Alys Clare - The Joys of My Life

‘You’re sure?’ Josse demanded.

The priest turned a mild face to him. ‘See for yourself,’ he invited. ‘He’s stone-cold and there is no heartbeat.’

Josse put a hand to the man’s cheek. It was chill to the touch. ‘Who is he?’

‘We don’t yet know,’ the priest said. ‘He was found only a short while ago — the first workmen on the site noticed a trio of crows hopping around here in the nave and then they saw what had attracted them.’ He shuddered. ‘Fortunately, the men drove them off before they did any damage.’

‘He was a stonemason,’ Josse said, studying the dead man. ‘His clothes are covered in stone dust.’ He looked up. ‘We should send for the master masons. They all know their own men.’

The priest hurried to obey and soon returned with three men dressed, like the dead man, in dusty tunics and leather aprons. They stared down at the corpse and one said, ‘Aye, I know him.’ He gave a heavy sigh and added something that sounded like, ‘Might have known.’

‘Who is he?’ Josse asked.

The master mason met his eyes. ‘Paul de Fleury.’

Others came hurrying to join the group around the dead man and Josse, who had seen and heard enough, melted away through the crowd. They would find out where Paul de Fleury lived, he thought, search his house and belongings for some clue as to who had employed him and what work he had been doing that had necessitated the fatal climb up to the beam high above the nave. Josse had found the house already; the only thing within of any possible relevance was now inside his tunic. He knew who had engaged de Fleury and he strongly suspected that the fall had been no accident. He needed to inspect the nave very carefully, preferably by himself, but that was quite impossible for now. He would just have to wait.

He went back to the convent and asked to speak to Abbess Helewise. He knew by her face that she had already heard the news. She waited until they were alone in the bare little parlour before speaking.

‘He is the man you went looking for,’ she whispered. ‘I recognized the name.’

‘Aye, he is.’

‘You don’t think…? Sir Josse, it can’t be that he is dead because he found out you were asking about him?’

He realized what she meant. ‘You think he might have been so frightened that he killed himself?’

Slowly she nodded.

It was a possibility that had not occurred to him. It was likely that some well-meaning person had slipped the word to de Fleury that Josse had been looking for him. If he were engaged in some evil or criminal work, then it was conceivable that Josse’s sudden interest could have panicked him into suicide. Nevertheless, Josse was pretty sure that was not how it had happened.

‘I do not think so, my lady,’ he said firmly. ‘I think it is far more likely that de Fleury somehow became a threat to his employer and that de Loup lured him to the cathedral last night and killed him.’

‘You… Oh!’ Her eyes widened. Then, ‘Is there any proof?’

‘None that I have found yet, although I have not had the chance for a proper look. I’m going out this evening, when everyone has gone home.’

‘Surely they’re not working there today, in the very place where a man has just died?’

‘No, indeed.’ He gave her an ironic look. ‘The cathedral’s crawling with priests and busybodies and they’ll be there until the very last scrap of drama and speculation has finally been extracted.’

She smiled sympathetically. ‘And in the meantime you are forced to sit here kicking your heels and bursting with impatience.’

He returned her smile. ‘That might be so, my lady, except that there is this.’ He extracted de Fleury’s piece of vellum and unrolled it, spreading it out so that they could both look at it. Seeing it for the first time in good light, Josse gave a sharp exclamation.

On the vellum, Paul de Fleury had drawn a picture — in all likelihood, the design for the commission from his employer. He must have been a skilled artist, for the picture was beautiful, with flowing lines and a vivid emotional life. It depicted a slim, graceful woman in a horned headdress and she stood in a narrow craft shaped like the crescent moon.

The abbess did not seem to be able to take her eyes off the drawing. She said in an urgent whisper, ‘Who is she? Oh, Sir Josse, what in heaven’s name was de Fleury doing?’

‘I have seen this before,’ he replied. ‘It is the device worn by Philippe de Loup and the Knights of Arcturus.’

‘And de Loup wishes to have it incorporated into the new cathedral?’

‘So it appears,’ he agreed, ‘if indeed this picture represents the figure that de Fleury had been commissioned to craft.’

‘But…’ The abbess seemed lost for words. ‘Sir Josse, is this not a pagan image?’

He tore his eyes away from the drawing — something that was surprisingly difficult, for the figure seemed to compel the attention — and looked at the abbess. ‘I suppose so,’ he agreed, ‘although.. ’ He did not know how to put his reservation into words.

Slowly she nodded. ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘My head tells me that she — ’ very gently the abbess touched the figure — ‘is a pagan goddess and that I should have no truck with her, yet she appeals irresistibly to something so profound within me that I cannot begin to name it.’

For some time they went on staring down at Paul de Fleury’s powerful image and neither spoke. Then Josse sighed deeply and said, ‘Philippe de Loup knew what he was about, that’s for sure. If de Fleury’s finished sculpture ended up with a fraction of the force of his preliminary design, then it would indeed have been something to behold.’

‘Yes,’ the abbess breathed. ‘Only now the poor man is dead, and his great gift gone.’

‘Why?’ Josse asked softly, as much to himself as to her. ‘Why kill him before the commission is done? It makes no sense.’

‘Perhaps the commission is done,’ she suggested suddenly. ‘Perhaps he gave it to de Loup last night and, having no further use for his craftsman, de Loup killed him.’

Josse considered it. ‘It’s possible,’ he agreed. ‘Although if it’s true, then where’s the statue? It was intended for Chartres — remember how I told you what Ambrois de Quercy said about de Loup making a special contribution to the new cathedral? If you’re right and de Loup waited until the work was done and then murdered the workman, then the finished object must be here somewhere. It makes no sense for de Loup to have taken it away.’

The abbess was shaking her head. ‘I do not know, Sir Josse.’

Abruptly he stood up. ‘I will ask among the masons,’ he announced. ‘One of them may know if Paul de Fleury had a workroom and if he did, I’ll go and look.’

She too had risen. ‘May I come with you?’

‘Of course.’ He was delighted. ‘I would have suggested it, only I had imagined your day was already planned.’

‘I can spare the time for a healthy walk out in the fresh air,’ she said firmly. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can find this putative workroom before the priests and the busybodies.’

Helewise let Josse precede her along the narrow streets since he appeared to know his way. Soon they were in the artisans’ quarters and, after asking questions of a couple of people, found themselves on a dusty and much-trodden track between rows of low buildings, many open-fronted. Inside were the tools of the craftsmen’s various skills: carpenters, masons, glaziers, blacksmiths. On any other day, the row would have been bustling with purposeful activity; today, it was silent and deserted.

It will not last long, Helewise thought. Such is the fervour here in Chartres that they’ll all want to get back to work. Tomorrow, everything will return to normal. Men in the middle of particularly precise and demanding tasks may even creep back later today.