My words created an eerie silence.
*I should have had that witch brought in!' Mandeville cursed.
"The witch can't be blamed,' Rachel declared softly. 'She only spoke the truth: this house is haunted. The spirits of the Templars wander its passageways and galleries. Cosmas's death is not the first tragedy to have occurred here.' Her face hardened. 'Oh, yes, there have been other deaths here, haven't there, Mother?' She did not wait for a reply. 'My own father was killed in a riding accident. Servants have slipped downstairs. An old nurse hanged herself in one of the barns. A gardener was found drowned in the lake. Suicides, or so the coroner declared.'
Rachel's sombre words chilled all our souls.
'Is this true?' Benjamin asked her parents.
Santerre nodded. Lady Beatrice rubbed her face in her hands, distraught, losing her air of frosty self-possession.
'Yes,' she answered reluctantly. 'Many say this house is haunted. The common people do not blame me or my husband for Buckingham's downfall but say his fate was star-crossed by this house. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could burn the entire building to the ground!'
'We could always make a start,' Southgate quipped.
'Nonsense!' Benjamin replied. 'True, I accept the legions of hell are all around us. We fight, as St Paul says, against an invisible foe. Ghosts may walk but so do murderers. Cosmas's death had more to do with flesh and blood than curses, witches or ghosts.' He smiled bleakly at Rachel. 'Though I agree that the old witch has a most singular gift for prophecy. Sir Edmund Mandeville is correct - perhaps she should be brought in for questioning. However, before we consider that, let's establish if anyone went into Cosmas's room.'
Damien the mute had been watching my master's hps intently. He tugged me by the sleeve and pointed to Santerre's wife.
'Lady Beatrice, did you go into Cosmas's chamber?' Mandeville asked.
'Yes, earlier in the day I did. I am mistress of this house and I have to see that all is well.'
'As did I,' Sir John added. 'For the same reason.'
‘I saw a maid going in,' Southgate declared. 'A brown-haired lass with a white coif on her head. She was carrying blankets and linen.'
'That would be Mathilda,' Sir John replied. 'But she's a simple country girl with hardly a thought in her head. Nevertheless, I'll question her.'
'I don't think a maid,' Benjamin asserted, 'would plot murder. Sir John, how long did yesterday's evening meal last?'
'About two hours.'
Benjamin stared down at the table top. 'Roger was the first to leave, then you, Master Southgate, followed by Lady Beatrice and Sir John. Finally you, sir,' he pointed at Mandeville, 'with your two clerks.'
'And what time did you leave?' Southgate asked.
Benjamin blushed. 'I didn't. Lady Rachel and I remained here. She collected a book from her father's library containing all the Arthurian legends, a copy of Malory's Arthur of Britain and the Knights of the Round Table.’
My heart chilled and I gnawed at my lip to hide my disappointment. Rachel had caught my eye but it seemed her interest was in my master rather than me.
'What are you implying?' Mandeville asked.
'I am implying nothing. I'm just curious if anyone visited poor Cosmas's chamber.'
A chorus of denials greeted his question. Mandeville stood and picked up his cloak, thrown over the back of a chair.
'We were to travel to Glastonbury today but first I must deal with this dreadful business. Sir John, I will need some sort of box to serve as a coffin for poor Cosmas. This can be placed in your manor chapel and perhaps tomorrow, on our way to Glastonbury, we can leave it at the village church. I also have letters to write. His Grace the King will not be pleased by what I have to say. Master Southgate?'
Both the Agentes took their leave, followed by a silent, doleful Damien.
Lady Beatrice and Rachel murmured their excuses whilst
Sir John stretched, grumbling that it was all a dreadful business but the affairs of the estate demanded his attention.
Benjamin watched him leave. 'I wonder where Sir John is really going?' he muttered.
'If he had any sense he'd stay here and keep an eye on his daughter,' I quipped back. 'You did not tell me, Master, that you spent the night down here in the hall playing cat's-cradle with Mistress Rachel?'
Benjamin smiled. 'She's beautiful, isn't she, Roger? But she's not for you and she's certainly not for me. This is no game. We are surrounded by death, murder, plot and counter-plot. There is no time for dalliance. Trust no one except me until this matter is finished.'
He stared round. 'Roger, despite the quilted cushions, the golden clocks, the silver spoons and Venetian goblets, this house has the stink of death about it. I did not wish openly to agree with her but Mistress Rachel was correct. There is something about this place which reeks of ancient sin and, the sooner our task is completed, the better.'