Paul Doherty - The Waxman Murders

‘His ship was attacked by The Waxman . My kinsman was his widowed mother’s only son. Blackstock took no prisoners; the ship and all its crew simply disappeared off the face of the earth.’

‘And revenge?’ Corbett asked.

‘What revenge, Sir Hugh? Blackstock is dead. Hubert has disappeared. My cousin’s death was one of those tragedies; there are many in the city of Canterbury who have suffered similar.’

‘And there is no other link or connection between you and The Waxman ?’

Warfeld pulled a face and shook his head.

‘Though you didn’t tell me that at the beginning?’

‘Sir Hugh, you didn’t ask.’

Corbett half smiled. ‘Very well, very well.’ He tapped the table. ‘Were Sir Rauf and Lady Adelicia ever shriven by you?’

‘Yes,’ Warfeld replied. ‘At Easter or thereabouts, as canon law dictates. Sir Hugh, I cannot break the seal of confession.’

‘I’m not asking you to. Their marriage was sterile, loveless?’

Warfeld nodded. ‘From the little I know.’

‘Was Sir Rauf impotent?’

‘Sir Hugh, Desroches and I have spoken on that. I was his priest, not his physician.’ Corbett sensed the good parson knew more, but decided not to press the matter.

‘Did you know Lady Adelicia had a lover?’

Warfeld’s eyes slid away. Corbett studied this priest, fresh-faced, plump, well fed, with a glib tongue for ready answers. Warfeld stared down at the tabletop. Corbett realised how they were both circled by pools of light from the candelabra, and beyond that was the darkness, threatening, quiet, concealing the truth about what had happened in this dreadful house.

‘Parson Warfeld, I asked you a question. You are on oath. Did the Lady Adelicia have a lover?’

‘I’ve told you the rumours,’ the priest replied grudgingly. ‘She was seen at The Chequer of Hope, as was Wendover, captain of the city guard.’ Warfeld joined his hands as if in prayer. ‘Sir Hugh, I can join with Desroches and speculate about Sir Rauf and Lady Adelicia, but I cannot tell you facts. Canon law very clearly states a confessor must be prudent-’

‘Very good,’ Corbett interrupted, ‘but there were rumours that Lady Adelicia had a lover, and Wendover was the man named?’

‘Yes, but no one dared speak about it. Sir Rauf could be a vicious man. He may only have had Lechlade as a servant, but if he wanted to, he could whistle up bully boys from the city.’

‘Did you know anything about Decontet’s past?’

‘No, only that he was born in Canterbury. He prospered, he used the riches of this life to buy the world and so lose his immortal soul.’ The priest shrugged.

‘And on the day he died, that Thursday, where were you?’

‘I have told you, I was in my church. A boy burst in; he said he’d been sent by Physician Desroches and that there was something very wrong at Sir Rauf’s house so I must come swiftly. I gathered my cloak, put on some boots — the weather was cold as I remember — and hurried over.’

‘And when you arrived?’

‘Desroches and Lechlade were inside the house — standing in the porch. Sir Rauf’s chamber was locked. Desroches hammered on it but there was no answer. We made the decision to break down the door. Desroches told us to concentrate on the hinges. Lechlade had informed us about the lock, how it was special and its key held only by Sir Rauf. We snapped the hinges, forced the door and entered the chamber. It was confusing. The door itself had slipped out of the lock so it had to be held, then leaned against the wall. Candles were burning, though some had guttered out. Sir Rauf lay on the floor, face towards his desk. The base of his skull,’ Parson Warfeld tapped the back of his own head, ‘was smashed, the blood forming like a puddle around him. I did what I could. I whispered the words of absolution, the rite of the dead, then we waited. Oh yes, we did search the house, but we discovered no further disturbance. We tried Lady Adelicia’s chamber and found it locked, then she returned and came into Sir Rauf’s chancery chamber. By then Desroches had sent for Castledene, who also arrived.’

‘Tell me precisely,’ Corbett demanded, ‘what happened.’

‘Well, Lady Adelicia and her maid were riding palfries. They came through the main gate and on to the forecourt. Lechlade went out to help them dismount and brought them in. Desroches told her the news. Lady Adelicia did not seem very upset. She viewed the corpse and answered the Mayor’s questions — or tried to. Sir Walter examined her cloak-’

‘Why?’

‘He said that was the procedure to be followed.’

‘And where was the cloak?’

‘In Sir Rauf’s chancery chamber.’

‘And?’

‘Bloodstains were found. Sir Walter asked Lady Adelicia where the blood might have come from. She replied that perhaps she may have passed a flesher’s stall or brushed a wall in the shambles and stained it. Sir Walter insisted that we visit her chamber.’

‘And who had keys to that?’

‘Ah yes, I remember that well.’ Warfeld’s fingers fluttered to his lips. ‘When we found Sir Rauf, we also found a keyring on his belt. Lechlade recognised that. Three keys in all: one to his coffer, one to his own chamber held only by him, and the third to his wife’s, but we didn’t force that door. We thought it would be improper until Lady Adelicia returned.’

‘And Lady Adelicia had her own key?’

‘Yes, Sir Walter insisted that we go to her chamber and search it. By then she was under suspicion. We went up. Lady Adelicia unlocked the door and we entered. We found a napkin stained with dried blood lying on the floor, as if dropped in a hurry. Lady Adelicia proclaimed her innocence and denied any knowledge of it. Castledene ordered the room to be searched, and more bloodstained napkins were found behind the bolsters on her bed. Sir Walter immediately took her into his care as his prisoner, saying she would have to return with him to the Guildhall. After that,’ Warfeld shrugged, ‘the rest you know.’

‘And why did Desroches go to the house?’

‘Sir Hugh, I don’t know. He was Sir Rauf’s physician.’

‘Specially hired by him?’

‘I think so, but you’d best ask him. Sir Rauf spoke highly of him. That was one thing Sir Rauf cared about: his own health. No physician dislikes gold, Sir Hugh, and Sir Rauf could be generous when he wanted, or when it suited him.’

‘Was Desroches a constant visitor?’

Warfeld pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘Not that I know of. He was simply his physician. I think he visited both Sir Rauf and Lady Adelicia. I know little more except one thing. .’

‘What?’ Corbett asked.

Ranulf’s quill squeaked as it raced across the parchment.

‘Lady Adelicia’s journeys to Canterbury were fairly common, at least once a week. Now, Sir Hugh, I am parson of St Alphege, and one of our problems is mice.’ He smiled. ‘I have more mice than I have parishioners. I wage constant war against them. Now and again I go out for a walk to get away from their squeaking, the dirt between the benches. God’s fresh air can be so soothing. I walk across the wasteland. Sometimes I’d see Lady Adelicia leave, but on occasion I would glimpse her young maid, Berengaria, come hurrying back.’

‘On foot?’ Corbett asked.

‘Oh yes. I mean, the journey into Canterbury is not far. Lady Adelicia liked to ride there. From what I gather, they would both stable their horses in a nearby tavern and go on to The Chequer of Hope. Lady Adelicia acted foolishly. She thought she was in disguise but people could see through that. If you go back to the same place regularly, it’s only a matter of time before tongues begin to clack.’

‘But you sometimes glimpsed Berengaria hurrying back?’