The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

Oswin’s mind raced. ‘They were already in the chapel when we arrived, Father William. Labourers making repairs probably left them there for safekeeping overnight.’

Father William glanced along the table. ‘Have you given any workman a key, Father Thomas? Given orders for any repairs?’

‘None,’ Thomas said. ‘As our young brother reminded us himself, the family has died out and the money they left for the maintenance of the chapel has run out.’

The subdean leaned his elbows on the table, his fingers pressed together as he gazed at Oswin. ‘You see, that is something else that troubles me, Father Oswin. You say that the cart and spades belonged to some labourers, yet when the chapel was searched, my nephew’s cloak was found under the spades in the cart. I can understand that if he found the cart and spades already in the chapel, he might have tossed his cloak on top of them. But why would he go to the trouble of lifting the spades and placing his cloak underneath such dirty tools. Were you perhaps expecting to be translated from the chapel into heaven in a whirlwind for this act of piety of yours, and my nephew, fearful that such a wind would also carry his heavy fur-lined cloak away with it, felt compelled to anchor it down?’

Oswin tried to speak, but Father Thomas interrupted: ‘I’ve no doubt you can invent an explanation for that, too, but let’s stop wasting time. Father Robert’s cloak was found in the cart covered with short hairs, which at first I thought might belong to the male corpse, but in fact they match the strangely cropped hair on the woman’s skull. The cloak was also smeared with…’ He wrinkled his face as if he was going to vomit. ‘Let us just describe it as other of her bodily remains. Not to put to finer point on it, the cloak stank of the woman’s corpse. So, the only conclusion we may draw is that you three covered the woman’s corpse in the cloak and used the cart to carry it to the chapel, where you concealed it in the sepulchre, for what diabolic purpose I cannot yet tell.’

The treasurer leaned forward and continued. ‘As for the dead man, he has been identified as a young cleric in minor orders from the Church of St Rumbold, who has not been seen since vespers two nights ago. I only had to take one look his body to see he’d been stabbed to death. So what exactly were you planning to do with these corpses, Father Oswin? Use them to raise demons or conjure the spirits of the dead? Then what were you going to do? Bury them together in whichever grave you stole the girl’s body from, so that the murder of this poor young man should go undetected?’

Subdean William sucked his breath in through his teeth. ‘I warned the dean that allowing a priest as young and arrogant as Father Oswin to study the arts of necromancy and the conjuring of spirits was a mistake. And I regret to say, I’ve been proved entirely right. The Devil will turn these Holy Mysteries to his own wicked purposes in those who are too inexperienced to handle such dangerous knowledge. And it seems Father Oswin has dragged other innocent young men, including my nephew, into this foul pit with him.’

The gaoler flung Oswin back in the cell and backed out.

‘Am I to get any food?’ Oswin called out, as the key grated in the lock. But the only answer was the sound of footsteps walking away.

He slid down the wall and onto the straw. At least they hadn’t put him in irons, not yet anyway. And none of the three interrogators had mentioned the cross, so that must mean that they hadn’t yet discovered it was missing or they hadn’t connected its disappearance to Giles’s murder, which was at least something. And with luck, they never would. There was no reason for them to suspect a link, unless the treasurer really did believe Robert a thief. Then he’d only too readily believe him a murderer, too, and Oswin and John at the very least his accomplices.

Although Father William and Father Thomas had made a lot of nasty accusations, they’d as good as admitted they didn’t actually know what he’d been planning to do with the corpses, nor could they prove he’d killed either one of them. Oswin was trying desperately to convince himself that things weren’t really that bad, but he knew they were.

He banged his head against the wall, trying to think. Nothing… nothing made sense. And the situation could only get worse when Robert and John were questioned. They’d surely have the wit to go along with the story that the three of them had gone to the chapel to say Mass, since they’d heard him tell the sergeant-at-arms that tale. But what would they say about the handcart? Oswin realised that he’d no idea which of them had had the foresight to bring it to the chapel. John probably; it was the kind of practical thing he’d think of, and he could far more easily lay his hands on a cart than Robert. But would he have the wit to lie about it?

Father Thomas had said Robert’s cloak was soiled with the remains of the girl. So had the traces got there because they were in the cart, which John had used to carry her to the chapel, or had they stained the cloak because Robert had been the one who’d dragged her corpse there?

But why would either Robert or John do such a thing? It was in all of their interests to bury Giles’s body where no one could find it and quietly return to their duties. Unless… unless Eustace was the one behind it. Had he been the person who’d reported seeing someone in the chapel to the watchmen? That chapel was so remote from houses or the city walls, who else would have noticed the light? Was that why he hadn’t come, because he knew the men-at-arms were on their way? If he’d stolen the cross and murdered Giles, he might well have alerted the authorities, so the three of them were caught red-handed to divert suspicion from himself.

Had Eustace planted the body of the girl, so that it would appear the corpses were being used in the dark arts, knowing that Oswin would be sure to be accused, given his training? Oswin swore violently, thumping his fists against his head. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? The vicious little weasel was certainly clever enough to come up with that as a plan, and spiteful enough to carry it out. But how on earth was he going to prove it?

The key grated in the lock once more, and he raised his head as the gaoler waddled in carrying two pails, spilling water from one of them as he walked. The other, judging by the smell, was the piss bucket He set both down next to each other and drew a flattened loaf of bread from under his sweaty armpit, tossing it into Oswin’s lap.

‘That’s your breakfast. It’s your dinner and supper, too, so don’t gobble it all down at once; but if I was you I wouldn’t try to save any of it overnight, otherwise the mice’ll have it afore you do.’

‘Bread and water,’ Oswin said in dismay. ‘How long am I to fast on this?’

‘Every day for as long as you’re in the carcer. That’s the rule in here, so it is. So you’d best get praying they get this business over soon, else it’s going to be a long, cold and hungry winter for you.’

Eustace stood in the Cathedral Close, trying to make up his mind what to do. He’d watched the arrest of Oswin, Robert and John from the bushes near the chapel, seen them being dragged out and marched down the dark track towards the city behind its great thick walls. A while later, his legs numb and stiff from the cold, he’d seen a troop of the bishop’s men-at-arms ride up to the chapel, followed more slowly by a long covered wagon, which was backed up to the door. After what seemed like hours, the riders and wagon set off back to the city gate, leaving one man standing on a miserable and lonely watch at the door, blowing into his hands and stamping his feet to keep warm.

Eustace had cursed under his breath. His plan had been to search the chapel, just in case one of the Black Crows had managed to hide the cross in there, but he hadn’t bargained on them leaving a guard on the door. Still, they wouldn’t leave a guard there for ever.