Pip Vaughan-Hughes - Relics

'In fact he had quite a shopping list. Cordula was at the top, of course, together with a certain Saint Exuperius, one of the Theban Legion,' and he gave me his teacher's look.

'Saint Maurice and the martyred Roman soldiers. Victor, etcetera. They didn't exist either, did they?'

'Well, probably not. But a rumour is going around that Exuperius is – I was going to say alive and well! No, that he is available, or at least somewhere for the finding. Balecester is almost as excited about Exuperius as he is about Cordula.'

'But if there is already a business arrangement, why…' and I waved my arm helplessly.

'Greed, pure and simple greed. Balecester hatched a plan with his lieutenant, Sir Hugh de Kervezey, to cheat the Captain. They want him to find Cordula, and then they will… kill him and take Cordula gratis, and everything else in the Captain's very considerable horde. They would then be in a position to control the greater part of the entire trade in holy relics, and I don't need to tell you what that means.'

'And so Kervezey – well, I know the rest of it. So I was merely to be set up as the Deacon's killer, but instead I became the bait to catch de Montalhac, just because I took the hand? So the hand had nothing to do with it.'

'Oh, no. Sir Hugh wanted the hand – he sent you to get it. He was going to use it himself, of course, but you saved him the bother. I suppose he was going to offer it on the clandestine market and see who bit. And he was going to use you -your apostasy, really – as a way to gain power over me -threaten me, as your teacher, with an enquiry or some such – if I refused to betray the Captain. Quite a tangle, eh? Anyway, it half-worked: in fact it worked so much better than he could ever have dreamed. You actually joined the Captain's company, and I had to leave the abbey in a hurry. You were there to see how he lorded it over us. Well, he finally roused the Abbot – it was the day you left. He mustered the brothers with bow and arrow and we greeted the bugger with drawn strings. I don't think he believed that monks could be so angry. So he left, calling down fire and brimstone and the wrath of mother Church on our heads. Alas, he had made the abbey a little too hot for me. The Abbot regretfully suggested I take an indefinite sabbatical abroad – he was kind enough to write me some nice references – and here I am.' And this isn't serendipity either, is it, Adric?'

'Not quite. I've been doing a little sniffing around for the Captain while tramping around Christendom like a poor friar – what a wonderful time I'm having, Patch! – hence my time with Albertus, who is wandering like me. We met in Utrecht, and I was able to find out a few more crumbs, little clues to Cordula's resting place.'

'Has it all been wonderful, though? You had to leave Bordeaux in a hurry.'

'They found me, yes. When Kervezey lost you he decided to follow me – old and slow, you know. But I have learned a few tricks, especially in this last year. I got away just in time, but that too was lucky as it hurried me to Rome, where I found the last piece of our mystery.'

Silently I poured us more wine, then hurried him along. He had me again.

'Rome, Petroc, Rome! I intend to spend the rest of my days there, God willing, rooting like an old hog in the Vatican libraries. It was fortunate that I had a particular task, or I would be there yet. You would not believe it, Patch. Everything is there! The answer to every question, and a million more questions and the answers to those as well…' 'And our particular answer?' 'A letter!' he said, banging the table. 'Very easy to find. A letter from Pope Leo the Great to a certain Eudorius, a Greek consul who had evidently written seeking clarification about something: a question of beatification. Old Leo was a master of linguistic economy, you might say, but this particular letter – remember, we have only the answer, not the question -mentions the words Cologne, martyr and a place, Koskino, an island in the Ionian Sea. By the way, Leo is most discouraging to poor old Eudorius, urging caution and suggesting further investigation. The Captain has been doing a little digging of his own, and his own researches have discovered that on Koskino there is a local cult of fertility centred on the shrine of a Saint Tula.' He looked at me expectantly. 'Cordula, Tula. Perhaps.' 'More than that. You are bound for Koskino, boy.' 'And you, Adric?'

'I think Brother Adric deserves a rest. I am sending him back down to Rome in the morning.' It was the Captain. I wondered how long he had been standing in the open doorway. 'Will you sell Cordula to the Bishop?' I asked him.

'Great God, no. I ceased to do anything on that man's behalf the day you came aboard in Dartmouth. But I would like to have Cordula, and now, unfortunately, I have to find her before the secret gets out: for it will, it will.' 'He is a monster,' I said.

'The Bishop? No, Balecester himself is no great monster. He has a monstrous ambition, though. He would like to be Archbishop of Canterbury, a kingmaker, probably even Pope. It is common enough. But the true monster is his son.' He stopped, and rubbed his beard.

The Bishop has a son?' I looked blankly from one to the other. 'Kervezey is the bishop's bastard, Petroc,' the Captain said. 'Oh,' I said. I examined the pitcher of wine in front of me: empty. Four eyes – two hawk-like, two owlish, studied me intently. 'So what will happen now?' I asked finally.

We will find our relic and convey her to her new resting place in the cathedral at Cologne,' the Captain told me. 'The Bishop was almost apoplectic with joy when I offered her for sale. She will add some lustre to his Ursula collection.' 'And Balecester?' 'Bugger Balecester,' said the Captain.

Will had seen no more suspicious shadows in the alley, but we kept our hands on our swords as we walked Adric the short way to the little monastery where he had his lodgings. Before leaving the inn he had passed a small scroll to the Captain, who tucked it away carefully among his clothing. It was the letter, I assumed: the key to everything that Adric had told me. I was still dizzy with all I had heard. I was just a poor lad from Dartmoor, and yet a woman who had died when an emperor still sat in Rome had reached out and plucked me from my cosy little life. And just as strange, I had learned that I was part of a game and had been one of its pieces long before I had stumbled upon Sir Hugh in the Crozier. So I was not paying attention when Gilles grabbed my arm and pointed up the street to where a crowd had gathered. The Captain had already pulled Adric against the nearest wall.

'Look there, Patch. That is the monastery, I think! Quick, go and see what has happened, but keep in the shadows. Will, hand on hilts, if you please.'

I nodded and slipped into the stream of people hurrying to get a look at whatever excitement was up ahead. The crowd had blocked the whole street and I had to jostle my way to the front. There was an angry murmur around me. I craned my neck over a feather-crowned hat.

The monastery door was open, and in the doorway a body lay sprawled among the folds of a brown Benedictine robe, a rivulet of blood welling from the cloth and into the gutter. Another body lay just inside the courtyard, lit by flames that, as I watched, burst from an open casement and began to lick the low eaves of the building. More monks were dashing about, and one of them limped into the street and spread bloodied hands to the crowd in dumb entreaty. That was enough. I squeezed back through the press and into the shadows to where my three companions waited. The Captain pulled me close.

'Fire and murder,' I panted, and saw Adric's face turn white as ash. 'Fire? Where?' he demanded, and I told him.

'My cell!' he stammered. They have killed my hosts and burned my cell – oh, good Christ, my papers!'