Saintly Murders by Paul Doherty (as C. L. Grace)

Author:Paul Doherty (as C. L. Grace) [Doherty, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780755395651
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2013-06-05T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

‘His deeth saugh I by revelatioun …’

– Chaucer, ‘The Summoner’s Tale,’

The Canterbury Tales

Kathryn looked back through the bushes. Chandler’s cell was virtually cut off, though Kathryn could make out the buttresses and cornices, the glint of windows in the friary. Above her the sky was growing darker. She wanted to return to her chamber, yet Chandler’s mysterious references intrigued her.

‘You heard what I said, Mistress. I am not the Accursed. I am a poor woman locked in this chamber for murders I did not commit. My world is what I can see and hear, and believe me, appearances lie. You’d think this line of trees and bushes,’ her voice continued matter-of-factly, ‘was desolate, the nesting place of birds, the hunting ground of stoats?’

‘What have you heard?’ Kathryn asked. ‘What have you seen? Besides Brother Atworth?’

‘Gervase often came over here, not just to tend to me as he would a dog in a kennel. I think he met someone.’

‘Who?’

‘Another friar.’

Kathryn recalled the scandal and gossip of the tap-room which Thomasina loved to repeat.

‘Are you talking of an illicit relationship?’

‘I’m no man’s judge, Mistress Swinbrooke. I have seen two figures in the brown habit of the friars: one of them was definitely Gervase; the other had his face masked.’

‘How many times?’ Kathryn asked.

‘In the last few months, five or six. Gervase apparently came across this evening, but I didn’t see him then.’

‘What?’ Kathryn exclaimed.

‘I saw the flames, heard the crackle, and smelt the smoke,’ Chandler replied. ‘But, talking to you, I am curious. Gervase came across here hours earlier than that.’

‘Are you sure?’ Kathryn demanded.

‘I have told you, Mistress …’

‘Please call me Kathryn.’

‘Thank you, I will. Gervase usually came across here to meet the stranger about three o’clock, when the friary is at its quietest. Brother Timothy has his sleep, and Atworth did the same. I’d glimpsed him coming in through the bushes. On one occasion I heard voices, one raised as if in anger; that was two weeks ago.’

‘Did you ever question Gervase?’

‘Kathryn, I am no fool: What I know and what I tell are two different things.’

‘And you saw Gervase come much earlier this afternoon?’

‘Yes.’

‘But not leave or return just before he was engulfed by fire?’

‘No.’

‘Did you see or hear anyone else?’

‘No one but Gervase!’

Kathryn stepped back. ‘I will return tomorrow,’ she declared. ‘Is there anything you want?’

‘My freedom.’

It was on the tip of Kathryn’s tongue to promise something. She could approach the Archbishop and Luberon, whilst it was not unknown for Royal Servants like Colum to seek a pardon from the Crown.

‘Be of good faith,’ Kathryn replied. ‘I shall return tomorrow.’

Kathryn walked back to the bushes, pushing aside the tangled undergrowth. She kept her hand on the curtain wall. This was the deepest part of the copse, completely obscured from the friary. Near to the buttress she noticed how scuffed the ground was. She crouched down: It was damp. She sniffed at her fingers: blood, water? She couldn’t decide. Kathryn looked up the wall; the buttress provided a natural ladder, and carefully she began to climb.

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