‘And at St Botulph’s?’ asked Corbett. ‘What happened there, apart from Evesham cursing and shouting?’
‘He told us not to disperse but to guard the four doors, the main one, the corpse door, the Galilee porch on the north side and the sacristy door. We examined the windows in both the tower and the church itself; these were too narrow for any man to push himself through. We thought this was an ordinary case of sanctuary. The fugitive would stay there for forty days then either flee, give himself up or agree to be taken to the nearest port and sent to foreign parts, if he survived the walk.’ The old man ran a finger around his mouth and smacked his lips.
Corbett whispered to Ranulf, who rose, filled a wine cup and handed it over. Osbert smiled, raised it in a toast and took a deep gulp.
‘Evesham?’
‘Evesham and Engleat were like men possessed, and only then did we realise that the fugitive was such an important prisoner. The two of them went into the church. By then the priest had appeared, and he made it very clear that Boniface Ippegrave had taken sanctuary and that whilst he remained in the church, Evesham and Engleat must do nothing about it. Then. .’ Osbert turned and gestured at Sandewic, who snatched the wine cup from the former bailiff and finished the wine, smacking his lips and grinning at Corbett before taking up the story.
‘I was at the Tower. I received a message from Evesham that an important prisoner had fled for sanctuary, so I brought guards, some soldiers and archers as well as a few market beadles I collected on the way. Sir Hugh, we ringed that church. A mouse couldn’t leave. All four doors were carefully guarded. We even got ladders and put people on the roof. We inspected the tower, whilst the priest assured us that no secret passageway, crypt or cellar existed.’
‘And who approached the church?’
‘I think you know, Sir Hugh.’
‘Boniface’s sister?’
‘But she was refused entry,’ Sandewic replied.
‘Anyone else?’
‘Your two colleagues, Lord Staunton and Master Blandeford.’
By the sly grin on Sandewic’s face, Corbett could see that the constable had no love for either of them.
‘They also wanted to see Boniface, but Evesham was hot and choleric. He said it was none of their business and no one could see the prisoner. Apart from Evesham and Engleat, the only person allowed in was Parson Tunstall, who brought food or took out the jakes pot to be emptied. No one else entered. On the morning of the third day, Evesham followed the priest into the church, and they found that Boniface had disappeared. And to answer your next question, Sir Hugh, I don’t know how, when or why. I’ve never seen the likes before, a man vanishing off the face of God’s earth.’
‘You’re sure each door was guarded?’
‘Sir Hugh, the cemetery of St Botulph’s thronged with armed men. Evesham had sent letters to the King; by then royal men-at-arms and hobelars had joined us.’
‘It’s a sprawling cemetery, isn’t it?’ Corbett mused. He paused as Chanson slipped back through the door, nodded and sat down on his stool.
‘Yes, it is, but I repeat, no one left that church.’ Sandewic turned and watched Ranulf’s sharpened quill pen skimming across the creamy surface of the vellum.
‘Master Osbert,’ Corbett smiled, ‘I am very grateful for your attention to these matters. Is there anything else you can remember that might help solve this mystery?’
The old man shook his head.
‘Tell me, Sir Ralph,’ Corbett continued, ‘after the recent affray in Newgate, the escaped prisoners took refuge at St Botulph’s. Why did they choose that church?’
The constable blew his lips out. ‘Sir Hugh, I don’t know. One of the reasons people take sanctuary there is that it is strong as a castle. There are no secret entrances and it is well fortified and easy to defend, as we found to our cost.’
Corbett agreed and thanked both Sandewic and Osbert. He waited until the door closed behind them and then banged the table in exasperation.
‘Chanson,’ he raised his voice, ‘tell Lord Staunton, Master Blandeford and Lapwing I want words with them.’
A short while later all three entered. Staunton, gathering his cloak about him, brimmed with rage at being summoned back. Corbett ignored this, not even offering them a chair.
‘Sir Hugh, I thought we were finished?’
‘My lord, I am not finished. When I am finished I will tell you. I have now established,’ Corbett pointed at Lapwing, ‘that this clerk works for you, yes?’
Staunton nodded. Corbett glanced quickly at Lapwing, who stood confident and poised. Could he be a killer with his own private grievances? wondered Corbett.
‘Sir Hugh, what do you want with us?’ Staunton asked.
‘This is what I want,’ Corbett retorted. ‘Tell me about the night you surprised Evesham with Waldene and Hubert the Monk.’
‘As I said, we kept Lord Evesham’s house under close scrutiny. Waldene and the Monk were seen to enter. We simply watched and waited for another occasion when they entered, and then we followed.’
‘Were you admitted?’
‘No we forced the door. Master Blandeford drew his sword and demanded a servant take us immediately to Lord Walter. He did so. We found him in his chancery room with Waldene and the other rogue.’
‘And what happened then?’
‘Lord Evesham blustered and flustered, but there was little he could do. He was caught red-handed. The gold he held was stolen. He could not explain its presence there. Naturally he had no choice but to deny that the two rifflers had brought it.’
‘You say you caught him in his chancery room.’ Corbett rose to his feet. ‘And what happened then? The two riffler leaders were taken to Newgate — yes?’
Staunton, eyes watchful, nodded.
‘And Lord Walter?’
‘He was confined to his house until the King was informed, then he’d be taken to where his grace wished.’
‘So you left him there?’
‘Yes.’
‘His papers, his manuscripts, his household books, his secret memoranda, didn’t you seize them?’ Corbett glanced quickly at Blandeford, who swallowed nervously and refused to meet his gaze. Lapwing stood half smiling to himself. ‘Well?’ Corbett turned back to Staunton. ‘My lord, you had just arrested a Chief Justice of King’s Bench. He was consorting with well-known outlaws and wolfsheads. I can understand that he’d be confined to his own house under a strong guard, but surely the documents and memoranda, everything in that chamber, could have been of use to you? Why didn’t you seize them?’
‘We tried to, later.’
‘But not immediately?’
‘No, Sir Hugh, we did not.’
‘And what happened to all those documents and memoranda? Don’t tell me! Lord Evesham had a fireplace in his chancery room, not to mention braziers, and when you returned, everything had been burnt, yes?’
Staunton nodded. Corbett breathed out noisily.
‘Did you tell Evesham to burn all his manuscripts, his papers? An act of kindness by one judge to another? Or did the King himself give you such a commission? After all, the less scandal, the better.’
Staunton shrugged. ‘I cannot answer for the King, Sir Hugh, you must ask him yourself. We made a mistake, we thought it would be safe, and yes, when we returned, Evesham had burnt his manuscripts.’
‘You told the King?’
‘Of course. His grace simply said that it was a mistake. Evesham was still finished, his career destroyed. We had all the evidence we needed.’
Corbett nodded and walked over to Lapwing. ‘And you, sir?’ He tapped him on the chest. ‘You visited Newgate just before the riot broke out. Did you tell Waldene’s followers that Hubert the Monk might turn King’s evidence, or vice versa?’
Lapwing held Corbett’s gaze. ‘I’ve told the truth. I acted a part, nothing else.’
‘And when they did escape, those violent, desperate men, who told them to go to St Botulph’s?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps they could have answered that. However, Sir Hugh, you put them on trial and dispatched them to execution. I cannot answer for what their evil wits or nasty souls plotted. I’ve told the truth.’