Paul Doherty - The Cup of Ghosts

Casales was breathing heavily. He leaned forward, soulless eyes studying me.

‘You may have been surprised,’ I continued, ‘that I didn’t raise the alarm. I can only imagine your astonishment when you discovered who I really was, but by then it was too late. I enjoyed Isabella’s patronage and protection. You and Rossaleti tried to frighten me off outside the death house after I viewed Pourte’s corpse. You dared not kill me. Philip wished to keep his precious daughter mollified. You told Marigny; he must have searched de Vitry’s manuscripts and discovered my true identity. By then it was too late. I was protected by the princess, so they appointed Pelet to her household to watch both her and me.’

‘You murdered him?’

‘Not I, lord.’

‘The princess!’ Casales gasped. ‘I. .’

‘Her father’s true daughter, as Marigny discovered when he tried to question me. If her grace had not been so protective I would have never have left France. As it was, you and Rossaleti attacked me on the steps of the infirmary at St Augustine’s Priory.’

‘We were-’

‘No, it was a winter’s night in a gloomy priory. You were two figures dressed in black robes, flitting like bats through the shadows. You used that lay brother, the simpleton. Rossaleti acted the Benedictine and, to confuse matters, grasped the poor man’s hands. Why should he do that? Well, such simpletons remember touch; he talked of two hands, of their skin being coarse, which meant it could be neither you nor Rossaleti.’

‘And?’

‘Why, Sir John, if you could throw a piece of sacking over me, Rossaleti could use something similar to roughen his hands. You carried out that attack. You were there, Sir John. The feasting at the Chequer of Hope was busy, people coming and going, whilst the distance between the tavern and priory is only a short walk. If you had had your way I would have died then; as it was, I was rescued by Demontaigu.’ I smiled at his surprise. ‘Oh yes, more than one assassin was in the priory that night. During the attack I was pulled and tugged as if two people were forcing me towards the top of those steps. Indeed there were two, you and Rossaleti.’

‘It was Rossaleti. .’

‘He cannot answer. He’s dead, Sir John, because you murdered him. He didn’t take a barge or a boat; he was terrified of the water. You asked to meet him somewhere along that night-shrouded, fogbound Westminster quayside. He’d come down near the water to meet a man he trusted. You acted as swiftly as a plunging hawk or a striking snake, pushing him into the river. The shock alone would have killed him, a short struggle in the freezing water. He lost his life as he had lost his soul.’

‘If he was my accomplice, why should I kill him?’

‘Because you’re an assassin. God knows, Rossaleti may not have had your midnight soul; perhaps he regretted what he’d done. Maybe the dead came back to haunt him. Rossaleti rather liked me. I caught a sadness in his gaze. He may have begun to have scruples. In your eyes, however, he was weak and could not be trusted. He was the only member of the English court who knew the full truth; you judged him and you carried out sentence. Your sinister masters back in Paris would accept that. A few scruples could not be allowed to endanger you or, more importantly, their enterprise.’

Casales rose to his feet, stretched and glanced down the nave. Demontaigu stood, the arbalest primed. From outside came the clash of weapons and a low murmur from the bowmen Ap Ythel was deploying.

‘Why should I kill de Vitry?’

‘Oh, he knew too much about everything and Philip had good reason not to trust him. De Vitry was a good man, a loyal subject, accustomed to royal intrigue but unable to stomach Philip’s wicked attack on the Temple. I suspect he failed to hide that and so he paid the price.’

‘And you lay the other deaths at my door.’

Casales showed no contrition, no regret. Nothing nervous except darting eyes, an occasional wetting of the lips. He was a true soldier, coldly calculating the enemy and what might happen.

‘Of course I do. Baquelle was easy. The tops of those pavilions were vulnerable, even more so stored in a darkened transept. You, Sir John, cloaked and cowled, could slip into the abbey with sword and dagger. You hacked away at those pegs, what, no more than an inch thick? You would flatter Sir John, giving him the position of honour to the right of the sanctuary. You would ensure that the damaged pavilion would be placed there. If Baquelle survived there’d be other occasions, though the coronation was a unique opportunity. The accidental death of the king’s own councillor during such a ceremony! What auguries and omens people could read into that.’

‘My pavilion too. .’

‘Nothing but a subtle ploy to include yourself amongst the list of intended victims, as you did in Paris with the help of Marigny. Do you remember? We journeyed back to the city. You’d informed my mistress and myself that you wished to converse with her about England. You always rode beside us, but on that afternoon you moved to the front of the column. This was to help Marigny’s hirelings when they launched their mock assault. You killed some of them, acting the role of the brave, chivalrous knight. The rest of the coven escaped. They wouldn’t care about the deaths of their comrades; there’d just be more gold to share out when it was handed over by Marigny’s agents.’

Casales bowed his head, shuffling his booted feet.

‘Are you a Templar, Demontaigu?’ Casales’ head came up.

‘What I am, sir,’ Demontaigu replied, ‘is my concern. What you are is being ably proven.’

‘I thought as much.’ Casales’ grim face broke into a smile. ‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘I thought as much, but,’ he leaned forward, ‘what about Wenlok’s death? I was not at his table.’

‘Poisoned!’ I replied. ‘You gave him the potion shortly after he arrived at the palace and then distanced yourself. It was simply a matter of time. You know a great deal about herbs and potions, don’t you, Sir John?’

‘And Pourte?’

‘Ah well,’ I smiled, ‘an apparent accident like my death was supposed to be. All we had was the word of Marigny and his creatures that you and Rossaleti were deep in council with them. Well,’ I shrugged, ‘that’s logical. You and Rossaleti were in Marigny’s pay so of course he would lie for you, two of his own Secreti, whom he was moving deeper and deeper into the counsels of the English crown. In truth, on the night Pourte died, you and Rossaleti visited him. You struck him from behind and threw him out of that window. I suspect you left by the door, which Rossaleti locked; he then used the ladder brought by Marigny’s agents. He climbed down, threw that chain over the wall-bracket, made sure Pourte was dead and rejoined his fellow conspirators.’

‘You’re sharp, Mathilde!’

‘I wish I’d been sharper sooner. You watched me, Sir John, here and in Paris. The other day you knew I’d left the Tower and travelled into the city. How did you know that? I could have gone anywhere. You knew where I went because you were watching and waiting for a fresh opportunity to kill me, just as you nearly did in Paris. You tried to drown me with that barge slipping like a thunderbolt out of the mist. Oh, you may have been with the princess, but you learnt where and when I was going and passed the information on to Marigny’s killers. Two good men died that day, Sir John, two more souls who’ve been crying to God for vengeance.’

Casales glanced sideways as if fearful of Sandewic’s coffin.

‘Ah yes, my good friend.’ I took the knife from my waistband even as Demontaigu came further up the nave. He too had seen Casales move, gather himself as if to attack. My opponent, however, glanced down the nave, sighed deeply and relaxed.