Abbot's Passion Read online

  ‘You don’t look much like him.’

  ‘He takes after mother,’ I said irritably. ‘Now look, what exactly happened yesterday? Be honest now.’

  Hamo merely shrugged. ‘Honest? The honest truth is I don’t know. One minute that mad dwarf monk was trying to break my leg and the next he’s lying on his back with a pole through him.’

  ‘That’s right. You grabbed it from him and thrust it between his ribs.’

  ‘I grabbed nothing, ’cept my bleeding leg,’ he said rubbing it. ‘I was sure he broke it.’

  I nodded to his longbow. ‘I saw what you did with that. Quite the marksman. It takes strength to pull a bow like that. You could easily have put that pole through his chest.’

  ‘Well I didn’t, and that’s all there is to it.’

  ‘But you must have seen who did.’

  ‘I didn’t see nuffink. Except stars.’ He rubbed his injured leg again.

  ‘In that case why not come back with Gilbert and me now? Tell your story. If what you say is true you will be believed.’

  ‘My word against that French monk?’ He snorted. ‘Fat chance.’

  ‘Well you can’t stay out here for ever. Not with sheriff’s men looking for you. You know they’ve been to your home already?’

  ‘I know. And I’ll take my chances. Which is why I’m going to have to relieve you of a little more than bread and cheese. Sorry brother.’

  I’d already felt the point of his knife digging into my ribcage.

  ‘This won’t help you. It will just convince others of your guilt.’

  ‘Can’t help that,’ he said hobbling up onto his one good leg while holding onto my collar. ‘Get up please, brother.’

  He kept hold of my robe as we both got up and he gingerly put his bad foot down on the ground. He seemed satisfied with my binding skills. I could see Gilbert trying to edge closer so I put out my hand to ward him off before he got us both killed by accident or design.

  ‘You there,’ he called to Gilbert. ‘Fetch me them money bags.’

  Gilbert didn’t move, so Hamo made a show of putting the knife up to my throat.

  ‘Get him the bags,’ I said to Gilbert.

  ‘But master!’

  ‘Just do it.’

  With great reluctance Gilbert picked up the eight bags and threw them at Hamo’s feet.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take one of your mules as well.’

  ‘You can’t!’ protested Gilbert. ‘You can’t leave us out here in the middle of nowhere with no mule.’

  ‘I’m only taking one. You two can share the other one.’

  He then ordered Gilbert to tie the money bags onto Agamemnon’s rump. I knew the mule wouldn’t like that, those bags were heavy. Four had been bad enough. Now Agamemnon had twice the weight and I wondered how he would react. Still holding on to me Hamo hobbled over to Agamemnon. Then when he was ready he pushed me over so I fell onto my hands and knees and at the same time heaved himself onto the mule’s back. A moment later he dug his heels for all he was worth into Agamemnon’s flanks and took off.

  But he didn’t get very far. Seeing her mate leaving without her, Clytemnestra let out a loud whinny which brought Agamemnon to an abrupt stop. Try as he might Hamo could not make Agamemnon go a step further. Stubborn as a mule indeed! As soon as we realised what had happened Gilbert and I both raced towards him, but even with his bad leg Hamo was too quick for us. Cursing loudly he slid off Agamemnon’s back and grabbed the money bags. But he couldn’t manage all eight of them. With just two slung over each shoulder, he set off across the marshland with his bad leg dragging in the mire and Gilbert and me in hot pursuit.

  At the edge of the road we stopped. Before us was an ocean of bog and swamp spreading for miles with who-knew-what hidden pitfalls beneath the surface.

  ‘Should we not try to follow, master?’ said Gilbert excitedly urging me on. ‘He’s encumbered. We can catch him easily!’

  ‘No, let him go. Chances are he won’t get far. He’ll starve out here alone. Look, he’s even left his bow behind.’

  ‘But master! He still has half the money!’

  ‘The fens are notoriously dangerous, Gilbert. Armies have been lost in these waters. Besides, we’ve got a job to do. Remember the Bishop of Ely?’

  We stood and watched as Hamo splashed and bobbed his way further and further away from us. Soon as he realised we weren’t following he slowed and became a figure gradually receding into the distance. I doubted if he knew the fens any better than we did, and it would solve a great many problems if Hamo were to drown, not the least being how I was going to explain to Samson what happened to the fifteen marks we were supposed to give to Bishop Eustace. But I secretly hoped he wouldn’t drown for I knew now for certain that he was innocent. I’d given him ample opportunity to put the blame on someone else but he didn’t take it. And something else Gilbert didn’t know: when he held that blade to my neck it was the blunt side he held against my skin. He couldn’t kill me any more than he could have killed Brother Fidele.

  Chapter Nine

  …AND BACK AGAIN

  We got to Ely without further incident or indeed without much conversation both Gilbert and I being lost in our own private thoughts. I imagined my standing in his eyes had plummeted since our encounter with Hamo. Certainly when our eyes did meet the look in his was less than its usual adoring devotion. I could have explained all the arguments about iron bars and left and right poles and all the rest, but I wasn’t sure at the end of it whether he would be any more convinced and I needed to concentrate my mind on the more important matter of explaining to Bishop Eustace why the expected sum of fifteen marks was now only half that amount. I’ll skip quickly over the excruciating audience I had with the bishop and his cohort of smirking advisers as they listened to my recitation of errors and catastrophes. The bishop was polite but we never even got to negotiate over the Lakenheath market. If we had I think I know what his answer would have been. I think he was secretly pleased for it meant he could leave matters where they were. Gilbert and I were lodged comfortably enough in the palace grounds and joined the cathedral monks at compline and supper. I saw no more of the bishop before we left next morning for our return journey to Bury. And Bishop Eustace wasn’t the only senior cleric I would have to do my explaining to. There was the looming interview with Samson when I got back and which I rehearsed in my head all the way, remarkably accurately as it turned out…

  ‘Lost it? What do mean you lost it? You’ve managed to lose ten pounds of silver? Eight bags? Fifteen marks? Two thousand four hundred pennies?’

  ‘Only half that amount, father,’ I squirmed. ‘He only got away with half - four bags.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s all right then.’ He banged his hand down hard on the desktop. ‘What have you done with the other four?’

  ‘Put them back in the treasury.’

  ‘This is coming out of your budget, Walter,’ he warned, ‘not mine. It’s going to take you years - years to repay it.’

  ‘That’s not very fair, father. Gilbert and I were the victims of crime. We didn’t choose to be robbed.’

  ‘You chose to go into that inn which shows a complete lack of responsibility.’

  ‘We had to. The boy -’

  ‘Don’t try to blame Gilbert for this,’ he interrupted sternly. ‘You were the senior man. You should have foreseen the consequences.’

  I must say I was a little peeved that the money was his main focus of concern and not gratification that Gilbert and I had returned with life and limb intact. But this was Samson of Tottington, arch-book-keeper extraordinary. Money has always been more important to him than flesh and blood.

  ‘The boy was indisposed,’ I persisted. ‘Probably from that sour fish we had at supper Sunday night because Jocellus wasn’t able to buy fresh at the market. I’ve been feeling queasy myself ever since.’

  ‘I knew it was a bad idea to take Gilbert with you. I should never have let you talk me into it.’ />
  My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. ‘That was your idea!’

  ‘Never mind all that,’ he said waving a dismissive hand. ‘You’re sure the thief - the successful one - was the same man who murdered Brother Fidele?’

  ‘Accused of murdering him - yes, it was Hamo.’

  ‘Only you said he was wearing a mask.’

  ‘He took it off.’

  ‘Not even a very accomplished thief then.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s any kind of thief - unlike the gang posing as pilgrims.’

  Samson stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘What I can’t understand is how he knew where to find you. He must have followed you, it’s the only explanation. If that doesn’t prove malice aforethought I don’t what does.’

  ‘I’m sure he only took the money in order to sustain himself.’

  ‘On five pounds of silver I should think he’ll sustain himself very well. Why didn’t you arrest him? There were two of you, and you say he was injured.’

  ‘It’s…difficult to explain father.’

  ‘Try.’

  I shrugged. ‘I simply don’t believe he is the murderer. I’ve met the man, I had a long talk to him. He’s just an ordinary trader - brash, but then all Londoners are brash. I don’t think he has the first clue what happened on Sunday or why. All he’s trying to do now is avoid capture and stay alive.’

  ‘Your trouble, Walter, is that you’re far too gullible. You fall for any sob story. Did he say anything else - anything useful I mean, like where he’s been hiding or who’s been helping him?’

  I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about Joseph.

  ‘He said he was heading back to his home territory,’ I hedged. ‘To his village near London.’

  ‘Good. The sheriff’s men are there. They’ll apprehend him.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I told him.’

  ‘You what? God in heaven, Walter, you astound me! If I didn’t know better I’d swear the abbot-legate is right and you really are in league with the man. You dress his wounds, you feed him, you warn him of danger. Are you sure you didn’t just give him the money?’

  I drew myself erect. ‘I am still a medic, father abbot, an adherer of the ethics of Hippocrates and Galen. As such I am duty-bound to aid the sick whoever they are and whatever they’ve done.’

  ‘Tch! I swear you’d have resuscitated Judas Iscariot if you’d found him hanging from the tree.’

  ‘Yes I would.’

  ‘I believe you.’ He leaned towards me. ‘And that, master physician, is the only reason you’re not in Anselm’s tower right now.’

  He paused, mulling things over.

  ‘What did Bishop Eustace say when you told him you no longer had his charter money as promised?’

  ‘He was amused - I think. It was difficult to tell. He was certainly grinning.’

  ‘Oh I’m sure he was. I bet he’s laughing into his mitre. Now he has the perfect excuse to persevere with the Lakenheath market knowing the king will not object.’ He shook his head. ‘Well there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ve been summoned to London by the king on more important matters - matters of state. While I’m there I’ll try to persuade his grace to revoke the charter he granted to Bishop Eustace if I get the chance, but with King Philip rattling his war sword again I doubt John will be interested in our petty problems.’

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Today?’ I said, alarmed.

  ‘No, I mean right now, this instant.’

  He stood up and nodded towards the door. I hadn’t noticed but a servant was hovering there with what looked like the abbot’s travelling luggage.

  ‘You’re going to leave us at the mercy of Abbot Eustache?’ I said appalled. ‘With all that’s going on?’

  ‘I have no choice. When the king calls I have to respond. Don’t worry, Prior Robert will be here.’

  ‘Prior Robert is on his deathbed.’

  ‘Then you will just have to cope as best you can, won’t you? You, Jocelin and Jocellus, since you three seem to be the chief players in this little drama. Between you, you can keep a lid on things until I get back.’

  ‘Which will be when?’

  ‘It’ll only be a few days. I’ll decide what to do about Lakenheath when I return - assuming the world hasn’t gone up in flames in the meantime.’

  The world didn’t go up in flames but it might have solved a lot of problems if it had. As soon as Samson had left I went straight round to Joseph’s shop. This time there was no stick across the entrance. I went straight in.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  Without being asked, I marched into his back room. A minute later he joined me drying his hands on a cloth.

  ‘Three visits in two days, Walter. This must be something of a record. Not that I’m not always delighted to see you, of course. How is your toothache?’

  ‘Never mind my toothache. I want an explanation.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For why you went to the marketplace on Sunday when I specifically asked you not to.’

  ‘I don’t recollect your saying that. As I remember the conversation, you advised me to shut up shop for the day - which I did.’

  ‘That was so as to avoid a confrontation with the abbot-legate. You deliberately went to the market knowing he’d be there. You were seen.’

  ‘By you?’

  ‘No, not by me.’

  ‘By Abbot Eustache?’

  ‘No, but -’

  ‘Then there’s no harm done.’ He gave me one of his infuriatingly smug smiles, at least as infuriating as Chrétien’s.

  ‘But why take that risk?’

  ‘If you’ll stop strutting like an agitated peacock and sit down I’ll tell you.’

  I sat. He sat too and laced his long fingers together. I knew from that that I was in for one of his elevating lectures.

  ‘There is an ancient piece of wisdom among us Arabs. Roughly translated it says that he who knows his enemy can win a thousand battles. He who does not is doomed to die. You say Abbot Eustache is my enemy. I simply wanted to see the man for myself.’

  ‘Well now that you’ve seen him what conclusion have you come to?’

  ‘That he is a dangerous man - although,’ he added with a glint in his eye, ‘less so without his clerk.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Simply that Fidele was Eustache’s eyes and ears. Without him the abbot’s sting is, shall we say, less painful.’

  ‘Is that why you helped Hamo?’

  He contrived to look innocent. ‘Who?’

  ‘Oh stop playing games, Joseph. I’m talking about your part in assisting a felon to escape justice.’

  ‘Accused felon.’

  ‘I think you’ll find in law it’s the same thing. And I note you’re not denying it. You know you could be arrested for helping him? It’s exactly the sort of excuse Abbot Eustache is looking for.’

  ‘I couldn’t stand idly by when I saw an injustice about to be perpetrated.’

  ‘Meaning you don’t believe Hamo killed Fidele?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well we agree on that at least. And I suppose you know who did kill him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Then in God’s name, tell me.’

  ‘In God’s name, no.’

  ‘Why not?’ I suddenly had a dreadful thought: ‘It wasn’t you, was it?’

  He smiled. ‘Why would I want to kill Fidele?’

  ‘You said yourself, Eustache is less of a threat without him.’

  He looked at me sternly. ‘Walter, however much the abbot-legate may hate me and my kind it would not be enough to make me take his life much less that of his clerk.’

  Did I believe him? I don’t know. But it was a relief to hear him say so. The possibility that he was Fidele’s killer had crossed my mind before.

  I swallowed painfully. ‘I think I’ll have that cup of herbal tea now.’

  ‘I d
idn’t offer you any.’ But he clapped his hands together and as if by magic Chrétien appeared with two steaming cups on a tray.’

  ‘Why won’t you tell me who killed Fidele?’ I said when we were alone again. ‘It would exonerate you and release Hamo from the hue and cry.’

  ‘Would it? I am a Jew. All Jews lie, everyone knows that. And nobody cares about a London trader. I can’t prove Hamo didn’t murder Fidele any more than I can prove the real murderer did. And if I accuse him…or her,’ he smiled, ‘think what a gift that would be to Abbot Eustache. Which is why you must do it.’

  I nearly choked on my tea. ‘Me?’

  ‘Who else? You said yourself you don’t believe Hamo killed the clerk either.’

  ‘But unlike you I didn’t see who did.’

  He smiled. ‘You’ll work it out. I have every faith.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  For answer he merely shrugged.

  He was infuriating. ‘Listen to me,’ I said, ‘Abbot Samson is in London, he’s going to be away for a week. In the meantime Abbot Eustache is in virtual command of the abbey. Please, for my sake, do nothing that might draw attention to yourself at least until Samson returns.’

  ‘Do not worry, I won’t go near Abbot Eustache. I am not a fool. I intend to hang on to my neck.’

  ‘That isn’t what I meant. If the real murderer finds out you know or even suspects his identity, he may decide it’s your turn next.’

  What was I to do? Samson wasn’t here. Even if he was I couldn’t go to him and tell him I knew who the murderer was, because I didn’t. I couldn’t tell him Joseph did either for then it would have to come out that he helped Hamo escape and Joseph would be arrested for assisting a fugitive. Worse, I might be arrested as well. It looked like Joseph was right. The only way out of this mess was for someone - me - to find the evidence to prove who the real killer was. But as yet I didn’t even have a suspect.

  For now, though, I had enough to worry about with the abbot-legate. In the absence of Abbot Samson he was clearly making the most of his position as the most senior cleric at the abbey. And it didn’t take him long to make his presence felt for he was about to plunge us into one of the most shameful episodes I can remember in all my time at Saint Edmund’s.