Murder In Maastricht (Master Mercurius Mysteries Book 7) by Graham Brack

Author:Graham Brack [Brack, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2023-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

On the motion of the Prior, all withdrew from the library to pray for the soul of the lately departed Armand, except myself, Abbess Mathilde, and von Anethan who insisted on remaining in case she succumbed to feminine frailty and fainted. I saw no sign that she was in danger of doing so. Instead, she sat upon a stool slightly behind his feet on his left side so that her drawing would include his face. Having completed that with commendable rapidity and accuracy, she then suggested that she should draw the wound so that we would have a permanent reminder of its appearance.

‘Is that really necessary?’ von Anethan demanded.

‘If we do not, then we can hardly bury him until we have found the weapon,’ she explained, thus doing my job for me. I had started to think along those lines but had not quite formulated the thought into a sentence. I had, however, formulated another sentence for von Anethan, but if I had voiced it aloud I would have been excommunicated for saying such a thing to a bishop. Fair comment on a matter of public interest is not a defence likely to prove successful in the Catholic Church where abuse of a bishop is concerned.

We carefully lifted Armand and turned him over, the better to see the wound. It was exceedingly ugly. It began slightly in front of his right ear and extended around a hand’s span upward towards the crown of the skull. There was a lot of blood which would have to be washed off carefully in due course, but the front edge of the wound was very straight, the rear edge less so. The front had penetrated about the thickness of two thumbs, pushing the skull before it. Whatever implement had done this must have been swung with great force by a very strong man — or, conceivably, a demon.

I left Abbess Mathilde drawing while I examined the button that Brother Simon had found. It was a very ordinary button made of horn and painted black. This might sound quite distinctive, but I could immediately think of half a dozen of us who were wearing garments that might have had such a button, including myself; and there was always the possibility that it had nothing to do with the crime and had been there for days beforehand.

I will confess that I had not liked Armand. He was boastful and arrogant, but if we allow people to go around killing anyone boastful and arrogant the streets would be much less crowded and the next papal conclave would be very short of electors. Besides which, nobody deserves to die in such a way. It must have been mercifully quick, I suppose, but surely painful and terrifying. How awful it must be to realise that you are about to die; no wonder his face looked so anguished.

Lacking windows as it did, the library was naturally gloomy, but nobody could have sneaked out as we entered. I came out

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