The Grail Murders (9 page)

I let go the handle and stood back in horror.

The fellow stared at me, clutching the blade of my sword as blood spurted out of the wound. He dropped his own weapon, took one step towards me, his life blood shot out of his mouth and his eyes, still filled with astonishment, glazed over as he collapsed to the ground.

Benjamin turned him over.

'Dead as a stone,' he muttered. 'Sweet Lord, Roger, you had no choice.' He smiled faintly at me. 'I never thought you were a duellist.'

'Neither did I, Master!'

I sat down on the grass in a half-faint. I had just retrieved my sword when the gates of the courtyard were suddenly thrust open and a group of the Cardinal's halberdiers hurried across. Pikes lowered, they ringed both of us. The captain, fat-faced with a russet beard, plucked the sword out of my hand.

'Sir, by what name?'

He clicked his fingers and two of the soldiers dragged me to my feet.

'My servant's name is Roger Shallot,' Benjamin declared.

"This fellow challenged him to a duel and would not let him go-'

The captain made a face. 'That may well be.' He peered closer. 'You are Master Da
unbey, the Cardinal's nephew?' ‘I
am.'

'Then, sir, you should know that duelling is expressly forbidden by His Majesty and to draw swords in anger in the King's own palace is high treason. Master Shallot, you are under arrest!'

I gazed speechlessly at Benjamin's white face. He shrugged helplessly.

'Go with them, Roger,' he whispered hoarsely. 'I will see my uncle.'

Ringed by the group of halberdiers, I was half-pushed out of the courtyard. We turned and went down a passageway. Mandeville and Southgate had been standing in the gallery watching the entire spectacle through a window. The two bastards seemed to be enjoying themselves but Southgate held up his hand and the guard stopped whilst Mandeville grabbed my wrist.

'You had no choice, Master Shallot,' he murmured. 'That is why we left so abruptly. We saw the bully-boy coming and thought he might be trouble.'

Oh, thank you very much, I thought. But that's the way of the world. If there's a mound of shit, old Shallot is always dropped in it!

Mandeville and Santerre stood aside and I was marched down to a small narrow cellar which also served as the palace dungeon. I was thrust in, given a candle, a cup of watered wine and a loaf of the hardest bread the kitchen could supply. It was tinged with green mould and, as I sat gnawing on it, reflecting on my fortunes, I realised that bastard of a one-eyed cook had apparently missed the capon I had stolen. I sat there for hours.

At first the blood ran hot in my veins and I loudly protested my innocence to the cold grey walls and to two large rats which seemed to appear from nowhere. They listened to my declarations of innocence and, when I fell into a fitful sleep, gnawed the bread and drank what wine was left in the battered cup. When I awoke it was dark and cold and I became frightened. The bully-boy, God rest him whoever he was, had forced that fight deliberately. So who had sent him? Who had staged that little masque?

Then I thought of the King, with his piggy, sly eyes; the Lord Cardinal, his Master of Games - and my fear t
urned to heart-stopping terror,
affairs of state, dearest Nephew.' He pushed back his chair and swept down the chamber. Leaning over, he grasped Benjamin by the shoulders and kissed him affectionately on each cheek. 'Be careful! Be careful, dear Nephew!' I heard him whisper. 'Do whatever the King commands.'

He stood away, smiled falsely, and returned to his seat next to the King. (Lord, he was a treacherous bastard! Wolsey's ambitious fingers poked in every man's pie. Do you know, he was so oily that at the end of the world, when everything else catches fire, he'll burn a week longer than anyone else).

'Master Daunbey,' Henry called out, 'you wish for some wine?'

He clicked his fingers and Agrippa stepped out of the shadows. (God knows where he had been hiding during the last few days.)

The good doctor put two cups down in front of us, filled them and went back to stand at the door. I caught his warning glance but he didn't have to tell Old Shallot anything. I may have the courage of a wild duck but I have more wits than a dog has fleas. Fat Henry had also been studying me.

'A rare honour for you, Master Shallot. We do not welcome traitors close to our bosoms - men who kill in our presence.'

'Your Majesty, I was provoked!' I blurted out.

Henry smirked as Wolsey leaned over and whispered in his ear. The King flicked his fingers contemptuously at me. Wolsey smiled unctuously, like some pompous priest talking to his dimmest parishioner.

'Master Shallot,' the Cardinal purred, 'so pleasant to see you again.'

I became more nervous and stared quickly round the room: the windows were all shuttered and none of the cresset torches had been lit. A dark shape lurked in the shadows and I knew Agrippa was standing listening to everything. Wolsey nodded at the King, clasped his hands and leaned forward. Oh Lord, I thought, here comes danger.

'Dear Nephew, you saw Buckingham die?'

The King sniffed and dabbed at his eyes with one laced cuff.

'A bosom friend,' he interrupted, 'a man close to my heart. How could he betray his friend and King?'

I just stared at the fat hypocrite as Wolsey patted him gently on the wrist. One of the finest actors I have ever met, old Henry. He could turn the tears on as easily as the tap on a beer keg. He always delivered a fine performance, almost believable - unless you knew how black his heart was.

'Buckingham was a traitor,' Wolsey declared sonorously, 'and deserved his death. Dearest Nephew, Hopkins was questioned in the Tower and you have the famous riddle. How does it go? Ah yes:

"Beneath Jordan's water Christ's cup does rest,

And above Moses' Ark the sword that's best."

'Yes,' he murmured. 'Very clever.'

'Agrippa discovered that,' Benjamin answered sharply.

'Yes, yes, he did,' Wolsey purred. 'But let us review matters. Buckingham's power lay in the South-West along the Welsh march and in the counties of Somerset, Devon and Dorset. He had Yorkist blood in his veins and a history of treason, for his father also went to the block. Now his treason began when he went to Templecombe . . .' Wolsey glanced sideways at Sir John Santerre. 'Perhaps, sir, you would like to continue?'

Santerre cleared his throat. 'My Lord of Buckingham,' he began, then coughed. 'I mean, the traitor Buckingham, came to my house on a Friday evening late last autumn. I thought it strange for, although we corresponded on estate matters, he very rarely travelled so far south, even though I knew he had a special regard for Father Hopkins.

'Now, Hopkins,' Santerre continued, 'was a London-bora priest, a Benedictine monk from Glastonbury who had been dispensed from his monastic vows to serve as chaplain at Templecombe as well as a priest serving the outlying farms and granges belonging to Glastonbury Abbey.' Santerre looked down the table at us. 'Hopkins was a strange man, an antiquarian and historian. He knew all the legends of Somerset and Devon and could recount the tales of Arthur backwards.'

'Did he ever talk about the Grail or Excalibur?' Benjamin interrupted, ignoring his uncle's frown of annoyance.

'Sometimes at the table he would do so, but he spent most of his time either in his chamber or on what he called his travels, visiting the farms or ferreting out new secrets.'

'About what?' I asked.

'About Arthur, and the whereabouts of his Grail. His chamber was for ever full of manuscripts.'

'Where are these now?' Benjamin asked.

'Destroyed,' Southgate interrupted lazily. 'The mad priest burnt everything before coming up to London.'

'Continue, Sir John,' snapped Wolsey.

'Dearest Uncle, one more question?'

Wolsey nodded angrily.

'Sir John, was Hopkins friendly with you and your family?'

'No,' Santerre replied heatedly. 'I have explained that. He kept himself to himself. Oh, he performed his priestly functions, Mass and Confession, but you could see his heart was not in it. They were more duties then priestly celebrations.' Sir John glanced quickly at his wife and daughter. 'He didn't seem to like women. I rarely saw him, nor can my wife or daughter ever remember having a conversation with him, which lasted longer than ten minutes.'

'This is true,' Rachel added softly, and her dark sloe eyes smiled, making me momentarily forget I was sitting in the presence of a great murderer.

'Continue!' Henry rapped the table.

'I now know,' Santerre continued hurriedly, 'that Hopkins often visited my Lord of Buckingham and, when the Duke visited Templecombe, he asked to see me in my private chamber. The Duke was very excited, claiming that Hopkins had told him that the Grail and Arthur's Sword still existed, that he was most desirous of obtaining them, and that Hopkins believed that once he had solved a secret cipher, such precious relics would be in his possession.'

"This secret cipher,' Benjamin intervened, 'is the riddle heard from Hopkins's dying lips at the Tower and which my Lord Cardinal has just recited?'

'Yes, yes,' Santerre answered.

'And where did Hopkins find that?'

'Apparently in the fly-leaf of a book, an ancient chronicle, in Glastonbury library.'

'We do not know if that's true,' Mandeville spoke up, 'but it can be verified.'

'Anyway,' Santerre continued, aware of the King's fingers drumming on the table top. 'I asked my Lord of Buckingham why he needed such relics, to which he replied: "Who knows? Who knows to what heights a man could rise, if he held Arthur's sword and drank from the cup Christ himself used?" '

'Dear Uncle,' Benjamin said sweetly, 'is that treason? My Lord of Buckingham was like other great men. Indeed, His Grace the King and yourself are avid collectors of relics.'

'But not traitors,' Mandeville interrupted. 'You see, Master Daunbey, what Buckingham did not know is that two of my men, skilled ferreters out of treason, were members of his retinue.'

Benjamin smiled. 'You mean Calcraft and Warnham who have since been garrotted?'

Mandeville lost some of his composure. His grin fell away and he chewed angrily on the quick of his thumb.

'Yes.' He nodded. 'Yes, Master Daunbey, Calcraft and Warnham who have since been killed, but let that wait. Suffice to say that at Templecombe they approached Sir John Santerre and asked him what Buckingham had said. My Lord of Templecombe was astute and loyal enough to tell the truth.'

'And then what?' Benjamin asked.

'We established,' Mandeville continued, 'that Hopkins often carried messages to a certain Master Taplow in London. Taplow, a Lutheran tailor, used his links with certain noblemen to report back to my Lord of Buckingham the doings of the court and what was happening in the city. Master Taplow is now in the Fleet Prison. He has confessed that letters written to him by Buckingham and carried by Hopkins demonstrate how this traitorous Duke intended to find the sacred relics and use them to cause bloody rebellion against the King. We seized such letters. Buckingham has gone to the block, Taplow will go to the stake, whilst Hopkins has already answered for his crimes.'

'Very neat, very neat,' Benjamin muttered. 'But this business of the Templars?'

Wolsey, who had been watching his nephew, waved his hand for silence and whispered into the King's ear. Henry, who had been staring assiduously at Rachel Santerre, lifted his heavy-lidded eyes, smirked and nodded.

'Dearest nephew,' Wolsey continued, 'the Templars were fighting monks dedicated to defending the Holy Land. They amassed great wealth in this country and others. On Friday October the thirteenth 1307 all the Templars in France were arrested, their lands and wealth were seized by King Philip IV with the blessing of Pope Clement V. Similar arrests occurred in this country and elsewhere but some Templars survived. Their fleet disappeared from La Rochelle whilst those who escaped arrest went undergroun
d, particularly in Scotl
and, where they were protected by Robert the Bruce. The Templars vowed vengeance against every royal family who betrayed them, and that includes the Crown of England. The spiritual descendants of these Templars are now a secret brotherhood.' Wolsey paused and smirked. 'The word "brotherhood" must not be taken literally. The Templars themselves were celibate men but we know this society includes cleric and lay, young and old, married and celibate, male and female, English and French, high and low. Some people say the Yorkist princes, enemies of His Grace the King, may have been members of this brotherhood.'