‘Have you?’ Corbett declared. ‘Have you really? I don’t think any of you gentlemen have told the truth. You may not have told a lie, but. .’ He turned away, waving his hand in dismissal. ‘I may summon you again.’ He walked back behind the table. Even as Chanson ushered Staunton and the rest through the door, he could hear the justice’s protests and complaints. He slouched back in his chair.
‘There’s nothing, is there, master?’ Ranulf whispered, leaning over. ‘Nothing at all.’
‘Oh yes there is. Let’s question Brother Cuthbert and Adelicia.’
‘Together?’ Ranulf demanded.
‘Oh yes, together.’
Brother Cuthbert, garbed in his black Benedictine robe, shuffled in, Adelicia behind him. Corbett was immediately struck by how tall, purposeful and energetic the woman was. She was dressed in a dark blue gown like that of a nun, a veil about her head, her face almost hidden by the gleaming white coif beneath. She was graceful in all her movements. She smiled, bowed at Corbett and took her seat, helping Brother Cuthbert into his. The former parson of St Botulph’s sat down with a sigh, head slightly back, staring at Corbett from under heavy-lidded eyes.
‘You’ve taken the oath,’ Corbett began gently, ‘and now I want you to tell me the truth.’
‘But we have,’ Adelicia murmured. ‘We have spoken the truth. Sir Hugh, I have something else to tell you. Last night, or rather in the early hours of this morning, I was disturbed by a stranger who tapped on the shutters of my anker house.’ As she swiftly told Corbett what had happened, Ranulf’s pen raced across the surface of the parchment, taking down in his own neat cipher everything she said.
‘Do you think it was your brother?’ Corbett asked.
‘Sir Hugh.’ Adelicia brought her hands from beneath the folds of her gown, stretched across and put the jasper-stone ring on the table. ‘He gave me that. Last time I saw that ring was when I gave it to Evesham, who promised to hand it to my brother.’
‘And did he?’ Corbett asked.
‘Yes, he did,’ declared Brother Cuthbert. ‘I brought Boniface’s food. On one occasion I found him examining that ring. He’d slipped it on to his finger. Sir Hugh, it must have been him; Boniface Ippegrave must have escaped. Now he’s returned to wreak vengeance.’
‘One thing at a time. .’ Corbett paused at the tolling of a bell. He felt a slight thrill of excitement. Nothing was embedded in rock. Many of the stories he’d heard were lies, a twisting of the truth. Perhaps it was time to shake the edifice to reveal the sham.
‘Brother Cuthbert, on the night Evesham died, you would have us believe that everything was calm and serene, harmonious as ever.’
‘As well as it could be,’ Brother Cuthbert half joked.
‘Apparently, when you retired, Evesham was in his cell, its door closed and barred both inside and out. Ogadon your guard dog was resting at his post. Then a macabre miracle occurred. Someone managed to go through either a locked door or a barred shutter, then down the steps of that chapel. He or she did not disturb you, but persuaded Evesham to open the door of his chamber. The assassin followed Evesham in, cut his throat and left just as silently and mysteriously locking the door behind him.’ Corbett rested his elbows on the table. ‘Brother Cuthbert, Mistress Adelicia, you are good-hearted people, the evidence will support that. Nonetheless, if you think I believe such a fabulous story, then you insult me. It’s impossible.’
Adelicia glanced quickly at Brother Cuthbert, who just shook his head and stared down, fiddling with the cord of his robe.
‘I don’t believe you,’ Corbett declared, then paused because Ranulf, in his surprise, had dropped his quill. He busily picked up another, sharpening its point with a puzzled look at his master.
‘I believe you two love each other,’ Corbett continued softly. ‘You always have, you always will. Brother Cuthbert, when you were parson at St Botulph’s, you and Adelicia became hand-fast friends, two hearts united, two souls one. In other circumstances, in another place at another time, you would have become man and wife.’ He smiled sadly. ‘I understand that. There’s nothing in Scripture that says a priest cannot fall in love with a woman. Evesham shattered all that, didn’t he? He hounded Adelicia’s brother into oblivion, then he tortured both of you, not with pincers or hot irons but with allegations and accusations. I do wonder if in your hearts, both of you regard what happened at St Botulph’s twenty years ago as punishment for what you thought was an unchaste attraction.’
‘We were never lovers,’ Brother Cuthbert retorted, staring full at Corbett. ‘You have the truth. I have taken an oath. I am a celibate priest. I met Adelicia and we fell deeply in love. God knows what might have happened, though God knows what actually did. You’re correct, Master Clerk. Evesham shattered our lives. I truly believed it was God’s punishment on me.’
‘I argued against that,’ declared Adelicia. ‘I said it wasn’t possible. On reflection,’ she smiled thinly, colouring with embarrassment, ‘I know what you are thinking, clerk: just another priest with his leman, his mistress. We were never that. Nevertheless we loved each other as passionately as any man does his wife, or wife her husband.’
‘So,’ Corbett continued, ‘Brother Cuthbert, you left St Botulph’s and became a reclose at Syon Abbey. Adelicia, of course, after Boniface’s disappearance, decided that she had no choice but to follow. I would say before God that you’ve lived chaste lives, but as the years passed, I am sure that you often met under the cover of night, deep in those woods. Perhaps you’d take a flagon of wine, goblets. In cold weather a muffler with hot coals. You’d sit and talk about what was and what might have been, true?’
Cuthbert nodded.
‘And then,’ Corbett declared, ‘Evesham arrived at Syon Abbey; Satan re-entered your lives. The man who had wrecked everything was now your closest neighbour. Your midnight trysts occurred more often. On the night Evesham was murdered, you, Brother Cuthbert, left the death chapel and went to meet the only woman you have ever loved.’
Cuthbert put his face in his hands and began to sob quietly. Adelicia leaned over and caressed him on the shoulder, just a light touch yet it told Corbett everything.
‘What did happen?’ Ranulf asked sharply.
‘I left the chapel.’ Cuthbert lifted his tear-stained face. ‘I took a small wineskin, two cups. Adelicia was to bring some coals to warm our fingers. I wore a heavy cloak and cowl, mittens on my hands. There’s a log in the forest where we used to sit and stare up. We could study the night sky. You’re right, clerk, we used to talk about the past, about God’s will, about this and that, everything under the moon. On the night in question when I came back I found Ogadon fast asleep. I could tell by the way he was lying that he’d been fed some meat laced with a sleeping potion. I crossed the chapel and went down the steps. Evesham’s door was open; his body lay sprawled over his desk, blood everywhere. I never touched anything; I simply closed the door. I did not wish to alarm Adelicia, so I didn’t tell her what had happened until later.’
‘How did you lower the bar on the inside?’
‘Oh, simple enough. There’s a grille high in the wood. Those rods in the passageway? I simply threaded one through and pushed the bar down; the rest was as you found it. How did you know?’
‘Logic,’ Corbett replied. ‘How could anyone get past a guard dog, never disturb you, persuade Evesham to open his door, murder him then bar the door from the inside and leave without being noticed? Oh yes, it’s a puzzle that fascinated me, but there again, before you become locked in a mystery you look for the obvious way out, and that was the only solution. But you see,’ Corbett moved in the chair, ‘what I must consider is another possibility. On that night, Brother Cuthbert, did you invite Mistress Adelicia down to the cellars beneath that chapel and both of you murder a man who, by your own admission, had shattered your lives?’