Paul Doherty: A haunt of murder

‘Not so long ago,’ he repeated, ‘we were just two clerks. Adam, you had Marisa, I had Beatrice. I mentioned Brythnoth’s cross and what became an interest to you turned into obsession. You realised I was very close to discovering it. Why should I have the glory, not to mention the wealth? You or Marisa visited my chamber. Do you know, even before Beatrice died, I used to smell the perfume in my chamber but I thought it was a comforting trace of her presence. After you had killed her, I still caught the fragrance in my chamber, and also in the Salt Tower. At the time it reassured me. I believed Beatrice was beside me. Now I realise, you used to go to my room, both before and after her death, to study my papers, to see what progress I was making.’ He glanced at Marisa. She was very composed, head down, eyes watching from underneath her brows, a smile on her lips as if relishing her own cunning.

‘I was stupid. I really trusted you. Little Phoebe, she was different, wasn’t she? Did she see you in my chamber? Did she overhear some conversation?’

‘She was a meddling brat!’ Marisa broke in. ‘Ever at keyholes, or her ear pressed against the door!’ She shook away Adam’s warning hand. ‘I couldn’t abide her! Those clever eyes, that smirk, whatever she knew she’d trade for!’

‘And you invited her to the Salt Tower to discuss matters, didn’t you?’ said Ralph. ‘Then you killed her. She struggled. You beat Phoebe then you cut her throat. You wrapped her corpse in a canvas sheet and, under the cover of darkness, Adam lowered her body out of the window door and brought it here to Devil’s Spinney. To all intents and purposes she had been attacked by some travelling chapman or tinker. You made one mistake: Fulk and Eleanora were hiding in the spinney. Fulk saw what you hid and followed you out. Perhaps he recognised you, your height, your build, your gait.’

‘Oh, we glimpsed him.’ Marisa pulled the hair away from her face. ‘I was waiting for Adam in the Salt Tower by the window door. I saw the yokel trailing behind, pretending to be ever so clever. It was only a matter of time before he came back to bargain like the peasant he was!’

‘And you’d be waiting for him, wouldn’t you, Marisa? Just a few words. A pleasant smile, an invitation to the Salt Tower. Once he was there he was dead. Again, a blow to the head and his body is dumped in the moat. It might be discovered but his death would not be laid at your door. And Beatrice. One or both of you waited in the tower, watching that dark shape come along the parapet walk. Did you distract her? One blow to the head and that was enough; you made a dreadful mistake but you didn’t really care.’ Ralph fought hard to control his anger and grief. ‘We all thought there was one assassin when there were two. Adam and Marisa ever ready to explain where the other was when these attacks took place. One of you was always seen or heard. Even the Constable was prepared to swear that he heard you checking the stores the afternoon Phoebe was killed but was it at the time of the attack? We don’t know when exactly she died.’

Adam pulled a face and shook his head. ‘I’m truly sorry-’

‘Oh, spare me!’ Ralph snarled. ‘You’re not sorry. You’ve lost your soul. All you can think of is gold and a life of plenty. You attacked me in the spinney, didn’t you? Tried to make it look as if I had wandered into some mire. You are demons, both of you. You moved in and out of Ravesncroft with ease. Marisa would guard the window door in the Salt Tower while you, Adam, strong and able, ran across the heath. Once you were back in Ravenscroft you and your fellow devil could spin whatever lies you wanted.’

‘We should kill him!’ Marisa stared into the trees. ‘Adam, we should finish it now!’

‘Did Beardsmore suspect?’ Ralph spoke in a rush. ‘It was his death that made me begin to suspect there were two, not one murderer. I checked the castle armoury. No one had withdrawn arbalests. In truth you had two: while Adam loosed one, sweet Marisa would be loading the other.’ He shook his fist. ‘That day you nearly accounted for both of us.’ Ralph gripped the cross as if it was a sword. ‘And then we come to Eleanora, sly-eyed, quick-witted, Fulk’s sweetheart. God only knows what she might tell Sir John and so she, too, had to be silenced. Now Eleanora was sharp-witted but when another woman came up to the small barred window of her cell and whispered encouragement, said she would do something to help and offered comfort, she believed her. That was you, wasn’t it, Marisa? A piece of marchpane coated with poison for rats and Eleanora was no more.’

‘Very sharp,’ said Adam. He was slipping a bolt into the groove on the arbalest. ‘I told Marisa, Ralph is keener-witted than you think. Likes to reflect, does old Ralph, tenacious as a fox terrier.’

‘And you made mistakes,’ Ralph taunted. He emphasised the points on his fingers. ‘I gave Marisa Beatrice’s perfume. I smelt that fragrance in my own chamber and in the Salt Tower. It would take two people for the assassin to be able to loose so many crossbow bolts at me and Beardsmore. You are a clerk, Adam, you would understand my cipher and writing. I was truly puzzled when I found that trap to break my neck in the Salt Tower. You, Adam, were talking to Sir John, but that left you free, Marisa, to go where you wanted. Somehow or other Adam quickly told you where I had gone. A marvellous opportunity! You could slip through the orchard, across that overgrown garden. You’d probably planned it beforehand, even left the twine from when you murdered Phoebe and Fulk, a warning signal should anyone come up to disturb you. You slipped in, re-tied the pieces of twine and were gone. If I’d discovered you, it would have been easy to drop the twine and act the concerned friend.’ Ralph sighed. ‘I was saved by sheer chance. I dropped my dagger and found the twine.’ He paused, wondering if Sir John was aware of what was happening. Adam had yet to pull back the cord of the arbalest. Ralph held up the cross. ‘All for this!’

‘What are you going to do?’ Adam asked softly. Both he and Marisa got to their feet.

‘Before I left the castle, I left a message for Sir John to follow me.’

‘He’s lying!’ Marisa spat out, only to whirl round at the crackling in the undergrowth on the far side of the grove.

Ralph lunged at Adam and sent him staggering back but he still grasped the arbalest. Sir John appeared from the trees, sword drawn, behind him the captain of the guard and a score of archers from the castle garrison. Adam’s face broke into a snarl. He brought himself up on one knee and was trying to winch back the crossbow when an arrow took him full in the throat. Coughing and spluttering, he lurched to one side. Marisa ran past the oak trees. Despite her long gown and the shoes she wore, she was moving fast. Ralph put the cross down and followed in pursuit, ignoring the warning cries of Sir John. Like a shadow Marisa sped through the sun-dappled trees. She reached what looked like a clearing and hastened on. Ralph thought of the warning shouts of Sir John.

‘Marisa, no!’

But she was already held fast in the mire. She struggled on. Ralph reached the edge and took off his war belt but Marisa had her back to him, floundering and splashing about. She was either unaware of his presence or chose to ignore it. She lunged forward as if she believed she could swim but the more she thrashed around, the deeper she sank. She turned in one desperate effort, her hand going up, but the mud was already filling her mouth. She spluttered and coughed, turned once more, and disappeared beneath the mire.

‘She is gone.’

Ralph looked round. Sir John, chest heaving, sword gripped in his mailed fist, looked cold-eyed at the bubbles rippling the mire.