He paused at the sound of a sob. Perditus sat, head down, hands in his lap, shoulders shaking.
‘Abbot Stephen would have resisted. There would have been shouts, noise, tumult. Brother Perditus, I am sorry for your grief but are you a light sleeper?’
‘I would have heard such a commotion!’
Corbett shifted in his chair; he glanced at Ranulf who was making notes, using the cipher Corbett had taught him.
‘Let’s be honest,’ he said. ‘I do not want to put you on oath but did Abbot Stephen have any enemies in the community?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Brother Richard answered swiftly. ‘He was our Father Abbot. He was severe but he could also be gentle and kind, a true scholar, a holy man.’ He glared at his companions.
‘Brother Richard speaks the truth,’ Prior Cuthbert declared.
‘But come, in a community such as this there are always jealousies, rivalries. .?’
‘Father Abbot was above such rivalries, Sir Hugh.’
‘Are you accusing one of us?’ The sub-prior demanded. ‘Sir Hugh, there are other monks in this community?’
‘Brother Hamo, I thought you would never ask that.
You are here for three reasons. First, you are all members of the Concilium. You had direct dealings with the Abbot, whilst the other brothers did not. Secondly, I understand you all have your own bed-chambers? So, if you went missing during the night, it would not be noticed, as it would in the cells and dormitories of the other monks. Finally,’ Corbett continued remorselessly, ‘the Abbot’s quarters are approached by a staircase. The door to the outside courtyard is always locked at night. Brother Perditus, I believe that was your responsibility?’
The lay brother nodded.
‘The only people who have keys to that door are the Abbot’s manservant and members of the Concilium.’
‘So, you are accusing one of us?’ the Prior demanded.
‘I am not accusing anyone. I am simply answering your sub-prior’s question. So, let’s return to your relationship with the Father Abbot. There was no disagreement?’
Brother Richard the almoner now became agitated. He was glaring along the table at Prior Cuthbert.
‘There was something, wasn’t there, Brother Richard? Please, tell me!’
‘There is no need to,’ the Prior declared. ‘We had one disagreement with Father Abbot. We own a field called Bloody Meadow, which has a tumulus or burial mound in the centre. According to local lore, many centuries ago, one of the first Christian Kings, Sigbert, was martyred and buried there. We, the members of the Concilium, believed the meadow would have been an ideal site for an enlarged guesthouse. Abbot Stephen disagreed. He said the meadow and the burial mound were sacred and should not be disturbed.’
Corbett studied the Prior closely. You speak so quickly, he thought, as if it was a minor matter. Yet I suspect it was very important to you but would it lead to murder? He glanced sideways, to where Archdeacon Adrian Wallasby sat bored, picking at his teeth.
‘And you?’ Corbett pointed to him. ‘You had been in the abbey days before the murder took place? You met with Abbot Stephen? He gave you a key to his lodgings?’
Archdeacon Adrian was no longer bored. He scratched his cheek nervously.
‘Abbot Stephen was well known as an exorcist,’ Wallasby replied. ‘He carried out exorcisms both here and in London witnessed by scholars and theologians.’ He paused, choosing his words carefully. ‘As you know, Sir Hugh, the Dominican Order are the papal inquisitors. They are used to root out heresy and magic. Many Dominicans now agree with me: the so-called possessed are either sick in their souls, counterfeit or simply madcaps.’
‘And Abbot Stephen challenged that?’
‘The challenge was scholarly, an exchange of letters. A few weeks ago Abbot Stephen wrote to me about a man called Taverner who had come to St Martin’s asking for his help. Taverner claims that he is possessed by the demon spirit of Geoffrey Mandeville.’
Corbett started in surprise.
‘The robber baron who plagued this area?’
‘The same.’
‘And how does Taverner express this?’ Ranulf asked curiously.
‘I have questioned him,’ Prior Cuthbert replied. ‘He is a man of no learning but he can lapse into Norman French or Latin. He also seems to know a great deal about Mandeville’s life. He is, in fact, two people in one.’
‘This man I must meet,’ Corbett declared. ‘Is he safe?’
‘He’s kept in a chamber near the infirmary,’ Prior Cuthbert declared. ‘He is given good lodgings, food and drink. Abbot Stephen was particularly interested in him.’
‘And what do you think?’ Corbett asked.
The Prior pulled a face. ‘Sir Hugh, I am a Benedictine monk, I have my duties and tasks.’
‘So, you don’t see the devil peeping round corners or hiding in the shadows?’
‘Neither did Father Abbot.’ Perditus had lost his nervousness. He was hard-faced and defiant. ‘Father Abbot didn’t see demons and imps lurking in trees or hiding in pools. He truly believed that demons were lords of the air and were given the authority to enter certain people.’
‘Abbot Stephen doesn’t need your defence,’ Cuthbert snapped. ‘The gospels talk of demons. Didn’t the Gadarene claim to have a legion of devils possessing him?’
Corbett pointed at the Archdeacon.
‘And what were your thoughts on Taverner?’
‘A remarkable case.’ The Archdeacon rubbed his hands together. ‘Sir Hugh, in London I have met counterfeit men, cunning deceivers, but I must admit Taverner half convinced me.’
‘Half convinced?’
‘I don’t deny the existence of Satan and his legions,’ the Archdeacon simpered. ‘It’s just that I don’t accept they have power to interfere in our lives. After all, human will can perpetrate enough wickedness without those our learned lay brother calls lords of the air. My discussions with Abbot Stephen were over the writings of the Fathers such as Ambrose and Augustine. Yet it is rather strange,’ he mused.
‘What?’ Corbett demanded.
‘The sorcerers and necromancers, those who study the Kabbala, believe in powerful spells and incantations. Sir Hugh, have you heard about the College of the Invisibles?’
Corbett shook his head.
‘It’s a belief that a sorcerer, by certain spells, can make himself invisible for a matter of hours and pass through matter such as wood and stone.’
Corbett caught his meaning.
‘You are referring to the murder of Abbot Stephen?’
‘I have listened to you carefully, Sir Hugh. How else, except through the black arts, could the Abbot be stabbed to death in his own chamber? The door at the foot of the stairs was unlocked, the lay brother Perditus heard no one come up. The Abbot’s windows and doors were firmly closed. There are no secret passageways. There appears to have been no struggle yet our Abbot was found murdered. I wonder-’
Corbett interrupted. ‘Before we move to matters celestial, to quote you, Archdeacon Adrian, the human will can perpetrate evil enough.’
‘But it’s still a mystery,’ the Archdeacon insisted.
Corbett beat his fingers on the table.
‘For the moment it is. Tell me, Prior Cuthbert, did anything extraordinary happen, in or around the abbey, in the days preceding Abbot Stephen’s death?’
‘Our abbey is a place of calm and harmony, Sir Hugh. Beyond the walls, however, you’ve seen the countryside; marshes, swamps, fields, thick copses of woods. Outlaws such as Scaribrick prowl there.’
‘But they are no threat to the abbey?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘And Lady Margaret Harcourt?’
‘The dislike between her and the Abbot was well known. They never met or corresponded.’
‘Falcon Brook,’ Dunstan the treasurer intervened. He saw Corbett’s look of surprise. ‘Falcon Brook,’ he explained, ‘is a stream which runs at the foot of Bloody Meadow. Lady Margaret and our Father Abbot disputed its true ownership.’
‘But I managed the dispute,’ Prior Cuthbert intervened. ‘That’s how Father Abbot wanted it.’