The Grail Murders(66)

Benjamin paused to collect his thoughts. "The Templars always coveted the great relics, the Grail and Arthur's Sword, Excalibur, but these remained hidden. They were content with that, provided no one else discovered them.' Benjamin stared at Mandeville. 'Hopkins began the drama. He had a passion for the relics and believed their discovery would strengthen the Order. My Lord of Buckingham, also a Templar, was drawn into the mystery. He received a message from Hopkins and came to Templecombe but then blundered into the trap My Lord Cardinal had laid for him. Hopkins and Buckingham were killed.' Benjamin glanced at Rachel. 'But I suspect the Templars have a code. No one strikes at their interests and walks away unharmed. Moreover, there was a greater danger: His Grace the King was now interested in these relics and was insisting on a thorough search for them. So the Templars struck.'



Mandeville tapped the top of the table with his knuckles.



'You say Buckingham was a Templar?'



Benjamin smiled thinly. 'Oh, come, Sir Edmund, he could have been a Cardinal of Rome and his fate would have been the same. Don't play games. Buckingham was baited, trapped and killed because my uncle hated him and because he had royal blood in his veins.' Benjamin glared at him. 'Hopkins was a traitor, perhaps deserved his death, but Buckingham was innocent. His death was murder made legal.'



'I will tell My Lord Cardinal your words!'



Benjamin shrugged. 'Do so and dear Uncle will simply laugh and put it down to my youthful impetuosity. I only say what thousands think.'



Mandeville glared down the table at Rachel who sat, hands joined, like some novice at prayer. She seemed fascinated by Benjamin as if he was telling some mysterious tale on a cold winter's night and she was a spectator, not a party to it.

'I cannot believe,' Mandeville jibed, 'that this girl garrotted two experienced agents, Calcraft and Warnham.'

'Oh come, Sir Edmund,' Benjamin replied. 'I have heard how in Spain there are beggar children so skilled with the garrotte they can kill a fully grown man in a matter of seconds. It would have been simple for Rachel.' Benjamin spread his hands. 'Calcraft, and on another occasion Warnham, were invited down to a meeting in some tavern by the riverside where Mistress Rachel was waiting to talk to them. After her coy glances and generous cups of wine, they were lured out into the dark so Rachel might speak where no spy could overhear. Perhaps they sat down. Mistress Rachel would find it so easy; a desolate spot, the garrotte cord in her hands, men in their cups. Just a few seconds, Sir Edmund, and the cord slips round their throat; fuddled in their wits they would struggle but only briefly before lapsing into unconsciousness. If the garrotte cord did not kill, the cold water of the Thames would. Then Rachel would flit back along the alleyways to Richmond Palace.'



'You have proof of that?' Sir John blustered, though his eyes betrayed him.



'Yes and no.' Benjamin replied. 'Except I was intrigued why a scarlet cord should be used. So, before I left London, I took it to one of the maids at Richmond Palace, and do you know what she said?'



Santerre shook his head.



'That it is a sort of material women might buy to serve as piping on their dresses, gowns or cloaks. At the time I dismissed this but later it was a piece which fitted the puzzle.'



Rachel, her lower Up caught between her teeth, shook her head disbelievingly. I felt a chill of fear at her complete imperviousness to what my master was saying.

'Hopkins's sister,' I intervened, 'was also a victim of the garrotte. Rachel, you see, overheard us as we left the hall in Richmond Palace. She subtly covered this up by appearing to be concerned about what dangers might face us here at Templecombe.'



'Why should she kill Hopkins's sister?' Mandeville asked.



'Because,' I replied, 'there was always a danger that Hopkins, who confided in so few people, may have said something to his sister which could have threatened her. And it was so easy.' I spread my hands. 'Rachel slipped out of



Richmond Palace and went hot foot to the house of Hopkins's sister who would, of course, admit her as a friend, the daughter of the lord whom her dead brother had served. Rachel would reassure her, they even shared a goblet of wine, before Rachel slipped the garrotte round her throat. The old woman died, Rachel searched the house for anything which might incriminate her, and then disappeared.'



'That poor old woman was murdered,' Benjamin declared, 'not because she had said or done anything wrong but simply because of what she might know. We tell the truth, I believe, Rachel?'



The girl stared back silently.



'Once we left London,' Benjamin continued, 'the real dance began, didn't it, Roger?'



'Oh, yes,' I replied. 'When we stopped at Glastonbury, Mistress Rachel sent a message, God knows how, to that old witch who was waiting for us with her prophecies. Look, it stands to reason,' I continued. 'No man, or woman could read the future so clearly. Even before we reached Templecombe our deaths were planned. The old hag was really a mummer mouthing lines taught to her and, once her part was played, she too had to die. An easy feat. There must be secret passageways and entrances out of Templecombe. Mistress Rachel used these, first to silence the witch; secondly, to cut off her hands and head in order to frighten us on our return to Glastonbury.'