The Butcher of Avignon (27 page)

‘Who is the cardinal on close terms with here?’ Edmund looked at Hildegard. ‘Could he have let slip a word to someone about his desire to obtain it?’

Hildegard thought immediately of Athanasius. He and Grizac had a strange relationship. It was based on power with Athanasius’s quick, cynical wit often making the more tender-hearted Grizac wince. She couldn’t see him confessing anything to Athanasius.

‘What about Taillefer?’ she asked. ‘Where do you think he fits in?’

‘Obviously he was stabbed for stealing the dagger from the stranger in
le Coq d’or.’

The boys fell silent at Edmund’s words until Peterkin made the observation that if Taillefer was stabbed when he was on the bridge, the sentry must have seen him run past, followed by the man who stabbed him. ‘But you say he did not mention seeing them?’

Hildegard shook her head. ‘In fact he said he saw no-one. The inn keeper also says he saw no blood on the stranger’s hands - although of course he could have easily washed it off in the river.’

‘You mean Taillefer could have been stabbed by someone else - someone already up there?’

‘It would have to be somebody in authority,’ broke in Peterkin, ‘those sentries are particular about who they allow to cross at night, for fear of French militia mounting an attack, or smugglers cheating on taxes.’

‘Someone in authority? Like the cardinals?’ broke in Edmund.

‘The cardinals?’ exclaimed Peterkin in a horrified voice.

A brief silence followed.

‘Maybe we have to ask ourselves who would have as strong a motive to kill Taillefer as the victim of the theft,’ Bertram pointed out.

‘But let’s suppose that if the dagger was stolen the first time round on Cardinal Grizac’s orders - for whatever reason - it was he who was the true victim of the theft. He would want it back as much as the stranger at
le Coq d’or,’
Hildegard pointed out. ‘We know he passed over the bridge that night because the sentries at both ends said so - even though the timing doesn’t work out properly,’ she amended weakly.

‘Grizac? Surely impossible? I feel guilty even for thinking it,’ Peterkin admitted.

They were silent for a few moments, struck by the enormity of the idea, until Bertram tried another tack. ‘Do we know if Taillefer got on the wrong side of anybody recently?’

Hildegard remembered Elfric throwing down the gauntlet to Taillefer in the tilt yard the other day. ‘Elfric?’ She turned.

‘Not me. He was my sword partner.’ He seemed disinclined to say more.

‘There was that fellow in the Great Courtyard the other day. The one we thought was trying to frighten him,’ Bertram reminded.

‘We still have no idea why he issued such a threat,’ Edmund added.

‘We must find out more from this cursed sentry.’ It was Bertram again. ‘We’ve got to know exactly who went onto the bridge that night. Don’t you agree, domina?’

‘I do.’

‘We need to know who was involved in the argument the ferryman heard. It must have been Taillefer and his murderer. The sentry must be lying about the cardinals being the only ones to go across. There must have been someone else.’

‘I’ll talk to the sentry,’ Edmund interrupted. ‘I told Taillefer about the dagger in the first place. It’s my fault he went looking for it and got himself into trouble.’

‘Don’t blame yourself, Edmund. He was as eager to find Maurice’s killer as we all are and thought, as we did, that the dagger might be a clue to the mystery.’

Edmund gave her a grateful glance but was not entirely reassured. ‘I’ll go and speak to him, nevertheless.’

‘We only asked Taillefer to escort the miners to the ferry,’ Bertram pointed out. He placed his hand on Edmund’s arm. ‘We wanted nothing more from him. He’s the one who got himself into this mess by choosing to visit his girl at the inn -’ he broke off with a swift glance at Hildegard.

‘I know about her,’ she said.

‘Well, just don’t go blaming yourself, Edmund,’ he mumbled.

‘So what now?’ Edmund asked in a tone that showed he was still shouldering the blame.

‘I’ll talk to the priest of the bridge again,’ Hildegard told them. ‘I feel he knows more than he’s willing to admit.’ She moved towards the arch into the passage.

‘We could go and lark around near the ferryman’s cottage and maybe get him to tell us if he saw anything else. His cottage is so close to the bridge I can’t believe he didn’t have a good look when he heard voices. Despite the storm he must have seen something.’

‘He’s a liar. I wouldn’t trust him, Edmund.’ Peterkin gave a toss of his head.

‘Let’s hope he remains careful with the truth in regard to the payment he received from Taillefer,’ Hildegard admonished. ‘A more honest man would have refused to take the miners across.’

‘It’s called being pragmatic.’ Peterkin gave a cynical shrug of his shoulders.

‘The last thing we want is for him to start blabbing and setting Fitzjohn on their trail,’ observed Edmund testily.

‘Gentlemen,’ Hildegard looked round the circle of earnest faces. ‘I shall be honoured if you will give me your solemn promise that you will on no account put yourselves in danger. If there is anything that strikes you as at all suspicious I want you to come to me to discuss it before taking hasty action. Do I have your word?’

‘You have, domina,’ they chorused.

The boys replied with such alacrity her fears were unassuaged.

**

The sentry’s face reminded Hildegard of a slab of beef, red, raw, unexpressive. Now he stared at her as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘It’s a simple question, Emil,’ she insisted. ‘Did the fellow from the inn follow the thief onto the bridge? Remember, he had just discovered that his dagger was stolen, a weapon he hoped to sell for a large sum. He was angry. He gave chase. Did he, or did he not, chase the thief onto the bridge?’

‘I told you no.’

‘Not in so many words, you didn’t.’

‘Well, I am doing now. Nobody came onto the bridge except for the ones I told you about.’ Again he counted them off on his fingers. ‘Cardinals Bellefort, Fondi, Grizac, Montjoie, the foreign abbot. They all went over in a bunch.’

‘And an esquire could have crossed with them, passing himself off as one of their personal servants in the dark?’

‘Could have.’

‘My thanks.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

**

The priest was polishing the altar brass when she entered.

‘Forgive my intrusion.’

He put down the paten and replaced the cloth under the altar. ‘Salve, domina. I guessed you’d be back.’

‘The murdered youth stole a dagger from a guest at
le Coq d’or.
It seems his victim pursued him as far as the bridge. The sentry denies that he allowed him access.’

‘Therefore your suspicions have alighted on the unlikely suspects of four cardinals and an abbot.’

‘The sentry tells me they all crossed over in a group. Is that so?’

The priest turned away and went to the window and gazed downstream with a faraway expression. Eventually he murmured, ‘You know it is not.’

‘Can you tell me more?’

‘They came onto the bridge in a group straight after lauds. That so far is true. But they did not cross in a group.’

He indicated a bench against the wall. ‘It’s a long story. Sit.’ He lowered himself beside her.

‘You will not know of me,’ he began. ‘I am before your time, domina. These latter years are a gift I had not expected.’ He paused and a look of reminiscence came over his face.

‘Once upon a time I was a famous counter tenor - but not, I hasten to add, with the physical interference that creates such voices in Byzantium. Mine was a natural gift from God.’ He exchanged a smile with her.

‘I knew it was a fleeting grace, that soon my voice would be lost forever.’ He sighed deeply.

‘Despite the glory that was promised and would have reflected onto my fellows, I drew nothing but jeers of jealousy from the other choral scholars, the nature of which you can imagine from rough peasant boys as many of them were. I was a young lad of some spirit and soon lost patience.’ He chuckled. ‘What happened was frightening at the time but the years heal all memories, do they not?’

‘I’m still pondering the truth of that,’ she replied, thinking of Rivera whose memory was a source of continual grief.

‘I said to my tormentors, “If that’s what you think of my masculinity, bring me your sisters if you dare, then discover whether I’m a eunuch or not!” This defiance didn’t go down well. One night three bully boys cornered me and you may guess what outrage they forced on me. I was then, as now, passionate about the rule of law and felt no compunction in going to the head and demanding justice. The result was the three were punished and thrown out of the song school. For many years I had no idea what had happened to them. Meanwhile, my career, starting with promise, exceeded my wildest desires. I became chief soloist in the papal choir. I was feted far and wide. My life was a glittering success. Even when my voice faded, I achieved honour as master of the pope’s music.’ He gave a deep sigh.

‘Such is human nature, however, I was haunted by the fact that I had caused the destruction of three lives, whether justly or not. I resolved to seek out those three and make reparation. In some way too I wanted their forgiveness. Does that sound strange to you?’

‘I understand. But tell me, this must surely have been many years later. Were they easy to find?’

‘Indeed they were not but eventually I discovered that one of them had become a goldsmith, had a wife and six children and was living in a distant town in Burgundy. The second was a monk in a silent order in the mountains. I visited both men and both were forgiven and forgave me in turn. The third turned out rather differently.’ He frowned.

‘The truth is he’d chosen the life of a thief and a vagabond, in and out of gaol, vengeful and violent, with the accusation of several murders never proven against him. When he recognised me and found me in his power again he wanted nothing more than to destroy me. He rounded up a gang of ruffians who lay in wait near my lodgings. Remember, I was far from home. He’d led a peripatetic life. But he wanted to teach me a lesson as he put it although what that lesson was I’ve still no idea. In the scuffle that followed it so happened that I grabbed a sword from one of them and ran him through. According to the rule of law I had myself invoked in the past I was now required to give myself up and receive my punishment for murder. The alternative was to forget my principles and make good my escape.’

He turned to her with a look of wonderment on his face. ‘Isn’t it astonishing that I remember the moment of decision? What was I to do? I glanced down the empty street after my attackers fled. The dead man lay at my feet. My hands were covered in blood. But even so, who would know it was I who had despatched him? I could escape and continue on my glittering path. Then I came to my senses. The rule of law must be upheld.’

‘That was brave. What did you do?’

‘At that time the pope was Urban in Rome. I prostrated myself before him in the great auditorium in the Vatican. A murderer. Guilty. The words from my own mouth confirmed it. He had no choice but to condemn me. But before sentence could be passed something unexpected happened. A young law clerk stepped forward. He set out my case so convincingly I was acquitted. It was what he described as a half-crime. I was ordered to do penance as a monk in a remote community dedicated to St Rufus.’ He paused and his eyes again held a faraway look. ‘You may be thinking why is this old man telling me such a story? Has he nothing better to do than reminisce about the past?’

Hildegard inclined her head.

‘It is because that young lawman is now pre-eminent in the papacy of Clement here in Avignon. Obligations do not die over time. They continue to exist in the great chain of justice that links us all. I owe my life to him. Does that explain anything to you?’

‘I expected you to invoke the secrecy of the confessional in order to tell me nothing.’

‘That also, dear domina, that also.’

**

So what was he telling her? That the young law man who had saved his life all those years ago was one of the cardinals who had crossed the bridge that night? That he had a debt to repay. And the cardinal, whoever he was, had now himself made a confession of murder? And, even if not already bound by the secrecy of the confessional, the priest respected the bond of obligation in order to protect his saviour.

It should be easy to discover the identity of this supporter of Pope Clement, the murderer of Taillefer and Maurice. There were only four possible suspects. And he would be the one who had returned late to Villeneuve.

**

‘Hubert? A word in private?’

‘My joy and my pleasure, dear heart.’

‘No nonsense, please.’

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘You are a light in this world of darkness. How else should I address you?’

‘This is serious.’

‘The loggia again. So busy as to allow us to confer unnoticed, vast enough for a hundred intimate exchanges to pass between us.’

‘There’ll be none of those.’

**

‘I have heard,’ she began, ‘that on the night Taillefer was killed only certain people crossed over the bridge. All named.’

‘And I was one among them.’

‘That’s true, but for heaven’s sake, surely I can discount you in all this?’

‘You can discount Fondi also, I would imagine.’

‘It’s him I wanted to ask you about as you seem to be on friendly terms with him. Do you know him well?’

‘I know Carlotta very well.’

‘Carlotta?’

‘His concubine. I’ve only met Fondi once or twice in my travels and I respect the man but I got to know Carlotta in Urbino years ago when she was an artists’ model. You’ll see her face smiling down from a dozen altar pieces playing the madonna with a variety of delightful children on her lap posing as the Christ child.’

‘Fondi allowed her to work as a model?’ Hildegard was aghast. The man was no more than a pander.

‘This was her work before she met him. I was the one who brought them together.’

‘I see.’

‘I doubt whether you do.’