Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘Serious consideration,’ declared Hubert.

‘There, Gervase!’ said Ralph with light sarcasm. ‘You have the approval of the leader of the murder inquiry. Sheriff Hubert himself.’ The canon took an uncomfortable step backwards. ‘I agree with your reasoning about the disguise and will even accept that the man in question was inside the enclave before the doors were locked. But one thing is still unexplained. How did he get out of the abbey again?’

‘With a key.’

‘The only two in existence are accounted for.’

‘Then there must be a third.’

‘How was it obtained?’

‘A duplicate was taken from one of the others.’ He turned to Serlo. ‘Is there a locksmith in the city, Abbot Serlo?’

‘Two. We have employed both here in the past.’

‘Give us their names. We will need to speak to them.’

‘Both are entirely trustworthy.’

‘I’m sure that they are,’ said Ralph, ‘but how are they to know where a key comes from when a customer requests a duplicate?

A locksmith is acting in good faith. He is no accomplice here.’

‘I am sorry to disagree,’ said Frewine softly, ‘because Master Bret has been so plausible. But we are very particular about the security of this abbey. With such valuable items and holy relics to guard, we have to be. All the keys are kept on a single ring.

Day or night, it never leaves the hand of the porter who is on duty. How, then, could it have been copied by a locksmith?’

‘It was not,’ said Gervase. ‘Nobody would try to borrow a key from a bunch when a single one existed. The duplicate must have been made from the other key.’

‘But you heard Abbot Serlo tell you that it rarely leaves his lodging. And then it is only for personal use.’

All eyes turned to the abbot. A distant memory troubled him.

‘That is not strictly true, Brother Frewine.’

‘Others have borrowed the key?’ asked Ralph.

‘Once or twice.’

‘Recently?’

‘Oh no, my lord. Some time ago.’

‘When was the last time? A year ago?’

‘More like two.’

‘And who borrowed your key on that occasion?’

Abbot Serlo’s voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper.

‘I do believe it may have been Brother Nicholas.’

It was an entirely new experience for Ralph Delchard. He would never have believed that it was possible for him to enjoy himself within the confines of an abbey, especially when plucked unceremoniously from the arms of his wife in the early hours of the morning, but that was what was happening. Pleasure was coursing through him. It was not because he had discovered a hitherto unacknowledged spiritual dimension in his life, still less an affinity with the three Benedictine monks who greeted him at the abbey. What excited him was the thrill of the chase. Another crime had been committed, but more clues lay in its wake this time. His blood was up. Simultaneously, an innocent boy might be saved and a cruel murder solved. He was glad that Gervase Bret had hauled him out of bed.

Controlling his exhilaration, he spoke gently to Kenelm.

‘Tell your story once more,’ he invited.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Begin from the moment you heard Owen leave. Had he ever crept out of the dormitory at night before?’

‘Never!’ said Kenelm.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘He was not bold enough, my lord.’

‘Unlike you and Elaf.’

‘Those days are gone.’

Kenelm was feeling sorry for himself. A sleepless night had left him sagging with weariness but the new day brought nothing but endless interrogation. Shocked by Owen’s disappearance and anxious to help, he was finding that his concentration wandered and his memory played tricks on him. He pulled himself together and went through it all again with plodding slowness. It was painful.

The five of them were in the Precentor’s lodging. Abbot Serlo had been shed along with Canon Hubert, the putative leader of the murder inquiry. Only the bishop followed Ralph and Gervase to the new venue. Brother Frewine summoned the novice and they were able to hear the boy’s account at first hand. It gave them priceless new facts with which to work. Seeing Kenelm’s obvious exhaustion, Ralph took pity on him and released him after another bout of questioning. When the boy had gone, Ralph turned to Brother Frewine.

‘That’s the second time he’s broken the rules to wander about at night and the second time he’s had a nasty surprise. I have a feeling that the lad will stay in his bed from now on.’

‘If only that were true, my lord,’ said Frewine.

‘You have cause to doubt it?’

‘Grave cause. Kenelm is planning to leave us.’

Wulfstan was upset. ‘Abandon his novitiate?’

‘So I understand, Bishop Wulfstan. As you saw for yourselves, the boy is in a state of high anxiety. Brother Nicholas’s death made a deep impression on him. He thinks that the only way he can deal with the situation is to run away.’

‘Owen’s fate may make him reconsider,’ observed Gervase.

‘Possibly.’

‘Let us have his friend in,’ said Ralph.

The Precentor nodded and opened the door to summon the other novice. Elaf was morose, rocked by what might have happened to Owen and desperate to do all that he could to try to find him. At Ralph’s behest, he described the argument he had seen outside the abbey gate between Brother Nicholas and the well-dressed stranger. When they had probed him on every detail, Elaf, too, was set free and ran off to confer with Kenelm.

There was another bond between them now. Both had seen things which might have a bearing on the serious crimes committed at the abbey. Each had witnessed elements in a continuing catastrophe.

Bishop Wulfstan was impressed by their undoubted honesty.

‘Worthy novices, both,’ he said. ‘The Order must not lose them.’

‘We will do all we can to keep them,’ promised Frewine.

‘I will speak with them alone myself, if that would help.’

‘Greatly, Bishop Wulfstan. They worship you.’

‘God needs no competition from me.’ He looked at Ralph. ‘You are deep in thought, my lord. May we know what you have decided?’

‘I am still trying to piece it together. Gervase?’

‘So am I,’ said the other, ‘but this much I will vouchsafe. Brother Nicholas strayed ruinously from his monastic vows. I know that it is a painful notion to accept,’ he continued as the bishop winced, ‘but it can scarcely be denied. Money was found in his cell by Brother Frewine and there are other indications which lead me to a conclusion which you will find incredible. But it must be confronted.’

‘Brace yourselves,’ warned Ralph. ‘Tell them, Gervase.’

‘I will be brief. Brother Nicholas was paid to provide young boys to someone who came here in disguise to collect them. The same man was probably seen by Elaf having an argument with Brother Nicholas outside the gate and it led in time to murder. Wearing a cowl and using the key provided by his accomplice, the man let himself in once more last night and chanced upon Owen in the cemetery.’

‘No!’ protested Wulfstan. ‘A Benedictine monk engaged in such a business? I cannot accept that. I will not.’

‘I will,’ said Frewine simply.

‘So will I,’ agreed Ralph. ‘My thoughts move in the same direction. I would make only one comment, Gervase.’

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘I do not think that this man “chanced upon” the boy.’

‘How else could he know where and when to find him?’

‘I have no idea. But he did. He must have.’

‘The very idea of such a monster prowling on consecrated ground is abhorrent to me,’ said Wulfstan. ‘He must be stopped. Locks on every door must be changed. Patrols set up. Special protection offered to the novices. They are mere children. They deserve to be watched over as closely as any holy relics.’