The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

‘They have not changed,’ he said softly. ‘One day, they will be caught, and then all the lies in the world will not save them.’

He strode away before she could ask about his own dealings with the pair. Then, Cole shouted that he was ready, and led the way through the burned gates with the bishop’s retinue following. Stacpol and Elidor brought up the rear with the cart that carried Asser’s body.

‘Did you see that?’ Cole asked suddenly, reining in and staring into the bushes that lined the side of the road. ‘That flicker of movement?’

‘That is the second time you claim to have seen someone watching us today,’ called Stacpol. ‘Are you sure you are not imagining it?’

‘Yes,’ replied Cole shortly. ‘Quite sure.’

In the small hours of the morning, Cadifor slipped out of the dormitory and aimed for the gate. The guards Cole had set at the guesthouse pretended not to notice him: they had been told what Walter had come to do, and their sympathies lay firmly with the local monks. Once through the gate, Cadifor hurried to the castle, aiming to put his case to Bishop Geoffrey alone.

He was conducted to the solar. The fire had gone out hours before, so it was cold and dark. It was elegantly decorated, though, and he recognised Gwenllian’s hand in the tapestries that hung on the wall and the cushions that were strewn about the benches. It smelled of lavender and sage, and of the fresh rushes that had been scattered on the floor.

The bishop entered rubbing sleep from his eyes, but Cadifor’s arrival had also woken others. Cole, Stacpol and Elidor were fully dressed, unwilling to remove their armour while there was trouble in their town; Gwenllian wore a thick woollen cloak over her nightclothes.

‘I know this is an odd time for an audience, Your Grace,’ Cadifor began apologetically. ‘But I could not sleep for worry. I felt I was not sufficiently eloquent earlier – not like Walter.’

‘You were eloquent enough for me.’ Geoffrey smiled. ‘I do not believe Hempsted has a right to Carmarthen. I am on your side, Cadifor.’

Cadifor sighed his relief. ‘Thank God! Will you help me to challenge Walter?’

Geoffrey nodded. ‘And we shall begin by contesting that deed. I studied it carefully, and I am far from sure that it is genuine.’

‘I wish I could agree,’ said Cadifor unhappily. ‘But it came from the King sure enough. Belat and Henry are disagreeable characters, but they are not fools – it would be reckless to forge that sort of thing when it is likely to be inspected by the head of our Order.’

‘Cadifor is right,’ said Gwenllian. ‘I know the King’s seal, and I suspect His Majesty has given his support to Walter. Probably for a price.’

‘Why is Walter so keen to have Carmarthen?’ asked Elidor curiously. ‘It is not a wealthy house.’

‘Because of our wool,’ explained Cadifor. ‘Walter’s empire has now expanded to include several hundred monks, lay brothers and servants, all of whom need clothes and blankets. That is why he set greedy eyes on us.’

‘But how did he know about the wool?’ asked Cole. ‘You only sell it locally.’

‘I imagine Londres told him,’ surmised Gwenllian. ‘He must have heard that Hempsted was expanding, and wrote to inform Walter that Carmarthen is a plum ripe for the picking.’

‘Why would he do such a spiteful thing?’ asked Cole doubtfully.

‘His remit was to catch you doing something wrong, so you could be dismissed,’ she reminded him. ‘But he has failed. He is angry and resentful, and knows he will only escape from Carmarthen – which he has grown to hate – by discrediting you.’

‘Which this will,’ said Geoffrey soberly. ‘He will either report you for failing to protect the priory from hostile invaders, or for challenging the King’s writ. Either will see you in trouble, and allow him to return to Westminster.’

‘Politics,’ said Cole in distaste. ‘Prior Walter is a fool for letting Londres use him in his machinations. He should have just bought Carmarthen’s wool instead.’

‘Why, when this writ will let him get it for free?’ asked Cadifor bitterly. ‘Wool is currently fetching very high prices, so seizing our assets will save him a fortune.’

‘It is a pity that John allows his favour to be bought,’ sighed Geoffrey. ‘He is God’s anointed, and should set a better example. No wonder his barons oppose him.’

‘The greater pity is that Prior Roger is such a lazy scoundrel,’ said Stacpol. ‘He should keep his former daughter house in order, but instead, he trails along in Walter’s wake, moaning about the misery of winter travel.’

‘He is the epitome of sloth,’ said Cadifor. ‘Like his predecessor, Martin. Did I ever tell you about him? He was murdered on the very day that Walter came to declare Hempsted independent. Later, a message warning against the sin of sloth was etched on his coffin.’

‘Murdered by whom?’ asked Gwenllian, intrigued.

‘The killer was never caught, although I expect the culprit was one of Walter’s men, smarting over insults that were issued during a spat in Martin’s solar.’

‘Walter is slothful, too,’ remarked Geoffrey.

Cole blinked. ‘No! He is the opposite of sloth – willing to do anything to get what he wants.’

‘You think sloth means lazy,’ lectured Geoffrey. ‘But it is more insidious than that. It is a sluggishness of the mind that neglects to do good – an evil that oppresses man’s spirit, and draws him away from good deeds.’

‘The bishop is right,’ agreed Cadifor. ‘Walter is bored with himself and his life, and boredom represents an emptiness of the soul and a lack of passion. It-’

‘Walter has an abundance of passion,’ interrupted Cole, although he should have known better than to tackle two senior clerics about the nature of sin. ‘Especially for other people’s property. Unlike Roger. He is the one who lacks passion.’

‘He does,’ acknowledged Geoffrey. ‘But Walter is so obsessed by enlarging his domain that he fails to appreciate the beauty around him. Overwork is a form of sloth.’

‘Quite,’ nodded Cadifor. ‘It is easier to dedicate one’s life to obvious goals, like manipulating monarchs to grant you priories, than to sit back and appreciate God’s wondrous gifts. In my opinion, sloth is the deadliest of sins and-’

‘We need a plan,’ interrupted Gwenllian, suspecting the discussion might last all night if it was allowed to continue. ‘One that will see our priory keep its independence without bringing the King down on us in a fury.’

‘Oh, I know how to do that,’ said Geoffrey. ‘We simply find out how much Walter paid His Majesty for the writ, then offer to double it if he agrees to a retraction.’

Cole laughed. ‘And this is advice dispensed by a bishop?’

But Cadifor was dismayed. ‘Why should we resort to underhand tactics? Walter is in the wrong, and any decent person will see it.’

Geoffrey patted his arm. ‘In an ideal world you would be right, but this is one ruled by King John. If you want Carmarthen to remain independent, it will cost you in money.’

Cadifor closed his eyes in despair. ‘But we do not have that sort of capital.’

‘Then I shall lend you some,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Not from the diocesan coffers, as my treasurer will not approve, but from my personal finances. I am not a wealthy man, and the loan will beggar me until you repay it, but it will be worth the inconvenience.’

Cadifor sighed his relief. ‘Thank you! Although I fail to see what you will gain.’

‘I will gain not having Walter in my See,’ explained the bishop. ‘Four of my brother prelates have him in theirs, and they say he is nothing but trouble. Moreover, I admire what you have done here, and I should hate it to be undone.’