Bloodstone(58)

‘What passed between us, Brother, is protected by the seal.’

‘Where do you think the Passio Christi truly belongs?’

‘St Calliste.’

‘Is your uncle still abbot there?’

Richer smiled. ‘Yes, he enjoys robust health, thank God.’

‘And Kilverby,’ Athelstan continued, ‘he brought the Passio Christi here at the appointed time for the Wyvern Company to view?’

‘He used to,’ Prior Alexander declared. ‘We’ve told you that.’

‘And his relationship with the Wyverns was cordial? After all, he did finance them during the war with France.’

‘From what we know,’ Lord Walter intervened, ‘Kilverby was always distant and aloof but he was amicable enough towards the Wyverns.’

‘And this changed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Sir Robert began to reflect most carefully about them. He changed his opinion of those he once patronized.’

‘Encouraged by you, Brother Richer?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know precisely. Did you advise Sir Robert?’

‘Of course I did. He was a man much burdened with sin,’ the Frenchman replied. ‘I shrived him. I gave him ghostly advice.’

‘Did he tell you his true opinion of the Wyvern Company?’

‘He grew to dislike them intensely. He claimed he’d always believed their story about the Passio Christi but he came to the conclusion that they hadn’t found it but stolen it.’

‘A conclusion you helped him reach?’

‘I didn’t disagree with him.’

‘Then Kilverby,’ Cranston asked, ‘stopped bringing the Passio Christi here?’

‘Yes,’ Lord Walter replied, ‘last year it was brought by Crispin and Mistress Alesia.’

Athelstan tapped a sandalled foot against the floor.

‘You don’t believe us?’ Richer asked. ‘You think we lie?’

‘No,’ Athelstan retorted. ‘You’re not lying but you’re not telling the full truth either. Kilverby was a leading London merchant, hard of heart, keen of wit and cunning as a snake. He financed and profited from the Wyverns. He must have suspected their story about the bloodstone years ago so why the change now?’

‘God’s grace,’ Richer declared, ‘my counsel.’

‘No,’ Athelstan retorted, ‘something else.’

‘Such as?’ Richer had recovered his arrogance. ‘Why not ask Master Crispin?’

‘Did you give Crispin ghostly comfort too, Brother Richer?’

‘Master Crispin and Sir Robert were regular visitors here,’ Richer replied. ‘I counselled Sir Robert but only exchanged pleasantries with Crispin.’

‘Can any of you three,’ Cranston gestured around, ‘cast any light on Sir Robert’s murder or the disappearance of the Passio Christi?’ The coroner’s question was greeted with muttered denials. ‘And the murders here in your abbey?’

‘Sir John,’ Lord Walter retorted, ‘you know as much as we do.’

‘And the fire in Brokersby’s chamber?’

‘Most unfortunate.’ The abbot sighed.

‘Would he,’ Athelstan insisted, ‘have any reasons to keep oil in his chamber?’

‘Not that I am aware of.’

‘And the bedside candle?’

‘Visit our chandler, Brother Athelstan,’ Prior Alexander replied. ‘Such candles are dispensed to all chambers in the guest house – tall, thick, fashioned out of tallow but still the best. They are fixed on a stand with a cap. I don’t think such a fire could be caused even if this candle was knocked over. I mean,’ the prior flailed a hand, ‘such a conflagration.’

Athelstan glanced at Cranston and raised his eyes heavenwards.

‘We have to go.’ The coroner abruptly rose to his feet, bowed and, followed by Athelstan, walked to the door. Cranston abruptly turned.

‘Lord Abbot, your sister Eleanor Remiet – her maiden name?’

‘Why, the same as mine, Chobham. She married a Gascon, Velours, then remarried Master Remiet, who also died. My niece is the only child of her first marriage. Is that all?’

‘No.’ Athelstan pointed at Richer. ‘Brother, if I could have a word with you in private.’

The Frenchman looked as if he was going to object.

‘Just we two.’ Athelstan smiled. ‘Sir John will not be present.’

Richer shrugged and followed them out down to the courtyard. Athelstan waited until Cranston was out of hearing and turned.

‘Brother Richer, are you an assassin?’

‘How dare you!’

‘The day Hyde was stabbed to death close to the watergate – you went down there that afternoon. You were seen carrying a sword.’