Hildegard decided to search out Gregory and Egbert, but when she entered the guest house to find a bite to eat she was met by solemn faces from the few servants in the hall.
One of them approached her. ‘The body is to be brought down after the next Office, domina.’
Thanking him for the information, she went across to the church before the bell began its summons and was straight away taken aside by Sister Aveline who was hovering in the entrance. ‘News about the monk who died,’ she whispered. ‘Gold has gone missing from the bursar’s coffers. Now they’re out on another search party.’
‘Are the two things linked?’ Hildegard frowned.
‘They are saying he embezzled the gold to give to someone in the town. A woman, it is rumoured.’
She thought at once of Sabine. ‘But why would he need to do that?’
‘These fellows run up debts in the stews and eventually their debtors find them out.’ Sister Aveline gave a sanctimonious pursing of her lips.
‘That’s monstrous!’ Hildegard exclaimed.
‘Isn’t it!’
‘I mean, if it’s untrue it’s a slur on a good man.’ She could not believe she was wrong about Aelwyn, although how could she know after one glimpse of the fellow? Friar John’s reticence in the matter suggested that there was more to him than she knew.
Sister Aveline adjusted her veil. ‘Now we have a requiem mass to sit through after the next Office.’ She gave a heavy sigh. ‘More delays.’
Hildegard wondered for a moment what she meant. Then it dawned. ‘You mean before we can view the relic?’
The nun nodded.
‘If the abbot will not make his decision before Epiphany there’s plenty of time for us all to have a look at it,’ Hildegard pointed out.
‘Do you believe he has not made up his mind already?’ Aveline trilled and added a light, irritating laugh full of knowingness. ‘And do you also believe it is the abbot’s decision? I think not!’
Hildegard remembered the prior sitting beside the abbot at her interview with him. Is that who Aveline was referring to? He did not have the air of a plotter nor a decision-maker. Now the choir struck up and all chance of continuing the conversation was drowned out in the ethereal chant that followed.
By the time Hildegard lifted her head after praying for peace and for the safe journey of Aelwyn’s soul, Aveline had already slipped away. She went outside and paced the north cloister. In a moment Gregory and Egbert would appear and she had plenty to ask them.
‘So, how fares it in the town?’ Egbert greeted her. ‘We saw a few men-at-arms returning in some disarray. Apparently they were maliciously set upon by mariners armed to the teeth and twice their number and had no alternative but to flee back to sanctuary to discuss future punishment.’ He was smiling and clearly did not believe a word of what they claimed.
‘There was a bit of a fracas, soon over, and it turned into a rout more by the determination of the mariners than by the strength of their armed opponents. The abbey men were wielding broadswords, for heaven’s sake. What sort of men are they?’
‘Felons, in short.’ Egbert turned. ‘Here’s Gregory.’
‘We were worried about you,’ he called. ‘Then Torold came dragging back and told us you were in the thick of it, talking calmly to a friar.’
She told them what had happened. ‘I can’t help feeling that the abbey is being unduly aggressive over these nets,’ she concluded.
‘It’s not just nets but the fact of being opposed. They run sheep on their land and they want to run the people in the same way. They don’t want individuals to stand up for their rights.’ Gregory shook his head. ‘The history of our own Order is not unblemished, is it? When Rievaulx and Fountains were established I understand whole villages were razed to the ground to allow the flocks free pasture.’
‘Enough breast-beating for what happened before our time. We cannot help that. We were not involved. We would not behave in the same way either. It’s what is happening now that we have to deal with. A man dead in mysterious circumstances. Let’s deal with that.’ Egbert swung impatiently away. ‘I’m going across to the apple store now. We need to have another look round before they bring the body down. Coming?’
The two guards rose reluctantly from their dicing when Egbert strode up. ‘All right, men. Has anyone been up here since we left you?’
The men glanced at each other then shook their heads.
‘Who was it?’ demanded Egbert.
One of them grimaced. Despite his monk’s habit, Egbert looked as if he could take on anyone, and would, if thwarted. ‘We thought you meant anybody who shouldn’t have been here,’ he defended. ‘It was only the bursar come up with his man.’
Egbert made no reply but went to the wooden beam that barred the door and lifted it off.
‘Did he go inside?’ he asked. ‘This bursar.’
The men nodded. ‘Only for a second to view the body. He deemed it ripe for taking back to the mortuary.’
Hildegard winced at the callous way he referred to Aelwyn’s remains and bent her head to follow the two monks inside.
‘Why is it so pitch dark in here?’ she asked when she joined them. ‘Is there no way of letting in light? How could anyone see what they were doing?’
Egbert was coughing and choking again and went outside. When she went deeper into the store she could understand why – the strong, sickly sweet fumes rising from the rows of apples was overwhelming.
Gregory came in and looked about him with a puzzled frown. ‘What is it about this place?’ he was asking. The body lay where it had lain last time they were here, a sleeping man, his chosen fruit lying in a neat, methodical row beside him. ‘There’s something not right. Why are there no window slits to let in the light? You’re right, Hildi, they could not see what they were doing at the back of the store. Is there something there we missed?’
He roamed about, going right inside, looking under shelves, reaching out into the darkness at the back but finding nothing.
Hildegard went over to the long wall running the length of the store. It was difficult to make much out, but trailing her hands over the stones in case there was something they had missed, she eventually found a nook where a rag of some sort was bundled between the worked sandstone blocks. She pulled it out. It brought a cry to her lips as light flooded in as soon as the blockage was removed. She held up what she had found.
Gregory reached out. ‘A garment of some sort?’ He rubbed the coarse cloth between his fingers.
Now there was more light he peered along the wall and noticed something similar wedged between the stones. He went over and gave it a tug. ‘And another?’ He held it up.
Hildegard was puzzled. ‘But aren’t they the little surplices the novices wear?’
‘What on earth is going on?’ He went along the wall and at intervals pulled out more blockages until they held four little garments and the store was filled with light. ‘Why do that?’
It was not only light that flooded in, but air too. A wind from the east rustled a few dead leaves still attached to the apple stalks.
Hildegard’s eyes were round with astonishment. ‘They would know … whoever did this … would know … they must have known that stored apples in large quantities give off noxious fumes …? Don’t you see? Anyone trapped inside the store and unable to get out would, over several hours …’ She glanced at Aelwyn’s body. ‘The slight blue tinge round his mouth and nose makes sense now. They’re signs of asphyxiation. Now we know why … Oh, poor Aelwyn …’
It was deliberate. The words spoken in anger by the woman outside St Mary’s came back to her: They’ve done for him.
‘I think,’ she said, turning to Gregory, ‘we have to accept that we’re faced with a plain case of murder.’
The three of them walked slowly back towards the abbey precinct but did not at once go within.
‘It is assumed,’ Gregory began, ‘that we can be safely left in charge of any inquiries into Aelwyn’s death because we are strangers in ignorance of the factions here within the abbey.’ He looked affronted. ‘And perhaps because we are deemed to be blind as well as stupid.’
‘On which view they were nearly right,’ added Egbert, but he was looking grim rather than amused. ‘We cannot rely on chance any longer. Who?’ he asked. ‘And why?’
It was close to the question that had bothered Hildegard enough to seek them out. ‘I was going to ask why and how,’ she told them. ‘Now we have our answer to the latter, but as to the former … Why Aelwyn?’ Then she recalled the words of Friar John. She explained. ‘But I cannot believe,’ she concluded, ‘that Aelwyn’s support for one poor townswoman could lead to actual murder by someone in the cartel they mentioned. It’s so … it’s so extreme … it makes no sense.’
‘Is the profit this landlord fellow will make from putting up the abbey guests be so much he’s willing to risk hellfire for it?’
‘There’s more to this place than meets the eye,’ Egbert muttered somewhat superfluously. ‘A monk murdered, a coffer of gold gone missing, armed men sent into the town, and now garments belonging to the novices crammed into the air vents.’ He paused. ‘Well, I suppose it might have been a prank and we should get the novices out of the way first before we seek out more likely suspects. Shall we do it now?’
Hildegard left the two monks to use their advantage in being able to go where they chose within the precinct and went to sit in the part of the cloister where guests were allowed.
It was not long before Torold made an appearance. He was looking thoughtfully at the ground when she called to him and had evidently just left the church where the rest of them were being put through their paces in readiness for the requiem mass and, no doubt, discreetly questioned by now about their missing garments.
When he saw who had called him he took one look and ran back towards the church. She got to her feet. He glanced over his shoulder and slipped hurriedly through the west door. Now why … she asked herself, sprinting after him. He had the look of a hunted animal but it was a mistake to try to hide in the church because with its screens separating the laity from the monastics he would have nowhere to hide. By the time she burst in through the door he was backed against the far wall.
‘Torold,’ she began. ‘I just want to—’
But he was off again, dodging round one of the big columns of stone before making a run for the small door to the tower steps. She could hear the scuffing of his boots as he ran pell-mell inside and started to climb.
He can certainly run, she thought as she hurled herself up the steps after him, but he’s got himself into a sure trap. There’s no way out up here. When she reached the top, however, where there was nothing more than a window slit giving a view of the ocean and a closed door on to the walkway between the towers, there was no sign of him.
From outside came the piercing shriek of gulls. It continued deafeningly in a crescendo of avian rage.
In sudden fright she guessed what it meant: he must have gone outside. The builders, Master Buckingham’s men, off celebrating the Twelve Days like everybody else, had left buckets and a short ladder tightly tied down for their return. Climbing over these, Hildegard pushed open the door and stepped out on to the narrow stone ledge running along the inside of the north wall. The only problem, if Torold imagined finding refuge here, was that the wall between here and the tower on the corner of the north transept had not yet been finished. After a few paces it simply stopped.
Gulls with predatory beaks letting forth their outrage at being disturbed swirled about her head as she stepped outside. A glance along the parapet showed that it was empty so she shouted, ‘Torold! Where are you?’
The wind whined between the unfinished crenellations. The gulls stormed and shrieked. But Torold seemed to have vanished like a wraith.
She called again.
Then waited without moving.
The gulls swooped and slid savagely down the air currents, circling and returning, avid for prey.
Far below lay the pavers round the Anglian burial ground.
The wind out here was strong enough to make her fear being tugged from her perch. Carefully she forced herself not to look down again. Close at hand, underneath the high-pitched screams of the gulls, she could hear a sound, almost less than a sound, a breath, no more. It was coming from somewhere above – to the left just above her head where the gulls were circling.
And then she caught a glimpse of the smallest movement. He was on the leads covering the roof directly overhead.
‘Torold,’ she called more encouragingly. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. Why are you hiding?’ It was the second time he had run away, she recalled.
No reply.
‘I know you’re there. And you’ll know how dangerous it is. The builders haven’t finished work. You could fall to your death. Please now, be a sensible boy and come down. You have nothing to fear from me. If you tell me what’s frightened you I can help.’
There was still no answer and she continued to talk, edging closer to where she could get a glimpse of him by moving cautiously along the parapet. All that was visible were his hands and the edge of a cuff. He was gripping on to the calmes between the lengths of lead that had already been put in place and she saw his knuckles whitening with the strain. He must be terrified, she thought. He could slip at any moment.
Quietly she told him about her son Bertram, keeping her voice level, reassuring him that she understood and that he could trust her. She saw the fingers relax and shift position. However, it was not to lower himself down to safety but to edge further away. The gulls did not let up.
She asked, ‘Are you frightened of being punished? I promise you I will never let that happen.’
A croak, a clearing of the voice, then firmly, ‘I did not steal anything, neither garments nor gold. I will not be accused of it.’
‘They cannot accuse you of it. There is no proof. Who accuses you?’
‘The bursar’s clerk.’
‘Let me tell you that I and my brothers from Meaux are in charge over the matter of the garments. We thought it might have been a prank. We think no ill of you. We were appointed by the prior himself to look into this—’
‘That’s what I mean!’ Torold exclaimed. ‘You are all in league!’
‘I can assure you we are only in league with God and the truth. The garments are a part of the matter concerning our aim to find out how Brother Aelwyn was murdered.’
A choking cry came from above. A voice like one she did not recognize croaked, ‘Is that true?’
‘Yes. We found them in the apple-store—’
‘I mean about him being murdered?’
‘Yes, we think that’s how it must have been—’
‘He was going to come and play bandy-sticks with us. And he didn’t come. And he was nowhere around. And then they started to look for him and I went down to tell …’ He changed direction. ‘Who murdered him?’
‘We don’t know that yet. All I can say is that we shall discover the truth if it’s humanly possible. I promise you that.’
‘Are you sure he was murdered?’ he demanded urgently. ‘Is there proof?’
‘If there is we shall find it. And it will lead us to his murderer. Why do you ask? Do you have something to tell me?’
In answer she heard a scrabbling sound and, alarmed, she saw him edging higher up towards the roof ridge. By now the gulls were beginning to circle off in search of easier prey. There was nothing for it.
She had no choice but to climb out and try to coax him back, face to face, or at least get a firm hold of him to prevent him climbing further.
Taller than he was, she found it easy to swing out over the edge of the guttering and hoist herself on to the sloping leads. When she lifted her head he was sitting on the ridge staring down at her, white-faced but determined to remain there as she edged towards him. The wind blustered over the roof top and, afraid it would whisk him from his perch, she stretched out a hand.
‘Torold, come down, I beg you. It is not safe here and I’m afraid you’ll fall and that would be a waste of your precious life.’
He remained mute and immobile.
‘There is no need for this. Whatever is wrong can be put right if we trust in God’s mercy.’
She risked reaching out her hand again to entice him down, but she could not quite touch him. His face was streaming with tears.
‘What is it, my dear child? Whatever it is can surely be put right—’
‘It never can. Never, never!’ He began to sob.
‘Trust me. Such grief can be assuaged. Forgiveness for transgressions can be granted. No-one is ever so far out of God’s grace that they cannot be redeemed.’
‘How can you say that?’ he gulped between sobs.
‘It is my firm hope and belief—’
‘It’s not true!’ he yelled in sudden defiance. ‘His murderer can never be redeemed! Never! Never! Never! He shall burn in hell for all eternity! I shall pray to God to make him suffer!’
Alarmed at the strength of his rage, she stretched for his hand but could not reach. ‘Please, child, I beg you come down—’
‘Never!’ he shouted again. ‘You say he is murdered! How can that be put right? He is gone forever.’ He lifted his face to the sky and began to howl. ‘I am bereft! I want him back. I want him! He was my father!’
He started to cry, passionately and unrestrained, and she realized how young he was despite his usual jaunty adult manner. In reality he was no more than a babe in arms.
But his father?
She gazed up at him in wonder. ‘Brother Aelwyn …?’
‘He was my beloved father! Everyone knows that. They have killed him!’ As his grief took over he loosened his hold on the calmes and began to slip down the roof. Realizing what he had done, he tried to grab on to something but the lead was as smooth as silk and his fall became a headlong slide. Hildegard, horror-stricken, could only watch and brace her feet against the edge of the gutter and reach out both arms as he hurtled helplessly towards her.