Paul Doherty - The Mysterium

Corbett nodded; he’d seen such a scrap in the archives of the Secret Seal.

‘Then what?’

‘Both Boniface and the merchant were searched. Apart from that note and some coins, nothing else was found on the clerk, but the merchant carried a heavy purse of gold. I remember Evesham weighing it in his hand. He declared that both men were under arrest and they were to accompany him to Newgate. I think it was Newgate.’

‘Not to Westminster?’ Corbett asked.

‘No, sir, it was definitely to Newgate, or the Fleet. I am sure it was Newgate. So we left.’

‘Did Evesham bind his prisoners?’ Ranulf asked.

‘I offered to do that, but Boniface objected and so did the merchant. They maintained that whatever they were being accused of, they had not been indicted. Evesham accepted this; after all, he had a heavy guard. Some of my companions went back by barge, and the rest followed Evesham and Engleat across London Bridge. We ringed the two prisoners.’

‘How did they behave?’

‘Both men were crestfallen, rather frightened; they no longer protested. The merchant glared at Boniface but he seemed locked in his own thoughts. We left the bridge and made our way along Thames Street and up towards St Paul’s. As we reached Milk Street, neither prisoner offering resistance, the crowd surged around us, and that is when it happened. Boniface appeared to slip, going down on one knee.’

‘Who was next to him?’

‘I don’t know, sir. At one time he and Evesham were walking by themselves. Anyway, there was confusion. You know what it’s like, we bailiffs are not liked. There were catcalls, some refuse thrown. Apprentices darted in trying to sell things. There were beggars, cunning men, street prowlers, pimps and their whores, people who revel in a commotion. As I said, Boniface went down on one knee as if he’d slipped, and suddenly he was gone, fast as a whippet. He snaked through the line of bailiffs into the crowd, and you can imagine what happened.’

Corbett nodded. People always felt sorry for a prisoner, hence escape was common.

‘The hue and cry were raised.’ Osbert paused.

‘Continue,’ Corbett demanded.

‘Well, we cried, “Harrow! Harrow!” and tried to pursue, but of course our path was blocked. Boniface was a fairly young man, swift on his feet. He went down an alleyway and disappeared. We followed and caught sight of him. He was fleeing across St Botulph’s cemetery, then he entered the church.’ Osbert shrugged. ‘We knew the law. We didn’t want to be excommunicated. A man who has taken sanctuary has taken sanctuary. Our job was finished.’

‘And Evesham?’

‘He organised the pursuit. When Boniface reached St Botulph’s he was beside himself with rage. He tongue-lashed us for being incompetent, cursed us and said he wished he’d bound both captives.’

‘And the merchant?’ Ranulf asked.

‘Oh, he tried to escape in the confusion, but he was seized, bound and safely lodged in Newgate.’

‘And at St Botulph’s?’ asked Corbett. ‘What happened there, apart from Evesham cursing and shouting?’

‘He told us not to disperse but to guard the four doors, the main one, the corpse door, the Galilee porch on the north side and the sacristy door. We examined the windows in both the tower and the church itself; these were too narrow for any man to push himself through. We thought this was an ordinary case of sanctuary. The fugitive would stay there for forty days then either flee, give himself up or agree to be taken to the nearest port and sent to foreign parts, if he survived the walk.’ The old man ran a finger around his mouth and smacked his lips.

Corbett whispered to Ranulf, who rose, filled a wine cup and handed it over. Osbert smiled, raised it in a toast and took a deep gulp.

‘Evesham?’

‘Evesham and Engleat were like men possessed, and only then did we realise that the fugitive was such an important prisoner. The two of them went into the church. By then the priest had appeared, and he made it very clear that Boniface Ippegrave had taken sanctuary and that whilst he remained in the church, Evesham and Engleat must do nothing about it. Then. .’ Osbert turned and gestured at Sandewic, who snatched the wine cup from the former bailiff and finished the wine, smacking his lips and grinning at Corbett before taking up the story.

‘I was at the Tower. I received a message from Evesham that an important prisoner had fled for sanctuary, so I brought guards, some soldiers and archers as well as a few market beadles I collected on the way. Sir Hugh, we ringed that church. A mouse couldn’t leave. All four doors were carefully guarded. We even got ladders and put people on the roof. We inspected the tower, whilst the priest assured us that no secret passageway, crypt or cellar existed.’

‘And who approached the church?’

‘I think you know, Sir Hugh.’

‘Boniface’s sister?’

‘But she was refused entry,’ Sandewic replied.

‘Anyone else?’

‘Your two colleagues, Lord Staunton and Master Blandeford.’

By the sly grin on Sandewic’s face, Corbett could see that the constable had no love for either of them.

‘They also wanted to see Boniface, but Evesham was hot and choleric. He said it was none of their business and no one could see the prisoner. Apart from Evesham and Engleat, the only person allowed in was Parson Tunstall, who brought food or took out the jakes pot to be emptied. No one else entered. On the morning of the third day, Evesham followed the priest into the church, and they found that Boniface had disappeared. And to answer your next question, Sir Hugh, I don’t know how, when or why. I’ve never seen the likes before, a man vanishing off the face of God’s earth.’

‘You’re sure each door was guarded?’

‘Sir Hugh, the cemetery of St Botulph’s thronged with armed men. Evesham had sent letters to the King; by then royal men-at-arms and hobelars had joined us.’

‘It’s a sprawling cemetery, isn’t it?’ Corbett mused. He paused as Chanson slipped back through the door, nodded and sat down on his stool.

‘Yes, it is, but I repeat, no one left that church.’ Sandewic turned and watched Ranulf’s sharpened quill pen skimming across the creamy surface of the vellum.

‘Master Osbert,’ Corbett smiled, ‘I am very grateful for your attention to these matters. Is there anything else you can remember that might help solve this mystery?’

The old man shook his head.

‘Tell me, Sir Ralph,’ Corbett continued, ‘after the recent affray in Newgate, the escaped prisoners took refuge at St Botulph’s. Why did they choose that church?’

The constable blew his lips out. ‘Sir Hugh, I don’t know. One of the reasons people take sanctuary there is that it is strong as a castle. There are no secret entrances and it is well fortified and easy to defend, as we found to our cost.’

Corbett agreed and thanked both Sandewic and Osbert. He waited until the door closed behind them and then banged the table in exasperation.

‘Chanson,’ he raised his voice, ‘tell Lord Staunton, Master Blandeford and Lapwing I want words with them.’

A short while later all three entered. Staunton, gathering his cloak about him, brimmed with rage at being summoned back. Corbett ignored this, not even offering them a chair.

‘Sir Hugh, I thought we were finished?’

‘My lord, I am not finished. When I am finished I will tell you. I have now established,’ Corbett pointed at Lapwing, ‘that this clerk works for you, yes?’

Staunton nodded. Corbett glanced quickly at Lapwing, who stood confident and poised. Could he be a killer with his own private grievances? wondered Corbett.

‘Sir Hugh, what do you want with us?’ Staunton asked.