Crispin nodded.
‘He took a share of the spoils?’
Again, the nod.
‘So he was fervent in his support of such warriors?’
‘Of course, Sir John.’
‘He profited from their plundering. He held the Passio Christi in trust.’
‘Yes.’ Crispin’s nervousness deepened, ‘But that was years ago.’
‘Sir John,’ Alesia intervened, ‘your questions – they’re leading to my father’s recent change of heart.’
‘What change of heart,’ Cranston barked. ‘Why, when?’
‘In the last three years,’ Alesia’s cheeks had turned slightly red, ‘my father grew tired of his life; he wanted to change, to go on pilgrimage, to make reparation.’
‘Reparation for past sins, I presume.’
‘You presume right, Sir John,’ Lady Helen declared. ‘My good husband,’ she darted a venomous look at Alesia, ‘had grown tired of his life.’
‘And his marriage!’ Alesia snapped.
‘How dare you!’
‘Ladies!’ Cranston bellowed, turning to Crispin. ‘Tell me, why did he change now and not five years ago?’
‘I don’t know, Sir John.’
‘According to you,’ Cranston declared, ‘when he met the Wyvern Company on his journeys with the Passio Christi to St Fulcher’s, he grew to hate them, what he saw, what he heard . . .’
‘That’s not entirely true,’ Crispin spluttered. ‘Yes, he had little time for the Wyvern Company but he drew close to one of them, William Chalk. Sir Robert often sought Chalk’s company. They would walk in the gardens or stroll down to the watergate.’
‘Who else was he close to – you?’
‘My master kept his own counsel. He was secretive and prudent. He never discussed his personal thoughts with either me or his family. Isn’t that true?’ Crispin appealed to the others who loudly confirmed his words.
‘So he talked to Master Chalk and who else? I mean, if Sir Robert’s thoughts had turned to judgement and death, he must have had a confidant, a confessor?’
‘Richer,’ Crispin confirmed. ‘I know that. He was often closeted with him, to be shriven, to be set penances.’
‘Such as?’
‘Crawling to the rood screen every Friday, alms for the poor, Masses for the dead.’
‘And contributions to the Upright Men and the Great Community of the Realm?’
Crispin shrugged. ‘Every powerful man in London did and does that.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Merchants are different.’ Crispin was agitated. ‘He only gave them money for the relief of the poor.’
‘You mean a bribe, so that when the doom arrived, this mansion would not be burnt around your heads. Tell me, is there anyone who wanted Sir Robert dead, who would profit from his murder?’
‘My father was much loved.’
‘Mistress, we all are, once we are dead.’
‘Sir John . . .’
‘Don’t “Sir John” me,’ Cranston retorted. ‘Are the seals on Sir Robert’s chamber still unbroken?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why didn’t he want to take the Passio Christi himself to St Fulcher’s?’
‘We have answered that,’ Alesia replied. ‘My father grew tired, weary of it all. He was old. The journey, especially during winter, was hard.’
‘No.’ Cranston shook his head. ‘It was more than that.’
‘If it was we didn’t know. He didn’t tell us.’
‘Is that so, Master Crispin? By the way, why was the bloodstone taken at Easter and on the feast of St Damasus?’
‘Well, Easter celebrates Christ’s Passion and Resurrection; the bloodstone was said to have originated during those three days.’
‘And St Damasus?’
‘A pope of the early church who wrote an extensive treaty on the Passio Christi, its origins, power and the miracles it worked.’
‘And where’s that?’
Crispin blew his cheeks out. ‘Still held by the monks of St Calliste near Poitiers, or so I believe but,’ he hurried on, ‘that’s why Damasus’ feast day was chosen.’
‘There is something very wrong here,’ Cranston declared. ‘Item,’ he emphasised his points with his fingers. ‘Sir Robert, God assoil him, was a hard-headed merchant. Years ago he financed the Wyverns, a marauding free company in France. He took a share of their plunder. Yes?’
No one objected.
‘Item: He held the Passio Christi for years. He’d heard the accepted story but he must have also entertained the accepted doubts. Item: Sir Robert also knew the Wyverns for years? He apparently suffered no scruples. But then, during his visits to St Fulcher’s, he radically changes. He cannot tolerate the Wyverns.’