Paul Doherty - Corpse Candle

The Concilium of St Martin’s-in-the-Marsh was meeting in the Star Chamber, a large room at the centre of the abbey building. It had its name because of the gold stars on the lime-painted walls whilst similar emblems were carved on the stone floor. A spacious, circular chamber with windows looking out over every aspect of the abbey: a place of solemn conferrings and council. However, on that morning, the feast of St Clement the Martyr, confusion and chaos reigned. Taverner’s corpse had been found slumped on an abbey path. The arrow which had killed him had passed almost clean through his body. Of course that interfering royal clerk had taken over and the corpse had been taken to the death house.

Prior Cuthbert declared he’d convoked this meeting of the Concilium to discuss the deteriorating situation. For the first time since it had happened, Prior Cuthbert deeply regretted Abbot Stephen’s death and wished he could exercise the authority of his late, if not lamented, superior. The principal officers of the abbey clustered round the oak table staring up at him. They were led by Aelfric the infirmarian, Cuthbert’s bitter rival. Now Abbot Stephen had departed this life, such intense rivalries were beginning to surface. Aelfric, with his red nose and watery eyes, sat, tight-lipped, next to his henchman, Brother Richard the almoner.

‘Father Prior,’ Brother Richard led the attack, ‘things are not going well. We have royal emissaries prowling our abbey whilst the number of corpses increases daily.’

‘Listen! Listen!’ Prior Cuthbert held up his hand. ‘Abbot Stephen died, we don’t know how or why. He was stabbed. Gildas’s murder is also a mystery. Now Taverner has been killed too but whose fault is that? Moreover, we cannot oppose the royal clerk. If we did, the King himself may come here, or worse, we might be summoned to appear before him in Norwich, or even in London. Do you want that?’

‘We want these hideous deaths stopped!’ Brother Richard snapped. ‘And the clerks to go about their business. To be frank, Father Prior, matters are going from bad to worse.’

‘And there’s the question of the guesthouse,’ Aelfric spoke up. ‘Now Abbot Stephen is dead, why can’t the building work begin? The tumulus or burial mound can be levelled. We could even open it up and see what’s inside.’

‘That would be inappropriate!’ Prior Cuthbert retorted. ‘An unseemly haste and a lack of reverence for Abbot Stephen’s memory: the rest of the community would not like it.’

‘That’s true,’ Brother Francis the librarian spoke up. ‘We really should wait for the new abbot.’ He smiled dreamily at Cuthbert. ‘Whoever that may be?’

The monks sat in silence. Prior Cuthbert smoothed the top of the table with his fingers. Matters were not going to plan. Abbot Stephen had said that Bloody Meadow would never be built upon as long as he was leader of this community. Now, even dead, he still remained Father Abbot. Did his ghost haunt these buildings? It was possible, with his unseemly interest in demonic possessions. On one matter Prior Cuthbert was quietly relieved: Taverner, Abbot Stephen’s protege, was dead. The man had been a nuisance and would have posed problems. What could they have done with him?

‘Father Prior?’ Aelfric asked softly. ‘What do you counsel? What is your advice?’

Prior Cuthbert glared malevolently back.

‘Perhaps we should be more honest,’ Aelfric declared, pushing back the sleeves of his robe.

‘Honest? What do you mean by that?’

‘About Abbot Stephen’s death! We all know about your plans for Bloody Meadow.’

Prior Cuthbert jabbed a finger at him. ‘And you were party to those plans!’

‘Are you implying that Abbot Stephen’s death was caused by one of us?’ Brother Richard demanded. ‘We might be holy men but we cannot go through locked doors or walls!’

‘I have looked at that door,’ Aelfric retorted. ‘Perhaps the hinges were loosened?’

His sallow cheeks blushed as the other monks guffawed with laughter.

‘And why did Gildas die?’ the infirmarian almost screeched. ‘Brother Aelfric, spit out what you are saying!’

‘Gildas was your confidant, Prior! His fingers positively itched to build that guesthouse. He lived, dreamed and drank what he called his vision. You supported him in that. How often did we sit here as you hectored Father Abbot?’

‘I didn’t hector him.’ Prior Cuthbert tried to control his anger; he could see Aelfric was losing his temper. He was just pleased Corbett wasn’t present.

‘And there’s the other matter!’

Cuthbert’s heart sank. Aelfric leaned on the table.

‘What other matter, Brother?’

‘You know full well! We all do: Sir Eustace’s codicil.’

Prior Cuthbert’s throat went dry. Aelfric was now pointing at him, a skeletal finger wagging the air. Cuthbert wanted to stretch forward, grasp and snap it.

‘We all know about Sir Eustace’s codicil,’ Cuthbert explained. ‘We all agreed to keep it from Abbot Stephen, though of course we would have told him eventually.’

‘I found it, you know,’ Brother Francis the librarian spoke up, ‘in a book of charters high in the library.’

‘We haven’t had it tested,’ Prior Cuthbert declared. ‘We all recognise,’ he continued, ‘that Sir Eustace Harcourt founded this abbey. If the document that Brother Francis discovered is genuine, then we own not only Falcon Brook but the meadows lying on the other side of it, which are still part of Lady Margaret’s estate. However, the charter is old; it bears no seal so it cannot be verified.’

‘There may be a copy at Westminster?’

‘Why didn’t you show it to Abbot Stephen?’ Aelfric demanded.

‘Because we all decided on that. Of course,’ Prior Cutbert added slowly, ‘I can only speak for myself.’ He looked for help from Hamo and Dunstan the treasurer but they sat silent. ‘I mean,’ Cuthbert continued, ‘one of us could have told Abbot Stephen?’

‘Did you tell Lady Margaret Harcourt?’ Aelfric retorted.

Prior Cuthbert squirmed in his chair.

‘You did, didn’t you?’ Hamo, sitting on his left, leaned forward, hands joined as if in prayer.

‘I didn’t tell her. I simply hinted that if we built the guesthouse, she could either concede gracefully to our demands or there might be another way.’

‘You did that!’ Hamo hissed. ‘Lady Margaret’s dislike for Abbot Stephen was well known. Could she be behind these murders? Did the mention of some secret codicil tip her into killing?’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous!’ Prior Cuthbert snapped. ‘No woman is allowed in this abbey.’

‘Father Prior, I know the rule of St Benedict as well as you do. Just because a woman is not allowed in our abbey, doesn’t mean they are not welcome.’

Prior Cuthbert stared in disbelief. The Star Chamber had fallen silent. Hamo was hinting at something.

‘We have pilgrims,’ the almoner declared. ‘Travellers, their wives, the womenfolk of merchants. .? And we also have mysterious visitors at night.’ Hamo was now enjoying himself.

‘Impossible!’ Prior Cuthbert snapped.

‘Is it really?’ Hamo stared up at the ceiling. ‘We all know about Brother Gildas: a man who found it difficult to sleep at night. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one?’

‘Oh, come to the point!’

‘Our abbey is a large, sprawling place,’ Hamo continued. ‘We have a gatehouse but there are small postern doors, not to mention the Judas Gate. Gildas could never stay still. Remember, he was always first in the abbey church to sing the divine office. Anyway, at night he often used to go for a walk. Now, the rule is that a monk, if he meets another monk at night, simply whispers “ Pax Vobiscum ” and offers a blessing. Gildas claimed that, on two occasions, he passed a robed, cowled figure who did not respond to his blessing, whilst he also caught a faint trace of perfume.’