‘You are certain of that?’ he demanded. ‘No bitter rivalry, no blood feuds?’
‘Not that I know of. Abbot Stephen walked quietly, talked quietly but carried a big stick. He was gentle but very, very firm. In this abbey his word was law.’
‘And his relationship with the Concilium? When you were pretending to be Mandeville, you said Abbot Stephen’s blood was on their hands!’
‘I was pretending.’
‘Were you?’ Corbett insisted. ‘Or do you think the resentment over Bloody Meadow might have boiled over into something worse?’
Taverner pulled a face.
‘From what I understand, they were certainly in fear and awe of him.’
‘Except over Bloody Meadow?’
‘The Abbot referred to that. I asked him once why he didn’t agree to their demands. “It’s a sacred place,” he replied. “It contains a tomb of a royal martyr who should be left in peace”.’
‘Was there anything else?’ Corbett demanded.
‘The Abbot seemed to like that lay brother, Perditus. I often saw them in deep conversation with each other.’
‘About what?’
‘Oh, the Abbot was a busy man. I think he found it easy to talk to Perditus. No wonder the other monks called him “the Abbot’s shadow”.’
‘Could Perditus have murdered the Abbot?’
‘No.’
‘How are you so sure?’
‘The morning Abbot Stephen was found murdered, I came across here, very early before dawn, as I often did. The Abbot liked to talk to me. I waited outside Perditus’s chamber. He woke up and let me stay in his room.’ Taverner tapped the side of his nose. ‘I know people, clerk, and I’d go on oath: Perditus worshipped his Abbot and, when I met him that morning, he was not upset or disturbed. Of course, all that changed when he failed to rouse Abbot Stephen.’
‘Did Perditus become agitated?’
‘At first, no. Abbot Stephen often worked late. He sometimes missed attending Divine Office, which he read in his own room.’
‘And you never left Perditus that morning?’
‘Never. Another monk came to see what was wrong: that’s when the alarm was raised. I was present when they forced the door. We all stood shocked, surprised. Perditus went to the Abbot’s chair, fell on his knees, put his face in his hands and began to sob. I have never seen a man cry like that before.’
‘You are keen eyed,’ Corbett murmured. ‘Did you see anything untoward in that chamber?’
‘Oh, I looked round immediately. I know every trick and sleight of hand. Yet, that door was locked and the windows secure. I noticed the Abbot’s war belt was lying on the floor. He must have taken it from his chest near the wall.’
‘Did Perditus ever talk to you?’
‘Sometimes. He liked me to read to him: his eyesight is not too good.’
‘And the other brothers?’
Taverner rocked backwards and forwards on the bed.
‘Many of them are former soldiers or clerks in the royal service.’ He grinned impishly at Ranulf. ‘Perhaps that’s how you will end your career?’
‘The other brothers?’ Corbett insisted.
‘Perhaps I am wrong, Sir Hugh. Perhaps there were rancourous feelings? Sometimes I overheard them talking, and it is true they were becoming increasingly angry with the Abbot’s refusal to build a guesthouse in Bloody Meadow. He fended them off, claiming the place was a sacred site. Of course, Lady Margaret Harcourt disputed the ownership of Falcon Brook, not that I could see why.’
‘What do you mean?’ Corbett asked.
‘Well, it’s only a rivulet. It’s not stocked with fat carp or salmon. For God’s sake, Sir Hugh, these are the fens! One thing this place is not short of is water!’
‘And who was the prime mover behind the plans for a guesthouse?’
‘Oh, certainly Prior Cuthbert. As the weeks passed I often wondered whether he wanted to be Father Abbot. He certainly had support from some of the others. Gildas, the one who was killed, his fingers positively itched to cut the ground and lay the first stone.’
‘And did Abbot Stephen ever talk to you? Discuss the past? Come on!’ Corbett urged. ‘You’ll be well rewarded, Master Taverner.’
The cunning man picked up the wine goblet and drank swiftly.
‘On occasions, Abbot Stephen talked as if I wasn’t there. He once said that everyone had demons, either in the present or from the past and, unless reparation was made, these demons would harass him: his face grew sad and tears pricked his eyes.’
‘Did Abbot Stephen elaborate?’
‘I teased him. I asked if a holy abbot could also be guilty of sin? “Some sins remain.” The Abbot replied. “And I am always fearful of the sin against the Holy Ghost”.’
‘Did he tell you what that was?’
Taverner shook his head. ‘He just said his life was a wheeclass="underline" that what happened at the hub, or the centre, stretched out its spokes to affect the rim and all within it. Strange thing to say, wasn’t it, Sir Hugh?’
‘Do you think he had any secrets?’
Taverner looked at Corbett slyly from under his eyebrows.
‘He liked all things Roman.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘He showed me his secret.’
‘Secret?’
‘Yes, yes, come with me!’
Corbett got to his feet and went to the door. He’d been sure someone was outside but, when he opened it, the small entrance hallway was empty and the door to the abbey grounds was half open, through which a cold draught seeped. Ranulf joined him.
‘Our cunning man is searching for his sandals.’
Corbett gripped Ranulf by the arm.
‘That was very good, Ranulf. A memory worthy of a royal clerk! If it hadn’t been for you, Taverner would have fooled me as he did the Abbot and Archdeacon Adrian.’
Ranulf coloured with embarrassment.
‘I am sorry about last night, Master.’
Corbett linked his arm through Ranulf’s and they went out of the doorway into the grounds. The heavy mist was now clearing, and a weak sun making its presence felt: a sharp breeze had sprung up, sending the leaves whirling. Corbett stood and revelled in the silence. He was aware of the grey abbey buildings. Now and again a figure moved through the mist. He faintly heard the neigh of a horse and, on the morning breeze, the melodious chant from the church. He caught the words: ‘The Lord will rescue me from the huntsmen’s nets’. Corbett released Ranulf’s arm. But who is the huntsman here, he wondered? How could he find his way through the thick, treacherous mysteries which shrouded these heinous murders? A sound echoed behind him. Taverner came out, clasping a cloak.
‘Come with me! Come with me!’
They went down the side of the infirmary and almost bumped into Chanson who, helped by Perditus, was carrying some books.
‘Brother Aelfric sent these,’ Chanson gasped.
‘We don’t need them now,’ Corbett declared. ‘Master Taverner has other things to show us. Chanson, Brother Perditus, I would be grateful if you would take the books to my chamber in the guesthouse.’
He walked by them. Taverner was trotting ahead, beckoning them to follow as if they were playing some childish game. They crossed the empty cloisters, going past the main door of the abbey church and towards the refectory: a long, oblong building of grey ragstone with a red tiled roof. Taverner led them down the outside steps and pushed open the door. They stepped into a hollow, cavernous chamber. Taverner took a tinder and lit a sconce torch. Corbett realised they were in the cellars of the abbey. There was a long, dark gallery with open store chambers on one side which contained tuns of wine, sacks of grain, boxes of fruits and vegetables, some now shrivelled as winter approached. The air was flavoured with different fragrances and smells. Taverner hurried on, pausing now and again to light a sconce torch. Corbett felt as if he was in the underworld. He was aware of the passageway stretching before him, the hard cobbled ground and the yawning chambers to his left. At last they reached the end and went down some steps. Taverner pushed open a door and they stepped into a chamber. Corbett was aware of barrels and pallets of wood, shelves with pots on. One corner was completely empty except for a canvas cloth stretched over the ground. Taverner lit another sconce torch and pulled away the sheeting. At first Corbett couldn’t understand what it was until he grasped the torch and knelt down.