The Butcher of Avignon (38 page)

I’m not ready for this. Let Hubert not be involved.

Even at this last ditch, let Hubert not be involved.

For a tense moment they regarded each other until eventually she said, ‘You ordered Maurice to break into the treasury and steal the dagger because you knew it contained a poison with no antidote. Is it true, yes or no?’

‘Neither. He needed no order when he knew what it was and what it would be used for.’

‘Which was?’

‘Clement guessed what I wanted. He may not have guessed why I wanted it!’ He gave a wild laugh, quite out of character. ‘He knew I’d overheard him discuss its potency and that he intended to use it as a bargaining tool with the English traitor, Woodstock. When his bodyguard found Maurice in there it showed my own involvement. He was overjoyed to show me the body of my - he was overjoyed to see how much I – ’ Grizac’s voice failed him for a moment but then he gathered himself enough to say, ‘It must have been one of his happiest moments, to bring me to my nadir! Little did he realise that his own life had been saved. He had no idea why Maurice was willing to risk his life to get hold of something so powerful.’

‘You mean - ?’

‘We wanted to do the world a service. We wanted atonement for the thousands killed in cold blood in Cesena.’

‘You were going to poison Clement?’ Her mouth opened in astonishment.

‘The important thing was to stop Fitzjohn returning to England with it. I knew why they wanted it.’

‘Does this mean you murdered Taillefer to try to get the dagger back when it disappeared from the mortuary?’

‘Why would I commit such sacrilege? Taillefer was innocent.’

‘He got the dagger from someone. And you wanted it.’

‘And so he had to die? Is that what you think? Poor boy. It breaks my heart to think of him, caught up in something he did not understand. The man who murdered Maurice stole the dagger and then killed Taillefer when he ran off with it.’

‘And the nun in my cell? What had she to do with it?’

‘Maybe you were the intended victim? You knew too much. You were already getting close to the truth, I believe.’ He took a step nearer. ‘But tell me, domina, if you know so much, maybe you know who Clement obtained the poison from?’

‘Fondi?’

He laughed. ‘And that she-wolf? And who else knew about it? Your damned Abbot.’ He moved towards her. ‘And now you.’

‘Not I, not until later. It took me too long to realise that it wasn’t the dagger anybody was after but what it contained. I only discovered that when we found the dagger on Taillefer’s body as he was taken from the river. I was about to open the compartment in the hilt when I recognised what it really was, not a dagger at all despite its sharp blade but a receptacle for something too dangerous to handle.’

‘Didn’t de Courcy tell you what it was?’

‘Why should he?’

‘Because he must have known. Fondi would have told him. Then he warned Clement it would be stolen. And Clement sent in his assassin to wait for Maurice to appear.’

‘Not so.’ A voice from the doorway cut in. They both turned.

Athanasius stepped onto the roof. He looked frail as if the wind would blow him over and he was out of breath after the long climb but gathering his black cloak round him he stepped into the lee of the battlements for shelter and surveyed them both with thin-lipped amusement from beneath his black hood.

‘It was I who told his holiness about your plan to steal the poison and thwart his business with Woodstock. That is my job, after all, as you well know, Grizac. You must have suspected as much or why else would you have appeared in my cell to bewail your vast ignorance of the matter?’ He chuckled. ‘Clement would never have been taken in by that even if I had passed on your protestations of innocence to him.’

‘So how did you find out what I intended to do?’

‘You yourself told me.’

‘I?’

‘That night in Clement’s private chapel you were like a man on a gridiron, which is probably how you’ll end up when the Inquisition gets hold of you. It was clear to anybody with eyes in their head that you were up to something. Sweaty hands, darting eyes, gibbering like a lunatic whenever anybody spoke to you. Of course I couldn’t know the details but I thought it worth mentioning your behaviour to Clement’s bodyguard and he, good man, went down to have a look round. He went well armed, prepared for anything. And discovered your little thief.’

‘Maurice was just an unarmed boy.’

‘Ah, so sad.’ Athanasius shrugged with no compassion in his eyes. ‘It’s a shame you can’t tell a lie without showing your guilt, Grizac. That, I venture to say, is your greatest failing. You’re too honest for this world and the quicker you leave it the better, don’t you agree?’

‘You’ll burn in hell for your diabolical plots.’

‘Maybe. In the meantime what shall we do to solve another little problem? Pray, advise me. Unfortunately our guest,’ he gestured towards Hildegard, ‘knows too much to allow her to return to England. Incarceration in one of our stricter nunneries might be a salutary reward for her interference.’

‘My abbot might have something to say to that,’ she said with unfounded conviction.

‘De Courcy will do as he’s told.’

Hildegard looked askance. ‘Are we talking about the same man?’

‘If not told, then bought,’ he snapped, ‘and if not bought, then erased.’ He turned to Grizac. ‘The important thing is what you say to Clement’s inquisitors. They’ll want to know the name of your master.’

‘I work alone.’ Grizac sounded suddenly calm. He even managed a smile. ‘I’ve never had allies. Never felt I could trust anyone enough. Except, of course, for Maurice. And you’ve taken him from me, brother. There’s nothing more you can do to me.’ He began to laugh. ‘I’m astonished a man of your cunning and malevolence could make such a massive mistake. It’s really quite amusing.’ He began to shake with laughter. ‘Imagine! Your one hold over me and you destroy it! What a fool you are, little man. I’ve never been impressed by your humourless threats. You’re too much of this world, brother. You have not been favoured with divine grace and it renders you impotent. You’re nothing more than a rat scrabbling for power over other rats. I pity you, Athanasius. Know it.’

Grizac walked slowly over to the battlements until he was standing beside Hildegard. ‘Have I misjudged you, domina? Are you not of the Woodstock affinity after all?’

‘Never. King Richard is our anointed and legitimate king. He’s been beset by enemies since the day of his coronation when he was a mere child.’

‘We might have been allies then. I could have trusted you.’ He gazed sadly into her face. ‘I knew the prioress of Swyne in my days in York and was impressed by her integrity. I should have known her nuns would have been chosen for similar qualities of character.’

She lowered her voice. ‘Maurice did not die in vain. Don’t despair. What he wanted to achieve has been done.’

‘What?’ He peered into her face.

‘I have it. Urbino Mandraco. You may not fulfil your intention to destroy the antipope but the king is safe.’

Grizac put a hand on her head in a brief blessing. ‘May he protect you, domina.’

He turned to Athanasius. ‘Your secrets are revealed. Tremble before the gates of hell. You will burn and suffer. God save Urban!’

Then with a movement so quick both she and Athanasius were taken by surprise he pulled himself onto the parapet, stretched out his arms in the shape of a cross and with a cry of just one word that told of everything in his heart, plunged from the battlements like a great, winged bird with his cloak streaming behind him.

Athanasius gave a howl of rage. His face was a contorted mask of hatred.

Hildegard gripped the wall with both hands and after a moment forced herself to look over the edge. Far below, Grizac’s fluttering red cloak came to rest over his broken body where he lay face down, bones shattered, in a spreading pool of blood.

**

The paste white face of Athanasius, twisted and stark under the black hood, expressed a profundity of evil like an astral force. It sucked all goodness out of the world and tried insidiously to draw her into its realm. He was motionless.

His shock at what the cardinal had done was obvious. Grizac had escaped him. Grizac had transcended his evil star. Grizac had triumphed.

The blanched lips curled in a snarl. ‘Are you going to follow him, domina? I suggest it as the better alternative to what awaits you.’

‘You heard what Cardinal Grizac said. I endorse every word. But I have not finished yet.’

As she spoke he made a furious, tottering step towards her, raising one hand with a knife in it but, as he brought it down in a glinting arc, she pushed him hard against the wall, shouting, ‘Out of my way, you creature!’

Do not trust him.

It was Athanasius, not Grizac. The prioress had tried to warn her about him.

Before he could gather himself and raise the knife again she tore across the roof to the door, burst through it and slammed it hard behind her, forcing her whole weight against it. With no idea what to do, where to turn next, nor whether Athanasius had recovered and was even now spidering across the roof after her, she suddenly noticed the key in the door. Grasping it with both hands she revolved it in the lock.

It bought some time. If only she could get past the sentry at the bottom of the stairs she could run to safety. She might even be able to saddle a horse and escape before Athanasius managed to free himself and call the guards.

Down the spiral staircase, twisting giddily, hands slithering down the walls on both sides to keep her footing, plunging down in a flying descent until she reached ground level, she saw, with a gasp of relief, that the sentry was not at his post. The empty passage stretched ahead.

More steps. Up, this time. Two at a time. Breathless. Another corridor. Through an arch. Running along a gallery on the other side she chanced on the hidden place under the buttress where the pages met.

A sudden idea. Edmund. Prepare a horse from the stables. Make her getaway under cover of darkness. She did not doubt that when Athanasius freed himself from his temporary imprisonment he would call out the militia and track her down. Then it would be the Inquisition. The heretics’ pyre in the market place.

She ducked under the arch with a sense of having found sanctuary. Mounds of straw untidily stacked as usual. How the boys emerged from it that time when she came to meet them. She saw it move.

Whispered, ‘Edmund? Are you here?’

The straw heaved. Someone. All not lost. Soon a horse and escape.

Then a shape reared up, shedding straw. A figure emerging, growing taller. Filling the space. Taller still. Too tall.

Not Edmund.

No, not Edmund. Not one of the pages. It was the pope’s personal bodyguard.

A big man, well over six feet, he had to cruck his head under the slope of the roof when he stood up, bulking in the tight space, the secret space above the Great Audience Chamber.

She was transfixed.

Armoured in a black leather cuirass, greaves, gauntlets and a leather casque covering his head with the upper half of his face concealed, he wore a broad sword in a leather scabbard on a low-slung belt with an extra knife stuck in a leather sheath near his right hand. His eyes were bright behind the slits of the mask.

‘Patience finds its own reward, just as they tell us.’ He took a step forward.

Hildegard. Still transfixed, stared.

‘I knew you‘d have to visit your boys some time,’ he chuckled, sly, confident, very much in charge. ‘Don’t worry, domina. We have them safe.’ He beckoned with his left hand. ‘Come, we have a reckoning, you and I, more even than you might guess. Make it easy.’

He slid the knife with a relishing slowness from its sheath.

**

They were less than a yard apart. She could smell the strong, feral scent of him. Hear him breathe. See the rise and fall of his muscular torso under the protective leather bands of his cuirass. She could even see the individual black hairs round his mouth. Beard roughly shaven. Lips moist. Teeth broken and black. Breathe foul.

He loomed over her.

‘You know me. And I know you,’ he paused then intoned with deliberate emphasis, ‘
Hildegard.’

With one finger he slid aside his mask and she saw the scar running from brow to jaw in a livid, jagged line. Features she knew were suddenly, sickeningly, before her.

Plunging into the nightmare she could only croak, ‘Escrick Fitzjohn? Here?’

It was his voice she had recognised in that scuffle outside
le Coq d’or
the other night. Even with him standing in close proximity as now, part of her refused to believe it. It could not be Escrick. Not here.

He ran a finger down his scar. ‘Remember when you did this to me?’

She felt drenched in cold water and came to her senses. ‘I didn’t do it, Escrick. You did it yourself by attacking the lock-keeper near Meaux. You drew your sword on him. He was unarmed. You killed him in cold blood.’

He began to chuckle again. ‘Long, long ago, yes. In another world. What a strange business fate is. I’d put you well out of mind but now, like a gift from the angels, here you are, delivered safely unto my embrace to receive a final blessing.’

‘What mischance brought you here?’

‘You’ve met my handsome brother Jack?’ he sneered. ‘Where Sir John Fitzjohn goes I’m not far behind.’

‘I’m astonished to see you in Avignon of all places. What’s for you here?’ Her best hope was to keep him talking.

‘There’s plenty, believe me!’’

‘Did you come over with your brother’s retinue?’ Keep him talking. ‘I didn’t know you and he were allies again.’

‘With his usual lordly generosity he took me in when he was called to do service with our father in Castile – ’

‘With John of Gaunt?’

‘Yes. And when that little skirmish was over and he was crowned King John in Compostela we two bastards were no further use, so Jack went back to England to rejoin Woodstock -’ he shrugged.

‘And you?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You deserted?’

‘Call it that if you like. You’re a nit-picking nun. I see it differently. No pay, no service. And you’ll certainly know what a tight-fisted devil Gaunt is even to his own flesh and blood. I decided I’d head back to France, maybe do better for myself fighting in the pope’s army. The winning one. The victor at Cesena.’