Bloodstone(13)

‘My father . . .’ Alesia’s voice faltered, she looked askance at Crispin.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake tell them the rest,’ Lady Helen almost shouted. ‘Sir Robert intended to leave the Passio Christi at St Fulcher’s and let the Crown fight its own battle. The Abbey of St Calliste outside Poitiers was Benedictine. Sir Robert couldn’t return it there but he could at least hand it over to the Benedictines in this kingdom. True?’

Athelstan glanced at the others, who murmured their agreement.

‘Very astute,’ Athelstan murmured. ‘Once Holy Mother Church seizes something, it is very difficult to force her to relinquish it, especially when she can claim rights in the first place. So,’ he drew a deep breath, ‘nothing else was discussed? You’re sure the Passio Christi was still here when the good brothers left?’

‘We all saw it,’ Edmond replied. ‘Brother Athelstan, I know what you are thinking.’

‘Do you?’ Athelstan smiled. ‘Then you are a better man than I.’

‘I suspect you are wondering whether we allowed the Passio Christi to be taken by our visitors, but that would have been highly dangerous. The Crown would have blamed us, yes?’

Athelstan nodded.

‘What Edmond is saying,’ Alesia spoke up, ‘is my father would have taken the bloodstone to St Fulcher’s on the very day he left for Jerusalem. It would be his decision, his responsibility, not ours. Brother,’ Alesia waved around, ‘look at our great wealth. My father was a hard but honourable man; in his last days he turned more and more to God. Sir John,’ she appealed to the coroner. ‘Would you like to be the custodian of the Passio Christi? A sacred relic possibly pillaged from the sanctuary of an abbey?’

‘But why the change?’ Cranston asked. ‘After all the bloodstone was in his care for decades, yes?’

‘In years past my father would take it to the exchequer at Westminster where one or all of the Wyvern Company would always be present. He simply viewed that as part of his many business relationships.’

‘And recently?’

‘Four years ago the Wyverns were given lodgings at St Fulcher’s. It was agreed that the twice a year journey would take place whilst they were there.’

‘Why?’

‘The soldiers were growing old; William Chalk became frail. My father also had considerable business with the abbey. All parties agreed to that so the indenture was amended accordingly.’

‘And Sir Robert’s attitude towards the Wyverns?’

‘At first they were simply one group amongst my father’s many commercial acquaintances. However, once they were at St Fulcher’s, my father’s attitude towards them changed. I suspect that as he grew more devout, he began to question whether they really had stolen it. He grew to resent them.’

‘Why did he change?’

‘I’ve told you, there are two accounts: first that the Wyvern Company found the Passio Christi, the other that they’d stolen it. My father began to believe the latter.’

‘Did he have proof for that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘When your father visited St Fulcher’s, which monk was he friendly with?’

Alesia moved her head from side to side. ‘From what I gather . . .’ She glanced at Crispin.

‘Abbot Walter,’ the old clerk replied. ‘Prior Alexander as well as the young Frenchman, Sub-Prior Richer.’

‘Did any of them,’ Athelstan asked, ‘give your father ghostly advice?’

‘He spoke to all three – I don’t really know.’

‘So,’ Cranston declared, ‘Sir Robert Kilverby came to dislike those old soldiers; he also resented holding the Passio Christi. He didn’t like what he’d done or what he was doing. He turned to God. He was preparing to leave on pilgrimage and that raises a further possibility. Did Sir Robert himself decide to get rid of the Passio Christi?’

‘What?’ Adam Lestral’s voice was thin and reedy. ‘Sir John, are you saying that Sir Robert took the Passio Christi and cast it down the privy or threw it into the street?’

Despite the petulant, strident tone Athelstan recognized the logic of the question. If this company were to be believed, and on this Athelstan certainly did, Sir Robert regarded the Passio Christi as a most sacred relic to be securely kept, not thrown away like a piece of rubbish.

‘We would all go on oath,’ Alesia said quietly. ‘The Passio Christi was here last night long after those monks had returned to their abbey. Look at my father’s chancery chamber; there is no hiding place, no window to open even if he wanted to throw something away.’