Paul Doherty: The Mysterium

‘Did you know about Evesham’s secret life, his nefarious activities under the cloak of night?’

‘Sir Hugh, I knew very little. Sir Walter was always smiling, though I would use the word smirking. He could be free with his hands. I often glimpsed him staring hotly at me. On one occasion he tried to seduce me, but I pushed him away. I threatened to tell his wife but I never did, I hadn’t the heart. She seemed happy enough. Sir Walter always gave the impression that he’d married beneath him, but that was part of his sneering attitude. He liked to show how clever and subtle he was, how highly regarded in the chancery at Westminster.

‘Lady Emma and I were often invited to this banquet or that, and it was at one of these that I met Boniface Ippegrave. He was a good clerk, Sir Hugh; who knows, he may have risen to the same high position as yourself. He was clever, industrious, witty and kind. He had a passion for gambling, but he was good at it. On one occasion he took me aside and showed me his winnings, a heavy purse of gold.’

‘And you believed him?’

‘Yes, I did, as I have always believed that he was no killer. I knew Boniface Ippegrave. I slept with him. He had a good heart and a pure soul; he was a man of honour, someone dedicated to the truth. That is why I am confessing now, not because I am frightened of pain or disgrace.’ She leaned over and squeezed her son’s arm. ‘It is also the time for the truth. I made one hideous mistake, as did the Lady Emma. We never really understood the depths of Evesham’s wickedness. Oh, I wondered about him, but I always put it down to chancery business, why he would slip out after dark for this secret meeting or that, why night-walkers visited the house.’

‘You mean the likes of Giles Waldene and Hubert the Monk?’

‘Yes, on a number of occasions I saw them in his company. I wasn’t supposed to, but after his attempted seduction, I kept a very sharp eye on Evesham and all his doings.’

‘But you never knew his true relationship with them?’

‘Never! Don’t you, sir,’ she asked archly, ‘have your own confidants amongst the wolfsheads and outlaws of Westminster? I thought Walter Evesham had the same.’

‘Until when?’

‘Until the day my mistress was killed. We went to visit an almshouse. As I said, Lady Emma had a kind heart. She always protested that she had more than enough and was ever prepared to share the rest with the poor. Darkness was falling, a mist-hung evening. We were hurrying along a runnel when I heard Lady Evesham’s name called. She turned, pushing back her hood, then they were on us, daggers flashing. They were cowled and visored, but I recognised the bottom half of Hubert the Monk’s ugly face.’

‘How did you escape?’

‘Because of Lady Emma. I was surprised, Sir Hugh. I knew she was kind, but on that evening she also showed her brave heart. She told me to flee, and God forgive me, I did, a sin that has always haunted me. My mistress was kneeling down, and both men were standing over her. As I said, it was misty, the light was poor. I was only a slip of a girl. I panicked and fled into the night.’ She paused. ‘Even as I ran, I realised Evesham might have had a hand in that attack; those men were waiting for us. I had some silver on me, I took a wherry downriver to Westminster. Boniface was there. I told him what had happened. At first he refused to believe me, but when the news seeped through of Lady Evesham’s death, he hid me away and our relationship began. Boniface was just and true. At first I thought I could hide until Evesham forgot me. Then the Mysterium emerged and the murders began. Boniface would come home and discuss the problem with me. He believed the assassin must be a high-ranking clerk, someone who sifted the gossip of the city. He cast his net wide and far.’ She smiled thinly. ‘Do you know, Sir Hugh, he even mentioned you. He called you the silent one, who always watched and said very little, a junior clerk with great promise.’

‘I served then in the Chancery of the Green Wax. Mistress, do continue.’

‘Boniface brought Evesham under close scrutiny. He was clever; he would slip out at night and began to see and hear things about Evesham. Yet strange as it is, he had a liking for the man. Engleat, though, he called an evil presence, Evesham’s malevolent shadow.’ She paused.

‘Mistress?’

‘God forgive me. I encouraged him in such thoughts. When I served Lady Emma, Engleat was like a malignant shadow forever hovering about. A viper of a man who seemed to have no love for women except, according to household rumour, the costliest strumpets in Cheapside.’

‘Evesham, Engleat, they must have searched for you?’

‘Boniface was clever. He openly lodged with his sister but he hired secret lodgings for me in Paternoster Row. Because of what he earned, as well as his gambling, he was able to furnish good chambers, warm and snug.You guessed correctly. I assumed another name, Mathilda. I was always very skilled with the needle and I made good silver as a seamstress. Time passed. Boniface became busy on this task or that, but what he called Evesham’s web truly fascinated him. He came to realise that Evesham seemed to exercise power and influence well beyond Westminster. He couldn’t really decide between Engleat and Evesham; was it an unholy alliance? Was Evesham really innocent of any wrongdoing? Was Engleat the guilty one? Or did Evesham just turn a blind eye to his companion’s malice? He played with the problem as any scholar would a vexed question of logic, constructing puzzles, composing verses-’

‘I stand in the centre, guiltless,’ Corbett interrupted, ‘and point to the four corners.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Beatrice replied, ‘that was one of them. Boniface, however, was determined on one conclusion. He truly believed that through Evesham and Engleat he could unmask the Mysterium. He never really told me the details, though he listed names, possibilities. He kept going back to the death of Lady Evesham and those involved. He believed Coroner Fleschner could have done more, and wondered if that official was in the pay of, or being blackmailed by, Engleat, Evesham or both of them. In the days before Boniface’s death-’

‘So you were certain that he was killed?’ Corbett asked.

‘Boniface would never desert me. In those last days he became frenetically busy, so absorbed with the problem I did not tell him I was enceinte, expecting a child. Then it happened. Rumours swept the ward about how Boniface Ippegrave, arrested in Southwark, had fled to St Botulph’s in Cripplegate. I wanted to visit him, but he had warned me to be very wary, especially of Engleat. I did come down here but the church was closely guarded by soldiers and bailiffs. I became frightened and went into hiding, and then Boniface disappeared. Oh, I heard the rumours, the gossip and the chatter, which over the weeks gradually faded. In my heart I knew Boniface was dead. If he had survived, if he had escaped, he would have come back to me.’ Her voice shook. I grew deeply concerned for myself,’ she stretched across and grasped Lapwing’s arm, ‘and for my unborn child. I fled to a distant kinswoman in Winchester, where Stephen was born. I took yet another name and professed to be a widow, and an old wool merchant, wealthy and kind, asked for my hand in marriage. He accepted Stephen as his own, educated him, sent him to the schools then on to the halls of Oxford. .’

‘Do you think,’ Ranulf demanded, ‘that Evesham suspected Boniface was sheltering you? Was that another reason he turned on him?’

‘Perhaps,’ Beatrice murmured, ‘but what danger would I be to Evesham? A maid who’d fled when her mistress was murdered.’

‘So tell me, mistress,’ Corbett intervened. ‘You are on oath. I ask you, on your loyalty to the King, have you ever told any other living person apart from your son what you have just confessed to me?’