The Grail Murders (16 page)

Benjamin took his torch and walked along the walls examining the shutters of each window. All were closed, their clasps firmly in place.

'A veritable mystery,' he murmured. 'The murderer was locked in but how did he get out? Sir John, these shutters, they are locked from the inside?'

'And from the outside,' Santerre shouted.

'Oh, sweet heaven!' Benjamin breathed.

He led the group out of the church and, in a ring of torchlight, examined each window and the snow beneath. However, this only deepened the mystery for the outside latch on each shutter was also down and, apart from the fresh footprints of Lady Beatrice and Rachel, there was no sign that anyone had used the window to get in or out.

'Well,' Southgate declared, as we gathered outside the door of the church again. 'Damien's dead, murdered!'

'Death by steel,' I replied. 'Don't forget the witch's curse.'

'If it's witchcraft,' Mandeville grated, 'I'll see the old bitch burn within a week!' He glared at Rachel. 'You are right, Mistress, this house is cursed. Two of the King's most loyal servants have died here, foully murdered. The place should be burnt down.'

'Nons
ense!' Benjamin interrupted. 'Dami
en was killed with a crossbow bolt and ghosts don't leave stains on the floor. We know how the murderer got in and where he lurked, the only problem is how he got out.' Benjamin drew himself up so his shoulders were no longer stooped. 'Can't you see what is happening?' he exclaimed. 'The assassin has marked us down for death, but first he is playing with us like a cat does with a mouse. The fear of death is often worse than death itself. Cosmas and Damien's murders are meant to torture and punish us as well as unnerve and divert us from our true mission. Two men are dead. Yet, Sir Edmund, I am confident the assassin will eventually make a mistake.'

Mandeville viciously kicked at the snow with the toe of his boot. 'But when, Master Daunbey, when?' He looked at his lieutenant. 'Southgate, have Damien's corpse removed. Sir John, I will need a chest. Tomorrow you will move both bodies down to the village church.'

Mandeville strode off, then stopped and turned. 'South-gate, before you do that, I would remove everything from Damien's room, all papers and documents. Sir John, dismiss the servants. I need to see you all in the hall.'

We obeyed and went in to sit in a sombre half-circle round the fire. No thought of food or drink now as Mandeville strode up and down in front of us, so angry he seemed impervious to the roaring flames of the fire.

Tomorrow,' he began, 'we must go to Glastonbury. The snow lies thick but not deep enough to hinder justice.' He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 'I could ask where each of you were today but what's the use?'

I glanced quickly at Sir John. Apart from Benjamin and I, he was the only one who had left the manor so his cloak and boots would have been covered in snow. Had he gone to Glastonbury or come back by a secret route to Templecombe to hide himself in the church? Or was the assassin already here? Could it have been one of the footpads who tried to ambush me earlier that day? I glanced up. Mandeville was staring at me as if trying to read my thoughts.

'We must be careful,' he murmured, drawing in deep breaths to calm himself. 'We must not start accusing each other of murder. Any one of your tenants, Sir John, and I mean no offence, could be the assassin. Perhaps Master Shallot is right, we must not forget that damned witch.'

'She may know something, Sir Edmund,' Benjamin tactfully intervened. 'But the murderer of Cosmas and Damien must be in this household.'

Mandeville agreed. 'Sir John, tomorrow morning at first light, I want all your servants gathered here in the main hall. And pray, sir, do not object. This is the King's business.'

He pushed by the chairs and strode out of the hall. Benjamin nodded apologetically to Sir John, beckoned to me and hastily followed. Mandeville was already half-way up the stairs.

'Sir Edmund,' my master called, 'a word!' Mandeville looked down, his eyes glowing with a murderous rage.

'Piss off, Daunbey! In there I have to be courteous but I'll never forget that you and that bloody rogue of a servant were the last to see my clerk alive!' He came back down the stairs. 'You think it's a game, don't you?' he snarled. 'I have lost two good men. Four, if you include Warnham and Calcraft.' Mandeville pushed his face only inches away from that of Benjamin. 'You may not like what we are, the King's agents, his tools, his spies. You may not even like the King, but he wears the Crown of the Confessor. A strong prince is infinitely better than ten strong princes fighting for the crown.'

'I accept what you say,' Benjamin quietly replied. 'But that is not the matter at issue.'

Mandeville looked away. 'You are right,' he breathed. 'It is not. I have lost many agents but Cosmas and Damien were like flesh and blood. I mourn their deaths.'

'Then, sir,' I exclaimed, 'it is a time for honesty!'

I approached, shrugging off Benjamin's warning touch.

'We are the only ones you can trust. Warnham and Calcraft died before we ever entered this play. So let me ask you honestly, the man we met in Newgate wasn't Taplow, was he?'

The anger drained from Mandeville's face. He beckoned us further down the gallery and into a window embrasure where no one could eavesdrop. He stared through the paned glass and smiled apologetically.

'You are correct, Taplow died at Smithfield but the man you met was not him.'

'Why?' I asked.

'The King's orders.'

'And those letters Buckingham wrote?'

Now Mandeville's face paled. He still had a flicker of morality in him.

'Our King always wanted Buckingham dead, as did the Lord Cardinal. It was simply a matter of fitting a noose round his neck.'

'And Hopkins?' I insisted.

'A stupid priest who may have been a secret Templar and had access to hidden knowledge.'

'And the rest
...
the Grail, Excalibur, the Templars themselves?'

'Oh, that's all true.'

'Come, Sir Edmund,' Benjamin mocked. 'Just tell us what is really true!'

Mandeville leaned against the wall and ticked the points off on his fingers. 'First,' he whispered, 'the King wanted Buckingham dead. He was powerful, over mighty, had Yorkist blood in his veins. He also hated the King because of Henry's seduction of his sister. Secondly, Buckingham wanted those relics, the Grail and Excalibur. God knows why. Perhaps as curios, perhaps as a talisman he could use in some conspiracy against the King. Thirdly, Buckingham may not have been a traitor but he undoubtedly entertained treasonable thoughts, perhaps was a secret Templar. Fourthly, Hopkins was a conniving priest, a possible Templar, with an open distaste for our King. Fifthly, Taplow the tailor was a Lutheran, al
so involved in treasonable prac
tices.'

'Such as?' I brusquely interrupted.

'He had tenuous links with Buckingham and also with Master Hopkins. I admit the letters Buckingham supposedly wrote to him were forgeries, as was Taplow's evidence at Buckingham's trial. The poor bastard was tortured so much he would have confessed to anything.'

'So why,' Benjamin asked, 'didn't you allow us to interrogate the real Taplow?'

Mandeville stared through the frosted glass.

'I asked a question, Sir Edmund?'

'Taplow was promised his life if he supported our destruction of Buckingham but in Newgate he began to recant.' This most sinister of spies shrugged. 'For a short time one of my agents took his place.' Mandeville smiled mirthlessly. 'I wondered if it would work. What made you suspect he wasn't the person he claimed to be?'

'Lutherans don't believe in Purgatory, the Taplow we met did.'

Mandeville sniffed disparagingly. 'Did you know Mistress Hopkins was murdered?' Benjamin asked.

Mandeville shook his head. 'We thought she wasn't worth the bother of watching.'

'Well, someone thought she was important and garrotted her. By the way, do you know who killed Warnham and Calcraft?'

'If I did,' Mandeville snapped, 'the murderer would be hanging on the gibbet at Smithfield!'

'So how much of the rest do you think is true?' I asked.

'Oh, the Grail and Excalibur exist. The King is most insistent on that.'

'And the Templars?'

'Oh, yes, we have been hunting them for years. They are a secret organisation existing in cells of six or seven. No single coven knows much about the others but they are powerful, spread like a net through France, Spain, Scotland and England. They are particularly strong here in the Southwest.'

'Who is their leader?'

'A Grand Master, but we don't know his name or which country he lives in.'

Mandeville suddenly put his finger to his lips and stepped out of the window embrasure. He looked down to the gallery where the Santerres now stood outside the hall door.

'Sir John,' Mandeville called, 'I should be grateful if you could stay in the hall. Certain questions must be asked.'

'Look,' Benjamin continued, 'why are the King and his agents so interested in this secret society?'

Mandeville waited for the Santerres to withdraw before he answered. 'The Templars are particularly hostile to the King and have supported most of the Yorkist rebellions. They circulate stories about the Princes in the Tower still being alive and, during the present King's father's reign, they supported the two imposters, Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck. If you remember your history, Master Daunbey, you may recall the fiercest rebellions were here in the South-West. When the King was a boy, rebels from the West Country made him flee from the city whilst the pretender, Perkin Warbeck, actually laid siege to Exeter.'

'Is Santerre under suspicion?'

'Yes and no. Santerre has proved to be a most loyal subject of the King but Hopkins served him as a chaplain and Buckingham came here looking for those relics.' Mandeville snorted with laughter. 'Matters are not helped by the two recent murders.'

'And Lady Beatrice? Her maiden name is Belamonte.

Her first husband, Lord of Templecombe, was Sir Roger Mortimer.'

Mandeville shook his head. 'Her loyalty is really beyond question. After all, it was Lady Beatrice who urged Santerre to confess everything about Buckingham to my two agents.'

'And the monks at Glastonbury?'

Mandeville smiled bleakly. 'A pretty mess. Strong links probably existed between the Templars and the abbey. Hopkins was a member of that house and the monks do guard the remains of Arthur whilst this mysterious riddle was found in a manuscript of their library. Mandeville gnawed at his lip. 'I have been honest with you. Now, sir, be truthful with me. What do you know?'

My master described what had happened on the trackway earlier that day.

'Probably members of the Templar coven,' Mandeville commented.

'They could have been responsible
for the deaths of Cosmas and Da
mien,' I added.

'Thus we must resolve the matter,' Benjamin declared. 'The servants of this house could, one or all, be either the assassins or in their pay.'

'We shall deal with them in the morning,' Mandeville snapped.

'There's something else,' Benjamin continued. 'Sir Edmund, we must solve the riddle. Yet, as far as I can see, this house or the chapel have nothing even vaguely resembling the waters of Jordan or Moses' Ark.' He shrugged apologetically. 'I have wandered round the galleries but there's no painting or carving to arouse my curiosity. Only two other places remain: Glastonbury Abbey and the desolate building on that lonely island in the middle of the lake.'

'When we were at Glastonbury,' Mandeville answered, stroking the side of his face, 'I told the abbot to send one of his lay brothers to Taunton with a message for the sheriff to bring armed men to Templecombe. I expect them tomorrow morning. Once they have arrived we will interrogate the servants, cross to the island as well as hunt down that bloody witch.'

'And the two murders?' I asked. 'Do we have any further evidence?'

'Nothing,' Benjamin replied quickly. 'One man dies in his bed which mysteriously catches fire. Another is killed by a crossbow bolt but the only door is bolted and the windows shuttered. We have established the assassin had been tramping round in the snow, yet Lady Beatrice and Rachel are wearing the same clothes as they were this morning and, as far as I know, never left the house.'

'Both of you did,' Mandeville tartly replied.