The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

The youth hesitated, but the prospect of warmth and food was too tempting to resist. He drew the cloak around him, then trotted obediently after them to the castle. They took him to the office, where Cole grimaced when he heard Alys and the bishop singing together. It was a song he had taught her, but it sounded better with Geoffrey’s tenor than his toneless bass. The Austin ate three bowls of stew, and when he had finished, Gwenllian indicated that he was to start talking.

‘I am Oswin,’ the lad obliged. ‘From Llanthony. I was a novice when Martin was killed, but I have taken my vows since, so I am now a canon. I overheard the argument in Martin’s solar when Walter declared Hempsted’s independence. And I know a secret, which I have only ever revealed to one other person…’

‘Who?’ asked Cole suspiciously.

‘I would rather not say. But I can tell you that I shared it for the first time last night.’

‘Why not before?’

‘Because I was frightened. However, when I heard that Walter intended to steal Carmarthen, I tried to arrive first, to warn Cadifor. But Walter had horses while I was obliged to travel on foot, and I arrived to find that Walter had beaten me by an hour. It was all for nothing.’

‘Yet you believe that something might still be salvaged, or you would have gone home,’ surmised Cole. ‘I have seen you several times, lurking in the bushes.’

Oswin smiled wanly. ‘My adventures on the way here have taught me how to hide myself, although you almost caught me.’

‘You say you came to warn Cadifor.’ Gwenllian spoke quickly, lest Cole should distract him by offering practical tips on evading pursuers. ‘About what? Walter’s plans?’

‘No – about the fact that a murderer is at large.’

‘You know who killed Asser and Roger?’ demanded Cole eagerly. ‘Who?’

‘The same man who poisoned Martin. And I was right to be concerned, given that Roger and your knight died in suspicious circumstances.’

‘How do you know Martin was poisoned?’ asked Gwenllian sceptically. ‘We have been told that there was no proof.’

‘Because I was with him when he died.’ Oswin’s voice was unsteady. ‘It was my turn to act as his servant, you see, and I was in his solar, dousing candles and closing the shutters. He was sitting at his table, grumbling about Walter’s high-handed tactics while he scoffed marchpanes. Then he stopped talking…’

‘And?’ prompted Gwenllian.

‘I went to see if he was unwell. His eyes were closed, so I shook his arm. He woke, but it was an effort, and it was then that he told me the marchpanes had been dosed with a powerful soporific. I did not believe him at first, but he was insistent… I wanted to fetch help, but he would not let me – he knew he would be dead before I came back.’

‘What else did he say?’ asked Gwenllian urgently.

‘That the sin of sloth had caused Llanthony to lose Hempsted, which was true – if he had written to the Pope, we would still have a daughter house. Then he told me that a visitor had killed him. It was no one from Llanthony, because we had no almonds. The gift of poisoned march-panes had come from a guest.’

‘Then why did you not report all this to your superiors?’ asked Cole. ‘Straight away?’

‘Would you accuse high-ranking Austins and two royal clerks?’ asked Oswin archly. He looked Cole up and down. ‘Well, perhaps you might, but I was little more than a boy.’

‘A high-ranking Austin?’ pounced Gwenllian. ‘Not one of the ordinary canons who accompanied him?’

‘Martin specifically said that his killer was high ranking,’ replied Oswin firmly. ‘Which means Walter, Gilbert, Belat or Henry. All four of them wanted him dead, so that Roger could be appointed instead – Martin could be stubborn, but Roger is weak and malleable.’ He looked miserably at his shoes. ‘Martin’s death has gnawed at my conscience ever since.’

‘It has not gnawed too hard, or you would have done something about it sooner,’ remarked Cole.

Oswin winced. ‘I told you – I was afraid. But I have done something now: I came all the way here on my own, hoping to prevent another death. I failed, but not for want of trying.’

‘What made you think someone else would die?’ asked Gwenllian.

Oswin shivered, despite the warmth of the fire. ‘The fact that those four “high-ranking” men went to Llanthony on their way here, and ordered Roger to accompany them. Why do that? It made no sense. I could tell they were planning something untoward, because they kept talking in low voices, scheming and plotting…’

‘They brought him as a hostage, to ensure Llanthony did nothing against Hempsted while its two most powerful monks were away,’ explained Gwenllian. ‘And of course they were scheming and plotting – they aimed to invade a sister house and claim it for themselves.’

‘Then why did they not say so?’ demanded Oswin.

Gwenllian smiled at his innocence. ‘It is hardly something they could announce, and I am sure your older brethren understood exactly what was happening. Did you talk to any of them before you left?’

‘No, because they would have stopped me – or asked me what I knew about Martin’s death, which I dare not share with them now. They would never trust me again!’

Gwenllian stood. ‘I had better rescue the bishop before Alys drives him to distraction. That must be the twentieth time they have sung that song.’

She ushered Oswin out, and told Iefan to find him somewhere to sleep.

‘Damn,’ muttered Cole when sergeant and Austin had gone. ‘I had eliminated Walter and Gilbert from your list, but now they are suspects again.’

‘Only if you believe Oswin’s tale,’ said Gwenllian.

Cole blinked. ‘You do not?’

‘I am not sure, Symon. He has kept his guilty secret for three years, and it is odd that he should break his silence now – not once, but twice in as many days. And why does he refuse to tell us who else he has confided in?’

‘So what shall we do about his confession – such as it is?’

‘There is only one thing we can do: speak again to Walter, Gilbert, Belat and Henry, to see if we can catch them out in an inconsistency. But do not be too hopeful. They have sharp minds, and will not be easy to trip up.’

‘You are more than their equal,’ said Cole confidently.

Gwenllian asked Bishop Geoffrey to accompany them to the priory, feeling his presence would be a calming influence. They arrived to find Walter with his hand to his stomach, but the lines of pain around his mouth lessened once Geoffrey had requisitioned ingredients from the kitchen to make a soothing tincture, and it was not long before the colour returned to his cheeks.

‘You should rest more,’ said the prelate admonishingly. ‘Take some time to appreciate what God has given you, instead of racing around trying to acquire more.’

Walter shot him an unpleasant look, then refused to answer any of the questions Gwenllian or Cole put. Gilbert followed his example, and they sat side by side with their arms folded and their lips sealed shut. Eventually, Cole threw up his hands in exasperation.

‘Perhaps I should arrest you both, and keep you incarcerated until your Prior General tells me who is guilty of killing Roger and Asser.’

‘And Martin.’ Geoffrey regarded the two canons sternly. ‘Symon and Gwenllian are trying to help, and if you have nothing to hide, you need not fear their investigation.’

‘We do not fear it,’ said Walter coldly. ‘We just do not accept their authority to interrogate senior members of the Church. And now, if there is nothing else, we have business to attend.’

He stalked out, Gilbert loping at his heels, and their unwillingness to co-operate served to put them firmly at the top of Gwenllian’s list of suspects. After all, why would they be obstructive if they had nothing to hide?