Paul Doherty - The Grail Murders

Eadred patted the old abbot gently on the shoulder. 'Reverend Father did all he could for Brother Hopkins. He arranged for him to be released from his vows and work as a chaplain in Templecombe and the surrounding villages and hamlets.' The librarian's face broke into a boyish smile. 'He wasn't even good at that: he claimed he had found the key to mysterious secrets and hastened off to tell My Lord of Buckingham.' He became solemn. 'In the end Hopkins destroyed himself and others, and brought the King's wrath down on this community and elsewhere.' He stared squarely at the Agentes. 'Though, I tell you this, sirs, John Santerre is a loyal subject of the King.'

I bit back my questions as Mandeville began to list what he wished to see the following morning: Arthur's tomb; the manuscript in which Hopkins had found the riddle; and any other matter the reverend Abbot and Brother Eadred thought might assist us in our search.

Eadred coolly agreed, informed us that food would be sent across and bade us all a courteous good night.

'I don't like him,' Southgate grated as soon as the monks left. 'I don't like this abbey and I think there's some sort of link between this place and Sir John Santerre.' 'Why?' I challenged. 'What proof do you have?'

'Well, after Sir Edmund finished his interrogation this morning, I had a word with a few of the servants, men from the outlying farms. Santerre apparently did not go round his estates yesterday as he claimed. So where was he, eh?'

We kept our mouths shut and Mandeville and Southgate stomped away. We made ourselves at home, ate the simple food sent across to us from the refectory and retired to bed.

Early the next morning Benjamin attended mass in the abbey church then roused me. We breakfasted in the small refectory of the abbot's guest house on light ale and spiced oatmeal heated with boiling milk. Mandeville and Southgate joined us, the soldiers who had accompanied us being billeted elsewhere. The two Agentes were full of themselves, eager to exert their power in this famous abbey so, when Brother Eadred joined us, Mandeville insisted that we go straight to the library.

We left the guest house, going through stone-vaulted passageways into the cloister garth. The study carrels were empty because of the cold weather: snow and ice covered the deserted garden though from the abbey church we could hear the faint chanting of Lauds.

We found the library wondrously warm, being ingeniously heated by hot pipes which also gushed water into the latrines. I remember this well for I have never seen the like since.

I did, however, discuss such a marvel with Sir John Harrington, the Queen's nephew, who has since devised an ingenious system to build a water closet so that privies and latrines can be cleaned by pulling a chain and releasing water. Very clumsy, though I've had one installed here at Burpham.

Of course, Benjamin was at home in the library, exclaiming with delight at the smell of parchment, pumice stone, ink and newly treated vellum. He took down volumes from the shelves, undid their clasps and, chattering like a child, pointed out the beauty of the calligraphy. Some letters were pictures in themselves, containing miniature dragons, wyverns, centaurs and other mythical beasts. Mandeville and Southgate just stood watching patronisingly until Sir Edmund clicked his fingers. 'I want to see the Hopkins manuscripts.'

Eadred stared at him in mock innocence. 'No such books exist, Sir Edmund.'

'Don't play games with me!' Mandeville snarled. 'I don't know the bloody title but I wish to see the ones Hopkins studied!' 'Oh, you mean the Legends of Avalon’ Eadred went and opened a great, iron-bound coffer and brought out a thick folio, leather bound and fastened by two small clasps. He placed this gently down on the table and we all gathered round.

'It's not really a book,' Eadred explained. 'It's actually a collection of legends about Glastonbury and this area.' 'And what did Hopkins find?'

Mandeville undid the clasps and pulled back the leather cover. At first we couldn't see anything on the white backing but then Eadred brought across a candle, held it near the page, not quite close enough to scorch, and sea-green writing began to appear.

'A subtle device,' Eadred murmured. 'God knows how it is done.'

Time and again he wafted the candle flame and, for a while, the writing became quite distinct. Benjamin borrowed a quill and a piece of parchment and copied the verse down, word for word. It was no different from that Agrippa had quoted: 'Beneath Jordan's water Christ's cup does rest, And above Moses' Ark the sword that's best.' Mandeville chanted it like a child learning a rhyme. 'What the hell does it mean?' he added. Eadred invited us to sit round the table. 'How did Hopkins discover this?' Benjamin asked.

The monk spread his hands. 'Perhaps an accident because, though the manuscript contains famous legends, there's nothing new in it. What I suspect is that he was inspecting the binding and moved the candle to study it more closely to see if there was a gap between the cover and its backing: underneath the candle flame the writing must have appeared.' Eadred pointed to the white page where the lettering was beginning to fade. 'I was here when Hopkins discovered it. He didn't tell me but became so agitated and excited, he left the book open with faint drops of candle grease on it. I repeated what I had seen him do. The rest you know.'

Mandeville leaned over and tapped the book. 'And there's nothing else in here?' 'Nothing at all.'

'Then,' Mandeville leaned towards Southgate, 'my colleague here who is an expert in secret writing, codes and ciphers, will take this to another table and study it carefully.'

I looked at Southgate in mock surprise. 'You can read!' I exclaimed. 'You can truly read?' Well, that got the bastard really enraged.

'I studied at Oriel!' he snapped. 'Theology, Philosophy, Logic and Mathematics!'

'Then I beg your pardon, sir.' I slapped my own wrist. 'It just goes to show you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, eh?'

Southgate picked up the manuscript and stalked away. Mandeville glared at me whilst Eadred and Benjamin seemed preoccupied with their fingers.

'This is no laughing matter, Shallot,' Sir Edmund declared. 'Brother Eadred, on your allegiance to the King, do you know the meaning of Hopkins's riddle?' 'Before God, Sir Edmund, I do not!'

'Is there anything in this abbey that has even the vaguest reference to Jordan's water or the Ark of Moses?'

Eadred smoothed the table top with his fingers. 'The Jordan is a river in Palestine,' he replied. 'What in God's name, Sir Edmund, would that have to do with an abbey in Somerset? And as for the Ark of Moses, this was the sacred chest fashioned at the foot of Mount Sinai to contain the sacred tablets of stone. Where on earth would that be?' Sir Edmund was not easily put off.

'Yet you have a rose bush,' he retorted. 'Which, you claim, was planted by Joseph of Arimathea. Don't play games with me, dear monk. Your abbey proudly proclaims that this Joseph of Arimathea came here, bringing the Grail with him. According to the book of legends you have just shown us, Arthur came here to drink from the Grail, whilst one of his knights, Sir Bedivere, reputedly took Excalibur down to Narepool which is only three miles from Glastonbury. This is still owned by the abbey and, according to the annual accounts you submit to the exchequer, provides 5,000 eels a year for your kitchen.'

Sir Edmund half-raised himself from his seat and pointed a finger straight at the monk's face. 'Before God, sir,' he threatened hoarsely. 'If I find even the vaguest reference to an Ark or to Jordan's water in this abbey or any place in your possession, I shall see you stand trial at King's Bench in London on a charge of high treason!'