‘Yes. He has reached the safety of the altar. You will not take him from here, not for the requisite forty days. He is as safe and inviolable as a new-born innocent babe. Let him free!’
‘Father, he is a murderer,’ Sir Richard repeated.
It was Roger who shook his head and muttered, ‘We have no rights in here, Sir Richard. Master Simon, we should leave this place. The law as you know it has no effect once you enter the doors.’
Sir Baldwin was cool as he took Sir Richard’s arm. ‘Come, Sir Richard. There is no more for us to do in here. You are a coroner, though, and you can enforce the laws as they apply.’
The coroner nodded. He reluctantly allowed his grip on Osbert to relax. ‘Do you have a weapon about you? Answer quickly!’
Osbert licked his lips. He had wanted to keep at least one knife about him, but it was correct that if he wished to remain safe, he must adhere to the law. He pulled his knife from within his robe and gave it to the coroner.
‘Right, you dishonourable and dishonest felon, you have the right to remain here for forty days and nights. After that time, I can come in to fetch you. You will either have to leave of your own free will, which means surrendering to the full weight of the law, or you will have to agree to abjure the realm. You understand? Either hang, or run to exile. There’s nothing else for you.’
Osbert nodded grimly. But in forty days, even the most observant guards could fail in their duties. It was likely that he would be able to escape in ten days or so. The coroner and his friends would not remain here all that time.
‘In the meantime,’ Baldwin said, and bent down, ‘you will not be permitted to profit by your theft.’
‘No!’ Osbert shouted, but he dared not relinquish his grip on the altar cloth, and could only look on in horror as Baldwin pulled the casket away from him.
‘All those murdered people, and all for a few pennies that you cannot even hold on to,’ he said. ‘I hope you feel it was worthwhile.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jacobstowe
Mark watched them go, Father James walking with them, and felt a strange bubbling resentment deep in his breast.
This man was safe now, secure and protected with the full strength of the Church behind him. No man might touch him, unless he was captured outside the church, and then, if he was molested, his attacker would be guilty of a serious offence, just as a man who tried to drag him from the church would be. A man who committed such a desecration of the church could expect to be hanged.
‘Bring me water, monk. I’m thirsty.’
Mark allowed a fleeting frown to pass over his face. ‘Perhaps you should fetch it yourself.’
‘I am your guest here,’ Osbert said.
‘No. You are the guest of Father James. He is gone to ensure that the money you stole is safe.’
The dig struck home. A cloud settled on Osbert’s features. ‘After all that effort and trouble, to lose it all here is enough to make a man turn to the Church. What do you think? Is there a church I could go to for a job? Perhaps a lay brother’s position in Tavistock, eh? That’d be good. You and me, we could sit and chat. Talk about the fun we’ve had in the last week or so, eh? You looking for me, and me hiding from you. Oh, so you’re back?’
Mark turned to find that Roger had returned inside. ‘I am here to make sure you don’t try to run.’
‘You think you could stop me?’ Osbert sneered.
Mark pressed him. ‘Why did you kill Anselm? He was never a threat to you, was he?’
‘Him? He was a fool. Jesus! You’d have thought the cretin would have realised that bringing a puppy might just make for problems in the future, wouldn’t you? How would he think to look after it?’
‘And that was why you killed him? Not so you could take his share?’
‘Look, he wanted to join me. It was Basil’s idea in the first place, to get one of the monks on our side, and Anselm was the easiest man to pick. He was bored stupid with his companions in any case. Did you know that? He was perfectly happy to sell them to us. That was before he knew he was going with the money, of course. It was easy to persuade him, letting him come and help me take the money.’
Mark was revolted. ‘So he wanted to share the money? That was all?’
‘Yes. For so much coin, most men will forget their morals. He was happy to see all those folk die in exchange for his share. I killed the only guard, and he helped me to carry the money out of the camp. Then …’ He paused. ‘Then I helped him take it away and hide it, and I went back to see that there was no alarm. Easy.’
‘And the dogs?’ Roger had been silent for so long, Osbert seemed surprised to hear him.
‘What of the dogs? I didn’t want them raising the alarm.’
‘It seemed unnecessary to kill them. Just like the murder of the children.’
Osbert looked at him blankly. ‘They were only dogs.’
Roger nodded. ‘Brother, you remain if you must, but I cannot share the same room as this dunghill rat. He makes me want to puke.’
Mark wanted to speak, but found he couldn’t. His mouth was too dry. There was no mistaking the revulsion in Roger’s eyes as he turned and left the church, and Mark felt much the same. Anselm had very likely done as Osbert had said. The poor fellow had entered the Church when he was young, and it would be no surprise that a man, even a monk, would be willing to commit a crime for such wealth. Split two ways, his share of a hundred pounds would be two years’ income for even a well-paid man. It was a staggering sum for one used to no possessions whatever.
‘There is one thing, of course,’ Osbert said in a sly tone. ‘Now I’ve nothing. But the man who’d help me escape from here could share in the money with me. A full fifty pounds, maybe more, would be his share. Just think of that.’
Mark did think, but not of the money. Instead he was remembering Anselm, the cheerful, joking, ironic monk who had lightened the atmosphere of the abbey so often. It was hard to believe that he was actually dead. Somehow Mark had hoped that he had survived the attack when his body hadn’t been found with Pietro’s. That this man had killed him, after he had perverted him from his brothers, was repugnant.
‘Fifty pounds.’
Osbert looked up. ‘It’s a lot of money. It was enough to tempt your brother.’
‘My brother? But you killed Anselm, didn’t you?’
‘He wanted to run away from me. He was dangerous to me as well as to himself. All I did was hasten his end by a very little while. And he didn’t suffer. I killed him quickly.’
‘So you might do that to me, too.’
‘I’ll swear here and now, as I believe in Jesus and in God, that I will not kill you or hurt you if you help me escape.’
Mark thought hard, and his gaze went from Osbert to the door open behind him. The money was vast. A man could live like a lord on fifty pounds.
In his scrip was the little enamelled green crucifix that Pietro had worn. He drew it out now, and studied it. It was so pretty, he thought it should never have been worn by a monk. Clearly the brothers in foreign abbeys took their vows of poverty less seriously than did the English.
‘Where did you get that?’ Osbert said sharply.
‘I found it under a bush near the glade where you killed all the travellers.’
‘It was taken by Anselm. I threw it away. I didn’t want him stealing from the others.’
Mark frowned. ‘He took it? But you said that he was gone with the money when you returned.’
‘Aye. And then I went back to-’
‘So how did he take this from Pietro? If Pietro was asleep, having a man take his crucifix would waken him.’