Paul Doherty - Murder Wears a Cowl

He had to wait almost an hour in a nearby tavern until Cade’s duties were done then they all made their way to St Lawrence Jewry. Maltote, now fully awake, eagerly whispered with Ranulf how pleased the Lady Mary would be when she woke up and found the roses. Corbett overheard them and hoped she would, otherwise Ranulf could find himself alongside the felons they had just left in the stocks. He stole a glance at Cade who was still quiet and rather nervous.

‘I must ask you some questions, Alexander,’ Corbett whispered so that Ranulf and Maltote could not overhear.

‘Such as?’

‘Did you know any more of the girls who were killed?’

Cade shook his head and stared away.

When they reached St Lawrence Jewry, Cade summoned the fat little priest who, protesting at the early hour, opened the small death house, grumbling that he was tired of having to bury one whore after another. He only shut up when Cade brutally reminded him that the city paid him good silver for his services. Corbett took one quick look at the corpse inside, the great purple slash across her neck, the horrible mutilations in the groin, and walked back into the fresh air.

‘I agree with you, Priest!’ he called out, ‘Having to look at seventeen such corpses would try the patience of a saint!’

The priest, still wary of Corbett since their last meeting, shook his head.

‘Sixteen!’ he squeaked. ‘She is the sixteenth!’

Corbett noticed Cade’s face suddenly pale.

‘No, no,’ Corbett queried. ‘She is the seventeenth victim, or eighteenth if we include the Lady Somerville.’

The priest shrugged and waddled back into his house; he returned, carrying a huge, purple-dyed ledger.

‘This is the church’s burial book,’ he explained, opening the yellowing pages. He turned to the back. ‘Here are those given a pauper’s grave. I have starred the names of the victims — the whores killed over the last few months.’

Corbett took the book and scanned the pathetic entries. An old man who had died in the stocks; a young boy who had fallen from a belfry; a tinker killed in Floodgate Lane. Interspersed with these, each with a star next to the name, were the prostitutes who had been killed. Corbett walked away, ignoring the priest’s protests. He placed the book on top of a crumbling tombstone, took from his wallet the list of victims provided by the under-sheriff and compared the two. Cade now stood far away with his back turned, whilst Maltote and Ranulf lounged against the wall watching the sun rise. Corbett scrutinised both lists carefully. He then closed the book and gave it back to the priest.

‘Thank you, Father. You will probably never know how valuable that book is. Ranulf! Maltote!’ he called. ‘Stay where you are! Master Cade, come with me!’

Whilst the priest scurried away Corbett led Cade around to the back of the church. Once alone, Corbett pushed the under-sheriff against the wall, one hand grasping Cade’s throat, the other pushing a dagger tip into the soft part of the under-sheriff’s neck just under his right ear.

‘Now, Master Cade,’ Corbett whispered. ‘No lies, no fables. What’s gone on here? Eh? According to your list, a whore named Judith, living in Floodgate Lane, was supposed to have been killed six weeks ago!’

The under-sheriff’s mouth opened and closed. Corbett banged his head gently against the wall.

‘Don’t lie, Master Cade. You are responsible for all burials. What happened to this woman’s corpse?’ Corbett smiled thinly. ‘Oh, by the way, you’re well known by the prostitutes in the city.’

Cade gasped. ‘I’ll tell you,’ he grated. ‘Take your hand away and sheath your knife, Sir Hugh. Sooner or later the truth would be out.’

Corbett sheathed his knife and put it away as Maltote and Ranulf suddenly appeared.

‘I told you to wait!’ Corbett shouted. ‘Now, go back!’

The under-sheriff, rubbing his neck, crouched on a stone plinth jutting out from the church wall.

‘Yes, yes,’ he began. ‘I knew some of the murdered girls. I am a bachelor, Sir Hugh. All I have are the clothes on my back and the fees of my office. I take no bribes, I never look the other way but, like any man, I get lonely. The blood boils within me and a fair face and a soft body, any face, any body will be solace enough. I knew the last girl, Hawisa, as well as others, Mabel, Rosamund, Gennora, but Judith was my favourite. You see, Master Corbett, she was attacked but not killed. I took care of her but put her name on that list to protect her.’

‘You what?’ Corbett gasped. ‘You mean to say there is a girl still living who survived an attack by this insane killer?’

‘She saw very little,’ the under-sheriff muttered. ‘She was frightened. She threatened she would tell others what she knew about me and other city officials unless she was protected.’

‘So where is she now?’

‘I lodged her at the Friars Minoresses near the Tower. The good sisters agreed to look after her.’ Cade wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘That is until I raise enough money to send her south to one of the Cinque Ports.’

‘Well, Master Cade, we’d best go there.’

They collected a mystified Ranulf and Maltote and made their way down to the Guildhall where they borrowed horses to continue their journey through the half-waking streets to Aldersgate and out into open countryside. They turned south through lush fields, past dairy farms to where the grey flagstoned building of the Friars Minoresses lay nestling amongst woods and fields.

The Sisters, who followed the rule of St Clare, were welcoming enough, always eager to see visitors, especially males. They fussed and clucked round Corbett’s party like a group of mother hens. The clerk had to pay the usual courtesies of joining them in the small refectory for bread and ale before Cade asked to see ‘his dear sister, Judith’, in one of the guest rooms.

The good Sisters agreed but Corbett caught their coy glances and hidden smiles. Whatever the under-sheriff claimed, the nuns were not as innocent as they seemed and had more than a vague idea of Judith’s true calling. A young novice was immediately despatched to prepare the girl. Ranulf and Maltote were left in the cloister gardens with strict orders to behave themselves and Corbett and Cade went to the white-washed cell where Judith was waiting. She was a plump, red-headed, pleasant-looking girl, dressed in a dark brown smock, tied closely at the neck. She greeted Cade warmly, kissing him on both cheeks and pressing his hand, but the dark rings round her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

‘The nuns still think I am your sister,’ she said pertly.

‘And why do they think you are here?’ Corbett asked.

‘You know who I am, sir, but who are you?’ she retorted archly.

Corbett smiled, apologised and introduced himself.

‘And now my question?’ he repeated.

‘The nuns,’ Cade intervened, ‘think Judith is my sister who was attacked by a house breaker.’

‘And the truth?’

The girl smiled and looked away. ‘I am Master Cade’s doxy,’ she replied. ‘I had a chamber above a shop in Floodgate Lane. Master Cade used to visit me there. I had,’ she continued, her voice rising, betraying a faint sing-song accent, ‘I had other friends. I lived a good life. I heard of the murders but I thought someone was settling a grudge.’ She sat down on the room’s one and only stool. ‘Then one night,’ she continued, ‘I came back late and climbed the outside stairs to my chamber. I often left my door open for my pet cat. I went in and lit a candle. I had a large cupboard, a gift from a carpenter, where I hung my gowns. I heard a sound and, because I couldn’t see the cat, thought the poor animal had got trapped inside.’ Judith stopped speaking and laced her fingers together. ‘I’ll never forget it,’ she whispered. ‘I picked up the candle and opened the cupboard door. I think it was the candle which saved me. I saw a dark figure, the glint of steel and, as I stepped back, the knife cut me.’ The girl undid the lacing at the neck of her dress and pulled it low to reveal a long, angry red welt which ran from shoulder to shoulder beneath her neck. ‘I screamed even as the blood pumped out, then I swooned. Someone must have heard me. Master Cade was sent for.’ She glanced up at Corbett. ‘I think you know the rest?’