‘And the cross?’
‘My men have it.’ Sir John plucked at a trailing briar. ‘How did you know?’
‘I could say deduction and reasoning, Sir John. But I suppose it was Father Aylred really. More a matter of grace than logic. He said something evil had come to Ravenscroft, not the ghosts or phantasms of Midnight Tower, but something else. I’ll tell you later how they used that damnable door in the Salt Tower and covered for each other.’ He smiled. ‘In a sense, Beatrice helped. Marisa was so vain; she had to wear Beatrice’s fragrance and I smelt it in places I shouldn’t have. They are responsible for all the deaths. Only the good Lord knows how they will answer for their crimes to Him but answer they will.’ He gestured at the marsh. ‘Will you leave her corpse there?’
‘I have no choice. The mire is as deep as Hell.’ Sir John straightened and helped Ralph up. ‘The royal commissioners arrived just as I left. I told them to wait. They look good men – a lawyer from the Inns of Court and a sharp-eyed knight, Sir Godfrey Evesden. Come on, lad.’ Sir John clapped him on the shoulder. ‘What you did was rather stupid, you know. Those two would have killed you without a second thought.’
Ralph shrugged. ‘It was the only way, Sir John.’
They walked back towards the glade.
‘Adam and Marisa would never have confessed or betrayed their greed until they had their hands on Brythnoth’s cross. I discovered where it was, the rest I left in the hands of God. If I hadn’t found it,’ he spread his hands, ‘who knows what would have happened.’
‘The good Lord must have protected you.’
‘Yes, and Beatrice. That cross, Sir John, was worn by a man who stood on the beaches of Essex and defended this shire against invaders. I do not think the angels of Heaven would have allowed two greedy malefactors to seize it so easily.’
They reached the glade. Adam’s body had already been sheeted up. The soldiers were clustered round the captain of the guard, admiring the cross.
‘And so what now, Ralph? Where will you go? What will you do?’
‘It’s almost the beginning of July. By the feast of St Mary Magdalene I will have left Ravenscroft.’
‘And the cross?’
‘On your goodness, Sir John, I would like an escort to Canterbury. I will hand it over to the Archbishop and pray in thanksgiving at the shrine of St Thomas a Becket.’
Sir John took the cross and ordered the archers to carry Adam’s corpse and that of the dead peasant back to Ravenscroft. They stood and watched the soldiers leave. Ralph was aware of Devil’s Spinney coming to life again. Only a pool of blood on the grass showed what had happened here. He stared across at the spot where he and Beatrice used to sit and felt a deep sadness. In his heart he knew a door had been bolted, locked and barred. Beatrice was gone. He would never come here again. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer that Cerdic the squire would understand what he had done.
‘I’ll miss you, Ralph.’ Sir John put the cross gently into his hands. ‘It’s true what the Scripture says: “The love of gold is the root of all evil”.’ He tapped the back of Ralph’s hand. ‘I can see this place has memories. I’ll wait for you on the heathland.’
Ralph watched the old Constable go. He would miss Sir John, Father Aylred and Theobald Vavasour. He vowed that he would spend the silver he had collected for his wedding day to feast them all before he left. He listened to a thrush singing its little heart out on the branches above him. He closed his eyes.
‘Beatrice!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘I loved you then, I love you now. I will love you always!’
Words Between the Pilgrims
The clerk picked up a jug and refilled his tankard. He hadn’t drunk much; now his throat was dry and he wanted to hide the tears stinging his eyes. The prioress was staring across at the man of law whom she had known in a previous life. He just sat rocking slightly backwards and forwards. Sir Godfrey Evesden also chose to hide his expression behind a wine cup though, as he lowered it, they could see his glint of amusement.
‘Isn’t it strange?’ Mine Host declared, nudging the customs officer, Geoffrey Chaucer, sitting beside him.
‘What’s strange?’ Chaucer queried.
‘How the pilgrims know each other.’
‘Were you at Ravenscroft?’ the summoner asked Sir Godfrey.
‘Why, yes, sir, I was,’ the Knight replied. ‘Both myself and the man of law, we were commissioned by his Grace the Regent.’ He smiled across at the clerk. ‘I only caught a fleeting glance of you. By the time we had set up our investigation and caught those responsible for the murder of Goodman Winthrop, you were long gone.’
‘So this is true?’ the wife of Bath squeaked, her cheeks bright with excitement. ‘Oh, sir, tell us it’s true!’
‘But how can it be?’ the pardoner asked. ‘We tell tales from the point of view of the living. Surely this is just a fiction, a fable to keep us worried and anxious at the dead of night with the mists swirling about and the forest creatures crying.’
‘What do you think, Sir Godfrey?’ the monk lisped. ‘I mean, sir, you did go to Ravenscroft.’
The knight gave him a cold-eyed stare.
‘I was there too,’ the man of law intervened, anxious to prevent a clash between these two old protagonists. ‘I’ve spoken to Father Aylred and Theobald Vavasour the physician.’
‘Sir.’ The poor priest edged forward, his hands out. ‘Why not say yea or nay to whether this is fable or not? Please!’ His soft eyes pleaded with the clerk, who flushed slightly at the summoner sniggering behind his hand.
‘I shall tell you,’ he replied softly. ‘But it is up to you whether you believe me or not.’
Chapter 6
Beatrice, full of curiosity, had followed Ralph from Ravenscroft that morning. She was pleased to see him returning to one of their old haunts in the company of Adam and Marisa. Nevertheless, when she looked behind her, she saw with horror that the Minstrel Man, with his ghastly steed and accompanied by Crispin and Clothilde, was trailing her. Moreover, the strange coppery light had taken on an eerie tinge and as Adam and Marisa walked, the early-morning sunlight turned their shadows a bloody red.
Brother Antony was sitting beneath an oak tree, hands joined as if in prayer.
‘What is happening?’ Beatrice called out.
‘I don’t know,’ that strange man replied. ‘But I sense the truth is about to be told. Beatrice, I beg you, stay near to Ralph. He is in great mortal danger.’
Beatrice watched her loved one play out his pantomime. She sat beside him, full of horror as the drama unfolded. She could not accept that Adam and Marisa were the cause of her death!
‘Do you feel vengeful?’ Brother Antony called out from where he still sat on the other side of the glade.
Beatrice looked at the gold cross in Ralph’s hand. It shimmered in a special light. She studied the two assassins. She felt nothing but a deep sadness for what they had done and sensed that their souls were in a devastating wilderness where only lust and greed prowled like two wild animals. She, too, became aware of Sir John’s men in the trees but was anxious lest Adam strike and help come too late. She was no longer concerned about herself. She kept moving in front of Ralph, willing, praying for his safety. She shouted for joy when the end came. She saw Adam fall, his throat pierced by an arrow. His soul had hardly left his body when those nightmare soldiers came tumbling out of the shadows to seize, bind then hustle him away. She followed Marisa’s flight through the woods and saw her former friend sink into the mire, beyond help by any power on either side of death. Beatrice watched her soul break free of the mire and surge up, only to be taken by the demons it had housed, and then it was all over. Ralph talked to Sir John and, later, alone in the glade, whispered her name. Beatrice was also aware of other phenomena. Brother Antony was standing near, the silver discs of light had appeared round him, larger, more vibrant. Golden, dazzling spheres also moved backwards and forwards across the glade.