Cranston grinned at the young lay brother. ‘Well done, Norbert, my son. If you ever leave Blackfriars, I can secure you a good post as a member of my guard.’
Athelstan sat still and let the coroner proceed for he felt sick at heart that here, in the great monastery of Blackfriars, he had to accuse a fellow friar of the murder of four of his brethren. Henry of Winchester sat back in his seat, his face white now, dark eyes staring like some trapped animal’s.
‘You are a liar!’ Cranston accused. ‘Because you made claims which are false. You are a thief because you stole the work of Hildegarde of Bremen, a Prussian abbess who lived one hundred and twenty years ago and wrote a brilliant treatise on why God became incarnate. An original, quite lucid treatise which was rejected at the time.’ Cranston grinned round at the other Dominicans. ‘Because it was not fashionable for women to speculate on the divine science of theology, her writings were buried, even destroyed. But you, Brother Henry, came across a copy. You took it, word for word, and proclaimed it as your own work. You thought you would escape detection. Very few copies of Hildegarde’s work remain. You came to Blackfriars to debate the issue with Brothers Niall and Peter whilst our friends in the Inquisition looked on.’
Cranston stood up. ‘You made one mistake. Brother Callixtus was not a theologian but, as my good friend Athelstan informed me, he did have a prodigious memory. You see, the library here at Blackfriars had a copy of Hildegarde’s work. Your treatise sparked a memory in Callixtus and he mentioned it to his good friend Alcuin.’ Cranston paused as Henry of Winchester leaned forward, jabbing a finger towards the coroner.
‘No theological treatise is original.’ He glanced quickly round at the others for confirmation. ‘I never said it was. How did I know that Callixtus knew anyone called Hildegarde?’
‘I can’t prove that,’ Cranston replied, ‘but Callixtus, like every human being, felt a twinge of jealousy. He must have mentioned the name Hildegarde to his good friend Alcuin, and I suggest one of them baited you with it.’ Cranston shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t take much. Just drop the name in your presence. A warning that they knew the full truth. Hence Callixtus’s enigmatic statement that the Inner Chapter was wasting its time. Of course it was, — debating a work written many years ago.’ He paused. ‘I suspect Alcuin was the first to bait you and so was summoned to the crypt below. But in the dark, you mistook Brother Bruno and sent him crashing to his death.’ Cranston shrugged. ‘Alcuin had to go so you waited for him in the church, no difficult feat. Callixtus went next, and then poor Roger. In the meantime, probably by watching Callixtus, you had found this original work and destroyed it. You made one mistake. The Dominicans at Oxford have copies of all the manuscripts here and so Athelstan sent for a replacement.’
‘Is this true?’ Father Prior interrupted, addressing the Inner Chapter to gain time in which to recover his wits. The rest were still gaping open-mouthed at the coroner. The prior opened the book and smoothed the pages out. ‘Master William de Conches,’ he called, ‘Eugenius, come here! You have studied Henry of Winchester’s work closely enough. Let me hear your judgement.’
The Inquisitors rose. Father Prior passed them the book and they stood in a corner of the room poring over the manuscript. The rest just sat, the accused glaring into middle distance though now and again his dark eyes darted baleful glances at Athelstan. At last William de Conches closed the book and laid it before Father Prior.
‘Brother Henry of Winchester,’ he announced, ‘may not be guilty of murder but he is certainly a thief and a liar who stole someone else’s work and proclaimed it his own.’
The young theologian smirked to himself.
‘What do you find so funny, Brother?’ Cranston purred.
‘I may have taken someone else’s work and developed it further.’
‘Nonsense!’ Eugenius interrupted, turning his back on Athelstan and glaring down the table. ‘You stole what was not yours. In the first page Hildegarde constructs the hypothesis argued by you. The same quotations from scripture. The same sayings of the fathers. You are a thief!’
Henry of Winchester lifted his hand. ‘I am not a murderer,’ he replied slowly. ‘You have no proof that I pushed Father Bruno down those steps. You have no proof that I pushed Callixtus from that ladder. You have no proof that I hanged that idiot Roger, and you certainly have no proof that I garrotted Brother Alcuin.’
‘You had the motive!’ Father Prior snapped, staring down at the book.
‘You are a murderer!’ Athelstan proclaimed loudly, rising to his feet. ‘And you have just confessed it.’
‘What do you mean?’
Athelstan smiled bleakly. ‘Everyone knew Father Bruno fell from the steps, that Callixtus fell from a ladder, that Roger was found hanging from a tree — but who told you Alcuin was garrotted?’
An angry hiss greeted Athelstan’s words.
‘Father Prior,’ he continued, ‘you are my witness. Did I announce that Alcuin had been garrotted? Did you, Sir John? Brother Norbert, you helped My Lord Coroner sheet Alcuin’s corpse — did you know?’
The lay brother shook his head.
‘That is correct!’ William de Conches exclaimed. ‘Brother Athelstan, Sir John, you actually claimed Alcuin was stabbed!’
Brothers Niall and Peter murmured in unison. Sir John Cranston clapped his hands.
‘Dear Brothers,’ he announced with a self-satisfied smirk, ‘my clerk has it right. You were all shocked by the discovery of Alcuin’s corpse. It was apparent he was dead, obvious he had been murdered. Indeed, on my orders, Brother Athelstan claimed Alcuin had been struck by a dagger.’
Henry of Winchester leaned forward, his eyes darting round the assembled company. He licked his lips.
‘Surely you told us, Sir John? Anyway, I saw the corpse.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Father Prior said quietly. ‘The lid of poor Brother Bruno’s coffin was taken off. The terrible stench drove us all away to the other side of the altar. Alcuin’s corpse was immediately sheeted, coffined and taken to the death house. Is that not true, Brother Norbert?’
The young lay brother who had been watching, a look of stupefied amazement on his face, just grunted his reply.
‘Enough is enough!’ Cranston grated. ‘Brother Henry of Winchester, I accuse you of the murder of four of your brothers!’
‘Wait!’ William de Conches raised his hand. ‘Brother Henry is a member of the Dominican Order. Father Prior, I understand that Sir John may very well put him on trial, but in England if an accused man pleads benefit of clergy he can escape the secular courts. Brother Henry should return with us. The Court of the Inquisition answers to God alone!’
Cranston looked at Athelstan who nodded and looked pityingly towards Henry of Winchester. The disgraced friar now sat with his hands covering his face.
‘Let him be bound,’ Eugenius added quietly.
Father Prior looked as if he was going to protest but then waved his hand. ‘Yes, take him,’ he said. ‘Take him now. Be out of Blackfriars first thing tomorrow morning.’
The two Inquisitors rose and hustled Henry of Winchester through the door, Father Prior telling Brother Norbert to go with them. Peter and Niall followed quickly afterwards, still shocked at the revelations. They nodded at Athelstan and murmured a speedy farewell. Father Prior just sat, hands on either side of the book, head bowed, tears running down his cheeks. Cranston, now the drama was over, coughed self-consciously and went to look out of the window as if intent on the distant activities of the monastery. There was a rap on the door and Brother William de Conches re-entered. He stood staring at Athelstan.
‘I am sorry,’ he murmured.
‘For what?’
The Master Inquisitor shrugged. ‘We were wrong. You are a good priest, Athelstan, a fine Dominican.’ He smiled thinly. ‘You would have made an excellent Master Inquisitor.’ He bowed, and before Athelstan could answer, closed the door gently behind him.