Paul Doherty: Bloodstone

‘Oh, by the way, Crispin,’ Theobald called, ‘your eyes?’

‘Just the same,’ the clerk replied. ‘We’re all growing old, master physician.’

Cranston waited for Crispin’s footsteps to fade then clapped his hands.

‘Friar, we’ve finished here, yes?’

‘We certainly have and found nothing,’ Athelstan agreed. ‘Only the wine, the flagon, cup and sweetmeats remain. Master Theobald, don’t forget to take them away.’

‘And eat them?’ the physician protested.

‘Nonsense.’ Athelstan laughed. ‘You have a cellar plagued by rats? Put the sweetmeats and the wine down there, you’ll soon discover if they are tainted. Oh, by the way, did you examine Kilverby’s fingertips?’

‘Nothing but ink and wine,’ the physician replied wearily. ‘No trace of any noxious potion.’

Flaxwith appeared in the doorway.

‘Ah, Flaxwith.’ Athelstan waited until the physician, carrying jug, goblet and silver bowl, stomped off, grumbling under his breath about payment. ‘Flaxwith, with Sir John’s permission, I want you, whilst we are questioning our hosts in the solar, to have this door repaired. Once it is, I want it locked, barred and firmly sealed with the Lord Coroner’s signet so that no one can enter. Do you understand?’

‘Athelstan?’ Cranston queried.

‘Nothing is to leave this chamber. No one is to enter once Sir John and I have adjourned to the solar. Come on.’ Athelstan waved. ‘Sir John, the hours pass.’

A short while later Cranston, Athelstan sitting beside him, stared round this wealthy family. Edmond Pulick had now joined Alesia. He was friendly-faced with sandy hair and a snub nose above a smiling mouth. Pleasant and discreet, Athelstan considered, though with sharp eyes. The precise way Pulick acted showed he was a merchant through and through, ready to assess and weigh everything in the balance. Athelstan studied the rest. Each nursed their own soul, which was full of what? God’s grace or murder, hatred, revenge or even just the love of killing? Certainly one of them was an assassin. Athelstan then smiled and mentally murmured ‘Mea culpa’ for his rushed judgement as Cranston’s first question revealed that others may well be involved.

‘Who gave Sir Robert the dish of sweetmeats?’

‘Not us,’ Crispin replied swiftly. ‘Sir Robert, God assoil him, entertained Prior Alexander and Brother Richer from St Fulcher’s yesterday afternoon. They brought the comfits as a gift. I even ate one.’

‘Why did they visit Sir Robert?’

‘Business,’ Crispin replied. ‘The Passio Christi was to be taken to St Fulcher’s today — they came to fix the hour. There were other matters. Sir Robert also confirmed that I would be given good lodgings when he began his pilgrimage at the beginning of Lent.’

‘And who,’ Cranston interrupted, ‘would have looked after Sir Robert’s affairs when he was away?’

‘Edmond and I,’ Alesia replied, throwing a hateful glance at her stepmother. ‘Matters would be in safe hands.’ She grasped her husband’s arm. He simply smiled, eyes watchful for Cranston’s next question.

‘And the Passio Christi, what would have happened to that when Sir Robert left?’

‘We would have kept it secure.’ Alesia didn’t seem so certain now. ‘After all, Edmond is a very respected member. .’

Kinsman Adam suddenly sniggered. Athelstan glanced sideways. Sir John’s eyes were growing heavy; he was slumping in the great chair brought up in front of the roaring fire.

‘Sir John is weary.’ Athelstan paused at the furious knocking from down the gallery. ‘Your father’s chamber is being made secure and sealed. No one, and I repeat no one, on their allegiance to the Crown, is to enter that chamber. I repeat.’ He ignored all their protests, especially from Lady Helen. ‘No one is to enter.’ He pointed at Alesia, her red-rimmed eyes now dry in her long, pale face. ‘Mistress, your father was murdered — undoubtedly poisoned.’ He waited for the gasps and cries to subside.

‘But how?’ Edmond demanded. ‘We had supper with him last night. Sir Robert was in good spirits when he left the table.’

‘Then?’ Cranston abruptly drew himself up in the chair, smacking his lips, fingers impatiently beating against the arm rest. ‘What happened then?’ he repeated.

‘He adjourned to his chamber.’ Crispin spoke up.

‘Did you go with him?’

‘No, Sir John,’ Lady Helen replied. ‘My husband ,’ she emphasized the word, ‘said he wanted to reflect. I don’t know why, we don’t know why, he simply asked not to be disturbed. He had his wine and those sweetmeats, to which he was partial. He bolted and locked the door and never came out.’

‘And no one visited him?’

‘Nobody,’ Crispin declared. ‘Once Sir Robert had decided to be alone that was it.’

‘I wished him goodnight,’ Lady Helen declared. ‘I called through the door.’

‘As did I,’ Alesia added.

‘And Sir Robert replied both times?’

‘Of course, Brother. If he hadn’t, we would have been alarmed.’

‘And the Passio Christi?’

‘I saw it,’ Alesia declared. ‘Crispin, Edmond and I were here after the monks had left. He showed it to us and put it back in the coffer. Crispin and he took it back to his chamber. I saw him lock the casket and put the keys back on the chain around his neck.’ Alesia wetted her lips, slender fingers rubbing her brow. ‘Sir John, Brother Athelstan, my father kept the bloodstone in that coffer in his chancery. I. .’

‘Mistress,’ Athelstan soothed, ‘after supper your father retired for the night about what hour?’

‘He went to the garderobe first,’ she replied. ‘It’s a little further along the gallery. He made himself comfortable. I think it must have been. .’

‘About compline,’ Crispin interjected, ‘the bells were ringing for compline. I remember glancing through the window and saw the beacons flaring in the church steeples. The streets below were quiet.’

‘And Sir Robert definitely stayed in his chamber?’

‘Yes, yes.’ They spoke together.

‘So,’ Athelstan cradled his leather satchel rocking gently backwards and forwards. ‘No one goes into that chamber. It is bolted and locked from the inside, and this morning?’

‘I went there,’ Crispin replied. ‘I knocked, then I hammered and shouted.’

‘I came down,’ Lady Helen leaned forward. ‘Kinsman Adam and I also tried.’ She pulled a face and one, Athelstan reflected, not so full of grieving. ‘By then the entire house was roused. The door was forced and Sir Robert,’ she tried to create a tremor in her voice and dabbed quickly at her eyes with the long hem of her cuff, ‘lay dead on the floor but, apart from that horrid sight, nothing else was disturbed.’

‘And nothing was?’ Athelstan queried sharply. ‘Nobody touched anything?’

‘Nobody,’ Alesia agreed. ‘I was so shocked I just stood in the doorway. Master Crispin scrutinized the chancery table and asked me if the casket holding the Passio Christi was secure. I did. It was undisturbed. Sir John, you discovered where my father kept his keys?’

For a while there was silence.

‘One more thing.’ Athelstan smiled round. ‘Let’s go back to something you have mentioned. Yesterday afternoon, Tuesday the eve of St Damasus, you were visited by two monks from St Fulcher’s — Prior Alexander and Sub-Prior Richer, yes?’

‘True,’ Crispin murmured, ‘we’ve explained that.’ Crispin’s eyes were blinking so furiously Athelstan recalled Physician Theobald’s earlier question and wondered if this old secretarius had a serious ailment of the eyes.

‘Who met them?’

‘My father,’ Alesia declared. ‘Crispin, Edmond and I were also present.’