‘Ah yes,’ Corbett interrupted. ‘I thought so. Perditus is Latin for “that which is lost”.’
‘Abbot Stephen laughed when I made my choice. I tell you this, clerk, despite the shaven heads around us, those years with my true father were the happiest of my life. Publicly I acted as his manservant, but in private we were truly father and son. He told me all about the marshes, the legends of Mandeville and how, as an impetuous young man he used to go out and blow his hunting horn.’
‘And so you did likewise?’
‘Yes.’ Perditus half laughed as if enjoying himself. ‘I never told Abbot Stephen but I think he suspected. I was so happy. I would have remained happy.’ Perditus’s face turned ugly. ‘Perhaps one day I would have been told the truth about my mother if it hadn’t been for that damnable Bloody Meadow and the greed of these monks! On spring and summer evenings, Abbot Stephen and I would often go out there to walk and talk. We thought we were safe. One night we heard the Judas Gate clatter and I knew we were being spied on.’
‘You hastened back,’ Corbett demanded. ‘You may be monkish in your studies and your singing but you are still an athletic young man.’
‘I climbed the wall, reached the Abbot’s lodgings and was there when our prying Prior came slithering along. The threats began soon afterwards. When Abbot Stephen took his own life, I hid my sorrow and turned to vengeance.’
‘To murder!’
‘No, clerk, I meted out justice. If I had my way I’d have burnt this abbey to the ground, not left one stone upon another. Gildas was first: a monk more at home in his workshop than his choir stall. I brained him, hid his body and, after dark, dragged it out and placed it on the burial mound as a warning to the rest. I went out onto the marshes. My father had hunted demons, but I called upon these same demons to help me.’
‘Why did you kill Taverner?’ Ranulf interrupted.
‘You heard him confess his subterfuge, didn’t you?’ Corbett said.
‘But I thought Perditus was helping Chanson in the library?’ Ranulf declared.
‘No, no, he was eavesdropping.’ Corbett winked at his henchman. ‘After Taverner confessed his trickery, Perditus, frightened of being caught, hastened back. He met Chanson coming from the library.’ Corbett glanced at his groom. ‘He offered to help you, didn’t he?’
‘Yes.’ The groom, in a reverie of astonishment at Corbett’s blatant lie, nodded quickly.
‘That’s the truth,’ Perditus remarked. ‘Why should that trickster escape? He planned to make a mockery of my father. Abbot Stephen had been so excited about his case. I took the fat Archdeacon’s bow and arrows from his quiver. This abbey is like a rabbit warren. Taverner came slipping through the morning mist and took an arrow straight through his heart.’
‘And then you branded him?’ Corbett demanded.
‘I wanted to put the fear of God into those mean-minded monks. I fashioned a branding iron. Gildas was the first and, when I was ready, I placed the same brand, the devil’s mark, on Taverner and Hamo. I was so excited about the sub-Prior’s death. I went into the kitchen with some powder from the infirmarian’s chest. I chose a tankard and slipped it in. It was like playing Hazard. I didn’t mind which one of these cowards drank the poison. All I knew was that one of them would die.’ Perditus shook his fist in Cuthbert’s direction. ‘I just hoped it wasn’t you. I wanted to save you to the last. I wanted you to experience the same fears and terrors my father did.’
‘And the librarian, Brother Francis?’ Corbett reminded him.
‘Ah, he was different. In a way I felt sorry for him. He was a member of the Concilium and had always been kind to me but he was dangerous. The day he died I went down into the library. I wondered if, perhaps, amongst the books Abbot Stephen borrowed, I might find further clues to my past. Brother Francis took me aside. He told me that he had been reflecting upon Abbot Stephen’s death. He wondered if it was suicide and claimed that Abbot Stephen must have had some great secret which perhaps could explain both his death and the bloody murders which followed. He questioned me closely. “Come on, Brother.” he urged. “You were not only Abbot Stephen’s manservant but also his friend.” I could see he was suspicious. I told him that I knew nothing, that I couldn’t help him. He still claimed the truth lay somewhere in that library.’
‘It was,’ Corbett interrupted. ‘I discovered a love poem that your father wrote as a farewell when he first entered the abbey.’
‘Did you?’ Perditus was now like a little boy. ‘Can I see it?’
‘Brother Francis?’ Corbett demanded.
‘Oh yes. He was kindly and studious but very much a busybody. I decided he should die quickly. He thought he was safe in the library but, during the day, I had loosened the shutter covering one of the arrow slit windows. That night, while the other monks were stuffing their faces, I took my bow and arrows and went towards the library. I rattled the shutter, removed it and strung my arrow. For a bowman, it was an easy target as Brother Francis had the light behind him. The rest you know.’ He grinned. ‘My eyesight’s better than I pretend.’
‘Didn’t you care?’ Brother Dunstan snarled.
‘Of course I cared, about my father. I would have taken you as well, you fat, lecherous monk! My father suspected your visits to the Lantern-in-the-Woods were not just on abbey business. Every day you should slump on your fat knees and thank God you are safe.’
Corbett glanced warningly at Ranulf. Perditus was enjoying himself. He hated these monks so much, he loved the taunting and the jibes describing how clever he was and the vengeance he had planned. But what would happen when it was all finished?
‘And the cat?’ Ranulf called out.
‘Oh, that was to emphasise the parallels with the Mandeville story,’ Perditus had now forgotten Dunstan. ‘I was sorry for the poor creature, but I had to test the powders I had taken from Aelfric. The cat died very quickly, and then I cut its throat, put it into a sack, with a hook tied to one of its legs by a piece of twine. The abbey church is full of shadows. I bided my time, slipped through the sacristry door and hung the cat up in the twinkling of an eye.’ He clapped his hands suddenly, making the monks jump. ‘You were all frightened, weren’t you?’
‘And the fire arrows?’
‘Again they came from the Mandeville story. I had to keep these monks on their toes. It was easy: a dish of burning charcoal and arrows dipped in tarred pitch. I slipped through the postern gate, knowing I would not be seen in the dead of night. I didn’t want anyone to forget. I didn’t want anyone to relax and think it was finished.’
‘That’s why you trapped us in the cellar, wasn’t it?’ Ranulf asked.
‘Yes,’ Perditus glanced sadly back. ‘I did warn you.’
‘Yes, you did,’ Corbett agreed. ‘You jammed the door to the Abbot’s lodgings that night. By the time I’d freed the wood and, as a new arrival at St Martin’s, found my way, you had left by a window. You were waiting for me behind that grille?’
‘I could tell, even then, you’d find the truth,’ Perditus sighed. ‘I didn’t really want to kill you but you moved fast, like a greyhound searching out its quarry, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.’
‘You could have killed us in the cellar?’
‘True and the King’s anger would have blazed out against the Abbey of St Martin’s,’ Perditus smiled at Prior Cuthbert. ‘It will never be the same now. Corbett is going to report to the King. Oh, our prince will keep it secret, to protect my father’s name and that of Lady Margaret!’ He smirked. ‘However, I don’t think he’ll forget you, Prior Cuthbert! Your ambition to succeed as Abbot will never be realised.’
‘At least I’ll be alive!’