Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘From now on they will be, Bishop Wulfstan,’ said Frewine.

‘Too late in the day for those already abducted,’ said Ralph.

‘We must act fast. One of them at least may be recovered before any real harm befalls him.’

‘Where will you begin your search, my lord?’ asked Wulfstan.

‘At the two locksmiths.’

‘Abbot Serlo is mortified that he might unwittingly have helped to further this dreadful event. For his sake, and for the sake of his abbey’s reputation, these crimes must be answered.’

‘They will be, Bishop Wulfstan.’

‘You and Master Bret will earn our undying thanks.’

‘Do not forget Canon Hubert,’ said Ralph mischievously. ‘Our self-appointed master. He will be a crucial figure.’

‘There will be consequences,’ Gervase reminded him. ‘If we are to devote our full attention to this matter, we will have to forgo our work in the shire hall. That will not make us popular with the claimants.’

Ralph was dismissive. ‘I care nothing for popularity.’

‘It is just as well, Ralph, for the sheriff will also hurl abuse at us. My fear is that he’ll do far more than that and actually prevent us lending our assistance.’

‘No question of that!’ insisted Wulfstan.

‘You have the power to stop him?’ said Gervase.

‘The King does, Master Bret, and he has already used it on your behalf. When I told him of your splendid efforts thus far, he was so impressed that he more or less ordered Durand to allow you to continue. The sheriff has been muzzled. Ignore him.’

‘This is excellent news,’ said Ralph genially. ‘Come, Gervase.

It’s time to batter on a couple of doors. One of those locksmiths must provide another key for us. The one that unlocks this mystery.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ said Gervase.

‘What?’

‘Brother Frewine still has that money.’

‘Of course!’ said Ralph, slapping his thigh by way of self-reproach. ‘How remiss of me! That leather pouch.’ He smiled at the Precentor. ‘Could I trouble you to show it to us?’

‘With pleasure, my lord.’

Opening the door of a cupboard, Frewine took out the pouch and handed it to Ralph. He weighed it in his palm. When he opened the neck of the pouch, Ralph tipped the coins on to the table beside the flickering candle. Wulfstan was shocked by the amount of money and Gervase fascinated by its glinting newness.

Ralph’s interest was in the pouch. He took out the strip of leather he had found in the bell tower and held it against the thongs which threaded their way through the pouch.

It was a perfect match. Ralph grinned with satisfaction.

‘What you found was only part of his hoard, Brother Frewine,’

he explained. ‘The rest was hidden behind a beam in the bell tower and, if my guess is correct, snatched away by the man who killed him. I’ve got his scent in my nostrils now, Gervase. Let’s after him!’

Seated in a chair, Abbot Serlo stared ahead of him with an expression of remorse on his face. Canon Hubert stood beside him to offer consolation.

‘It was my fault,’ said Serlo quietly. ‘I am to blame, Canon Hubert.’

‘Nothing could be further from the truth, Abbot Serlo.’

‘But I gave that key to Brother Nicholas.’

‘Unwittingly.’

‘That is how it all started.’

‘We do not know that for certain.’

‘I provided the key which allowed three of my novices to be taken from the abbey against their will. What dreadful fate awaited them when they left here? What obscenities were they subjected to? What agonies did they endure?’ His whole body convulsed. ‘I will never forgive myself.’

‘There is nothing to forgive, Abbot Serlo. How were you to know to what use that key would be put? When you loaned it to Brother Nicholas, it was, presumably, for another purpose.’

‘Yes,’ explained Serlo. ‘He was due back late one night from his travels with a satchel full of the rent he collected. He asked if he could let himself in by the back gate so that he could deposit the money here at my lodging. At least, that was the reason he gave but I surmised that there was another more benevolent one.’

‘Benevolent?’

‘Brother Nicholas had his detractors but he was, at heart, a kind man. At the time of which we speak, almost two years ago now, we had an ancient porter, Brother Andrew, too old to discharge the office at night but too proud to admit it. Callers are rare after dark so he was able to sleep most of the time.’ He looked up at Hubert. ‘I thought that Brother Nicholas was showing consideration to an old man, asking to be let in by the back gate so that Brother Andrew was not roused from his slumber.’

‘Did Brother Nicholas ever borrow the key again?’

‘Never. Shortly after the first occasion, our dear porter fell into an eternal sleep. If he came back late after that, Brother Nicholas had no qualms about ringing the bell at the main gate for his successor.’ He rose to his feet. ‘It never occurred to me that he had no more need of my key because a duplicate had already been made.’

‘That is only supposition.’

‘The lord Ralph seemed convinced. So did Master Bret.’

‘Their theory is plausible but still unproven.’

‘It has the awful ring of truth about it.’

‘Even if that is the case,’ said Hubert gently, ‘you are beyond censure. Brother Nicholas had his throat cut. Is the man who made the knife culpable because he sold it unknowingly to a murderer?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘The same holds for you.’

‘But it does not, Canon Hubert.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because the cutler who provided the knife has not been directly confronted with its gruesome handiwork. I have. In supplying that key, I gave Brother Nicholas and his accomplice a means of access to this abbey. That access made possible a murder and three abductions.’

‘I am unpersuaded,’ said Hubert, shaking his head. ‘My colleagues may be a little too hasty in their judgement. Let us take these supposed abductions. How do we know that is what they are, and where is the evidence that the same man was involved?’

‘Three novices have been seized from this abbey.’

‘Three have disappeared, it is true. But were they seized?’

‘They must have been, Canon Hubert.’

‘When did the first boy go astray?’

‘It must have been all of eighteen months or two years ago.’

His despair intensified. ‘Yes, almost two years ago. I recall it now. Soon after I lent that key to Brother Nicholas. That is when Siward was taken.’

‘It could be an unfortunate coincidence.’

‘No, Canon Hubert. The link is undeniable.’

‘What of the second boy?’

‘Dena vanished from our midst some time last year.’

‘A considerable time after Siward, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘If someone really did have designs on them, why not abduct both together? It does not make sense to delay the second visit so long. No, Abbot Serlo,’ said Hubert, ‘I begin to have reservations about this.’

‘I wish that I could share them.’

‘At least absolve yourself of any criticism.’

‘Impossible!’ said the abbot, wringing his hands as he paced the room. ‘And even if I do not accuse myself, they will.’

‘They?’

‘Owen’s parents.’

‘I was forgetting them.’

‘They will be utterly heartbroken when I tell them. They are good Christians, Canon Hubert. God-fearing people who placed their only child here in the abbey in the confident belief that he would be nurtured and protected. What am I to say to them?’ he asked, arms flailing. ‘No words of comfort exist for parents in such a situation. I have been through it twice before, remember.