Bloodstone(60)

‘Item:’ Athelstan began, ‘The murder of Kilverby and the disappearance of the Passio Christi? Any thoughts?’

Cranston shook his head.

‘Neither have I.’ Athelstan sighed. ‘We are assured that chamber was secured locked and no one entered or left. Nevertheless, Kilverby was poisoned, the Passio Christi taken. We know the merchant was visited earlier that day. He showed the two monks the Passio Christi which was to be brought here on the morrow. The bloodstone was displayed in the solar. Kilverby, escorted by Crispin, then took it back to his chamber. Everything must have been in order. The bloodstone was locked away. We know that, we saw the locked coffer. Kilverby kept the keys round his neck. The chancery was also secured. Kilverby joined his family for supper before returning to his chamber. Only then does hell’s black spy, the killer, manifest himself, or herself.’ He added wistfully: ‘Certainly some hell-born soul contrived a trap which created this mystery.’

‘I talked to Crispin,’ Cranston declared. ‘I did the same with Jumble-guts.’

‘Who?’

‘One of my spies along Cheapside, called so because his belly rumbles like a drum. Both Crispin and Jumble-guts sing the same hymn. It would be almost impossible, as well as highly dangerous, to try and sell the bloodstone on the open market.’

‘So why was it stolen in the first place?’ Athelstan exclaimed. ‘My mistake, Sir John. We should discover as much as we can about that sacred ruby but . . .’

Athelstan picked up his quill pen, stared at its plume then the point, dipped it in the ink and became lost in his own thoughts.

‘Friar?’

‘I’m thinking about the attacks on me, Sir John. No,’ Athelstan shook his head, ‘I cannot say much. I can only remember fragments that I cannot properly explain.’

‘Such as?’ Cranston demanded.

‘Oh, just who was where when that crossbow was loosed. The speed with which my assailant entered the charnel house and extinguished those torches just within the doorway.’ Athelstan shook his head. ‘Never mind. What we do have in this abbey is the Wyvern Company disliked and barely tolerated. Abbot Walter may have confidence in their presence if his abbey is ever attacked, yet I am sure he would like to rid himself of the old soldiers. They’re an embarrassment and possible provocation to the Upright Men who may have dispatched assassins to kill Hanep, Hyde and Brokersby. Our abbot is supposed to pay the Upright Men protection money, but for his own secret reasons, has withheld this.’ Athelstan stroked his face with the plume of his quill pen. ‘By the way, Sir John, you say you recognized Eleanor Remiet?’

‘I did, I’m sure.’ Cranston tapped his feet on the floor. ‘God send me his grace. I recognized her face but it’s years, decades ago.’ He glanced up. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘At first I wondered if Isabella Velours was the abbot’s mistress. Of course that’s not true. However, I believe she is not his niece but his daughter.’

‘What?’

‘Nor do I believe Eleanor Remiet is his sister.’ Athelstan continued: ‘Although I accept she’s Isabella’s mother. I am sure if we made careful search in certain parish and manor records we’d uncover a legion of lies regarding those precious three.’

‘We could do that.’

‘Come, Sir John, it would take months. Moreover, Lord Walter’s private life is not our concern, even if our abbot doesn’t give a fig about anything except that swan and his two women.’

‘You’ve little evidence for what you say.’

‘Sir John, why should the abbot be so concerned about his niece? No, Isabella is his daughter and, more importantly, she has just come of age and . . .’

‘Needs a dowry,’ Cranston breathed.

‘Hence the money to the Upright Men being drained away along with whatever else Abbot Walter can seize.’

‘Do you think the Wyvern Company found out about Isabella?’

‘I doubt it.’ Athelstan stopped writing the cipher he always used to record his thoughts. ‘Quite honestly, I don’t think the Wyvern Company give a fig about Isabella being Abbot Walter’s niece or his daughter. They are more concerned about themselves.’

‘And Prior Alexander?’

‘Basically a good man with sympathies for the common folk. The reception of my parishioners was his work. I must thank him. We know one of his kinsman, a hedge priest, was hanged out of hand by the Wyvern Company. Prior Alexander may want revenge. He is still vigorous, able to wield a sword. He dislikes the Wyverns, whilst he was here when all three died.’ Athelstan put his tray aside, rose and stretched.