Edward laughed softly. ‘You have it! A merchant, Adam Chauntoys: his wife Alice was attacked and killed in the street, the letter “M” carved on her brow. Master Chauntoys, who has now gone to his eternal reward, was, of course, absent. Witnesses could swear that he was with the Merchants of the Staple in Southampton. Rumours flew thick and fast that his wife had been entertaining young gallants while her husband was abroad. Some of these gallants were married or betrothed, so Alice had a list of enemies who would be only too eager to see her dead. Her husband, of course, acted the innocent cuckold whilst he planned his revenge.
‘Evesham reasoned that if Adam was the Mysterium’s accomplice, he would certainly not pay until he returned to London and viewed his wife’s corpse in the coroner’s court, so he decided to take a gamble.When Chauntoys arrived back from Southampton, Evesham kept him under very close scrutiny. He and his servant Ignacio Engleat asked for a comitatus of bailiffs to be ready at their beck and call, then they dogged Chauntoys’ footsteps at every twist and turn, following the soi-disant grieving widower as he journeyed around London. Four days after his return, Chauntoys broke from his usual horarium, the daily routine he’d set himself. Cloaked and cowled, he crossed London Bridge to Southwark, but not before visiting a goldsmith in Cheapside. Evesham believed the hunt was now on. Most of the bailiffs went secretly across the river by barge; Evesham, Engleat and the rest followed Chauntoys to a spacious tavern, the Liber Albus, near the Priory of St Mary Overy. Evesham had the tavern ringed and went in. Chauntoys sat at a small closet table. Someone else was also there: Boniface Ippegrave. You remember him, Corbett?’
‘A clerk in the Office of the Privy Seal. A lawyer, a bachelor of Gascon descent. Rumour had it that he was the Mysterium, but he was never brought to trial. He disappeared — yes?’
‘The same,’ Edward agreed. ‘Anyway, on that fateful day, Evesham decided to act. The rest of the bailiffs entered the tavern and arrested both men. Now, no business had taken place, but Chauntoys could not explain why he was carrying two hundred pounds in pure gold, nor could he explain the scrap of parchment with the date, time and place along with a message telling him to leave the “mystery” on the window ledge of the closet table he’d chosen. For his part Ippegrave, a chancery clerk, could not account for why he should appear at such a tavern armed with sword and dagger. He protested his innocence, declaring that the only reason he’d come to the Liber Albus was because Chauntoys had sent him a message demanding to see him there an hour after the Angelus, for a most urgent matter affecting the King and to the great profit of Ippegrave himself. Chauntoys denied sending any such message. He claimed it wasn’t in his hand, though to be true, London does have a thousand scribes for hire.’
‘So why was Chauntoys there?’
‘He claimed he’d come to meet a Flemish merchant over some negotiations for wool. Both he and Ippegrave were arrested and intended for Newgate. However, once they reached the city, Ippegrave, still protesting his innocence, slipped his guard and fled. The hue and cry were raised and he was pursued, but he raced through the streets and alleyways to take sanctuary in St Botulph’s Cripplegate.’
‘The same church. .?’ Ranulf queried.
‘The same church you had to assault earlier today.’ The King shrugged. ‘Today, yesterday,’ he sighed, ‘all days seem to merge into one, but that’s just the passing of the years.’
‘Your memory,’ Staunton flattered, ‘is as sharp as ever.’
‘I wish to God it was,’ Edward snapped. ‘Yet when I visited the chancery and read the records in the archives of the Secret Seal, everything did come back as if it happened yesterday.’ He pulled himself up, leaning his elbows on the table.
‘You said you’d begin with the conclusion,’ Corbett queried. ‘How did Evesham discover the Mysterium’s method?’
‘Evesham was cunning,’ Edward replied ‘Chauntoys was later offered a pardon, and in return for this and a heavy fine, he confessed everything. He did not know the Mysterium, but he had hired the assassin to kill his wife. From him,’ Edward rapped the table, ‘and only from him, did Evesham learn the Mysterium’s subtle craft of murder: the messages, the great hoarding at St Paul’s and the method of payment.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Nothing. Chauntoys was released under heavy bail, but that came much later. At the time, Ippegrave’s caskets in his lodgings at Cripplegate and the chancery were searched by a trusted clerk. More gold than he should have had was found, as well as scraps of manuscript, tags and bits of parchment bearing the names of former victims, a crude map showing where they had been found and references to the great hoarding board at St Paul’s.’ The King paused to drink. ‘Ippegrave, sheltering in St Botulph’s, was confronted with all this. He could not, or would not, explain the gold or the parchment scraps. He still protested his innocence. Evesham was hot against him. He wanted Ippegrave to be brought to trial. Ambitious and arrogant, he was determined that such a trial would be a public manifestation of his genius and skill.’
‘And you, your grace?’ Corbett voice was tinged with amusement. Edward hated public show unless it was to illustrate his own glory and magnificence.
‘True, true,’ the King agreed, ‘I was not too eager. I did not wish the scandal whilst I could use the information for my own secret purposes. Believe me, Corbett, I did. Chauntoys babbled like a bairn. Many powerful lords in London were told what I had uncovered. I bluffed, I embroidered my discoveries. These city princes were advised to show their gratitude for the Crown’s forbearance and mercy in many ways. Evesham had achieved a great victory. The capture of the Mysterium by a royal clerk only enhanced the power and influence of the Crown. But,’ Edward smiled, ‘that came much later, after Ippegrave’s disappearance. At the time, Evesham was determined that St Botulph’s be closely guarded. City bailiffs and men-at-arms from the Tower camped outside. Evesham and Engleat tried to persuade Ippegrave to make a full confession. So did you.’ The King turned abruptly to Staunton and Blandeford. ‘Were you not friends with Ippegrave?’
‘Your grace,’ Staunton blustered, ‘we never tried to hide that. We were as surprised as any by his capture, as were you, your grace, and Chancellor Burnell. Remember, sire, Evesham was intent on garnering all the glory. He would not even allow us into the church.’
‘True.’ The King darted a warning look at Corbett. ‘And that’s a further problem.’ He wiped his fingers on a napkin. ‘Boniface’s possessions were searched and he was confronted with the evidence but could provide no satisfactory explanation. If he’d gone on trial, he would certainly have been found guilty.’
‘But he disappeared?’ Corbett declared.
‘Yes, and that lies at the heart of this mystery,’ Edward replied. ‘St Botulph’s was closely guarded, every door, portal and window, but Boniface Ippegrave vanished from the face of the earth. London was scoured. Sheriffs, port-reeves and bailiffs alerted.’
‘And Evesham?’
‘He was beside himself with rage,’ the King murmured. ‘He was furious. He ordered his guards to search that church, every nook and cranny, every crevice, every aperture; nothing was left undisturbed. St Botulph’s has no crypt. Evesham went up the tower, even on to the roof, yet from that day to this, nothing.’ Edward paused and drank noisily from his goblet.