimate plunder of war but, in the last few years, he began to wonder whether they had stolen it – an act of sacrilege. Of course he liked to go to the abbey itself. He was a generous benefactor and often visited the brothers.’
‘For what?’ Cranston asked.
‘To retreat, to pray, to fast, to cure his soul.’
‘And would the exchequer have agreed to the Passio Christi being given to the abbey?’ Cranston asked.