Paul Doherty: The Grail Murders

'Ah!' Benjamin lay down on the bed and stared up at the rafters. 'That, my dear Roger, will have to wait until our return to London. But for the moment, let us be patient and wait a while.'

He closed his eyes and I was left to twiddle my thumbs whilst all around us I could hear the sound of breaking doors and the running steps of soldiers. Mandeville came up to render grateful thanks, though he had the look of a vindictive hunter. *I cannot find Sir John or Lady Beatrice,' he stated. Benjamin hardly moved. 'Do you know where they are, Master Daunbey?'

'Oh, for God's sake, Sir Edmund, you have found your quarry and the King will have Templecombe and its estates. If the Santerres have fled, let them go!'

Mandeville shifted from foot to foot. 'The King will hear of this.'

'His Grace the King will also hear of our great industry in this matter,' I taunted back. 'If it had not been for Master Daunbey, who knows where this would have ended?' 'How is Mistress Rachel?' Benjamin asked. 'Cold, distant and unrepentant.' Benjamin rolled over on the bed, resting his head on his hand. He looked up at Mandeville. 'She is not to be harmed. No brutality or violation.' Mandeville looked away.

'Sir Edmund, I want your word on that, or I promise you this – the Lord Cardinal will get to hear of it! Sir Edmund,' Benjamin insisted, 'you owe me something.'

'You have my word,' Mandeville muttered. 'She will be given food and drink. Tomorrow morning she will be taken to London.' He moved to the door then suddenly turned back. 'Southgate will be left here with some of the soldiers until my return when I will root out this nest of traitors!' He left, slamming the door behind him.

We stayed in my chamber most of the day. A soldier brought up some badly cooked meat and a jug of wine after which I walked along the gallery. The cloths and tapestries had been wrenched from the walls whilst in the hall every precious object had been removed. The kitchens were pillaged, the soldiers were even defecating and relieving themselves in the corners of rooms, whilst some heartless bastard had shot two of the greyhounds. Templecombe now looked as if the French had landed and the manor been turned over to pillagers.

I wandered out into the chill night air, wondering if I should visit Rachel Santerre and ensure that Mandeville was keeping his word. Behind me I could hear the sound of breaking furniture, the shouts of soldiers and the stench of cooking fires. Even I, a professional thief, felt sickened at the wanton vandalism. I was half-way between Templecombe and the chapel, about to turn back, when a dark shape stepped out of the bushes. 'Master Shallot! Master Shallot! For the love of God!'

I looked round. No soldiers were present so I moved into the shadows to meet Mathilda. 'It is all over?' she asked.

'Yes. The Santerres have fled. Mistress Rachel is Mandeville's prisoner.'

The girl bit back a sob. I remembered the icy waters of the lake and seized her by the shoulders. 'You could have killed us!' I hissed.

She looked up fearfully. I could tell by her white face and staring eyes that she did not know what had happened. 'What do you mean?' she whispered.

'Nothing,' I replied. My hands fell away. 'Did you know that Rachel Santerre was the leader of the Templar coven?' The girl shrugged.

'We suspected but nothing was proved. Sometimes we met on the island but the master was always hooded and cowled. Orders would be issued, instructions about what we had to do.' She licked her lips and stared fearfully over my shoulder towards the house.

'We were told you were not really our enemy, Master Shallot. I was asked to know you better.' She moved a little closer. 'What will happen to us?' she pleaded.

'By now,' I replied, 'Sir John and Lady Beatrice should be on board ship bound for foreign parts. Mistress Rachel is to be taken to London.' 'And us?'

Tell your people to flee. Put as much distance between themselves and Templecombe as possible, your father especially.' 'Where can we go?' she wailed.

I glimpsed the terror in the poor girl's face and realised she had simply been a tool. They had all been used by Rachel Santerre for her ancient order. I loosened my money belt (oh, yes, where I went, it went) and counted out ten gold coins, a veritable fortune, then slipped a small jewelled ring off my finger and pushed it all into her hands.

Take your child,' I said, 'and your father, and within a week follow Sir John and Lady Beatrice abroad. I cannot do more for you.'

I walked back to the house, feeling as brave and courageous as Hector. 'Roger!' I turned and glimpsed Mathilda's white face in the shadows. 'You should go,' I repeated.

They said you were a rogue but you have more honour than any of them. Goodbye, Roger Shallot!'

I saw the shadows move, Mathilda disappeared and I walked back into the house. Now, naturally, with so many light-fingered bastards about, I decided that the best course of action was to recoup my losses with Mathilda. I grabbed whatever took my fancy and walked back to my chamber with a jewel-encrusted cup plucked from the fingers of a drunken soldier. After all, the labourer deserves payment and I wanted to show a little profit.

Benjamin was lying on my bed snoring like a child so I walked back along the galleries. Mandeville was frenetically trying to re-impose order whilst at the same time preparing for a quick departure to London the following morning. 'Are you and Daunbey returning with us?' he snapped. 'Must we?' I asked.

He shrugged. 'That is a matter for you. It is important that I take my prisoner to London and report direct to the King.' 'May I see Mistress Rachel?' 'Why?' 'I wish to take my farewells.' Mandeville looked at me suspiciously. 'My master has ordered me to,' I lied glibly.

(Do you know, when I was young, I looked my most innocent when I was lying through my teeth?)

'She has been moved from her own chamber,' Mandeville retorted, 'to one of the cellars beneath the hall. She is being well looked after.' 'My master is the Cardinal's nephew,' I added.

Mandeville pulled a face and shrugged. 'Come! I will take you there.'

The passageways beneath the hall were lit by torches and guarded by Bowyer's soldiers. We stopped before an iron-studded door. 'Open it!' Mandeville ordered.

Inside the cellar smelt musty though, even in that dark forbidding place, I still caught the tang of Rachel's perfume. The woman herself sat on a trestle bed: she looked composed, even serene, and smiled as I entered. 'Good evening, Master Shallot. You have come to gloat?'

Mandeville slammed the door behind me and turned the key. 'A place for a princess, eh, Shallot?'

I looked round the gaunt chamber. A cresset torch flickered high on the wall and tallow candles dripped their smelly wax on a shabby table.

'Stolen from the stables,' Rachel explained, catching my glance.

I took a stool from beneath the table and sat opposite her. Though pale and tired, she quickly assured me that she was being well looked after. She had been fed and was free from molestation. Mandeville had even withdrawn the guard from sitting in the cell with her.

They check me every so often.' She laughed. 'But there is nothing I can do. The only embarrassment is when I go to the latrines but I think the soldiers are more concerned about their plunder than they are about me. I suppose Mother and Sir John have fled?' I nodded. 'I thought as much.' 'Why did you do it?' I asked.

She shrugged and looked over my shoulder at the candle flame.

'The Templars have always existed,' she replied. 'And Templecombe is their home. In here now, Roger, I feel their ghosts pressing around me, applauding what I did. Mandeville and those bastards murdered Buckingham, and that fat slob in Westminster wishes to put his greedy fingers on the most precious relics in Christendom.' She shrugged. 'It was just a matter of planning.' 'But all those murders?'