The Medieval Murderers - The Tainted Relic

He could smile to himself at the thought. Mind, the chance of misbehaviour would be a pleasant thing. Even if he’d grown a paunch and didn’t need to worry so much about shaving his tonsure since most of his hair had disappeared, his brown eyes were still attractive to women; but he believed that they mostly saw him as a pleasant old soul, rather than a risk to their virginity. So be it. They were probably right.

Not old at some four-and-forty years, Joseph was that rare creature, a man who was entirely satisfied with his life. He knew his position in the world: he was a monk in the hospital of St John, with responsibility for the treatment of sick travellers. Normally this wasn’t a particularly arduous task, of course, but there was a steady trickle of people coming through the city asking for attention. Since the famine there had been fewer people passing through, but Joseph didn’t care. He had the garden to keep him busy. There was always something to do.

Whistling as he walked to the little lean-to shed beside the priory’s wall, he heard a call. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a man up at the gate with the porter, then more men behind him in the gateway, and he frowned a little. They were carrying something-a heavy sack or bundle. Or body.

Dropping his tools, he started to run to the gate.

Rob kept starting and staring at the door, but whenever it opened, there was never any sign of Andrew. ‘Where is he?’

‘Sit down and shut up. We’ve got the stuff to split up.’

Adam nodded. ‘Will’s right, Rob. If Andrew didn’t want to come and get his money, that’s his lookout.’

‘But where is he? He ought to be here.’

Will leaned back easily until his back was against the wall. He was a good-looking lad in a bold way. Only two and twenty, he had fine fair hair, somewhat lank, which constantly drooped over his grey eyes, concealing the fact that there was a slight cast in his left. He wore a cheap and faded grey fustian tunic and dull green hose, and he pulled at a loose thread at his knee as he gazed at Rob. ‘Look, he’s not here. We can either wait, or divvie it all up now. Right?’

Rob frowned. ‘I’ll take his share, then, and…’

‘Oh no,’ Will said smoothly. ‘I’ll keep his share safe. We’ll see what we do with it later. For now, we’ll just make four shares. Tell him to come to me later and we’ll work it out.’

Not for the first time, Rob wondered what he was doing with these two. There were other men he could have worked with, but no, Andrew had said that these two were safer for them.

‘There’s strength in numbers, Robbie, boy,’ he’d said. ‘We’re half the gang, and while we’re half, we’re safe. If I ever disappear, though, you look to yourself.’

And now Andrew wasn’t here. Rob had seen Will knock the cleric down, and it was as he was grabbing the bag from his shoulder that the madman appeared, howling and screaming at them, waving his sword wildly like a berserker. Rob had fled in the face of that lunatic, and he’d thought the others had too. But there was no sign of Andrew when he got back to the stable, and although he’d waited there for an age, there was still no Andrew when he came here to the alehouse for the sharing.

Will took his silence for agreement, and leaned forward over the rough table. The bag had a purse inside, and in it were a few coins, carefully counted into piles and passed about the table. There were some clothes, a shirt which Will claimed, a spoon which Adam took, and a little knife, which Will thought Andrew would like, and which he placed with the pile of coins ready for Andrew to collect. He glanced at Rob challengingly as he did so, but Rob didn’t care. His mind was on his brother, wondering where he was.

The fear was like a cold trickle of water running down his back at the thought that Andrew may not have survived. Sweet Jesus, don’t let him be hurt, Rob thought. The only man he knew and trusted in the world surely couldn’t have been taken from him.

‘Marge, bring us ale!’ Adam shouted to the woman at the bar. She brought jugs, ignoring the fact that the three were concealing their booty on the table. Will stared at her with empty eyes as she set drinking horns on the table, the blankness a threat. She met his look with contempt, curled her lip and returned to the bar.

‘What’s this?’ Will muttered as he reached into the bottom of the satchel, a frown darkening his brow.

Rob watched as he brought the thing out. It was a bag of purple material with a draw-string loosely tied. Will untied the string. Inside was a package wrapped in fine pigskin. When he unfolded the leather, he revealed a small box.

It was an attractive little casket of dark wood. There were intricate carvings over it, and metal glinted in the recesses. Yellow metal. Instinctively all three men leaned forward, their heads almost touching as Will pulled the lid open and stared inside.

There was a fine felt cloth, again in purple. And on it lay a glass vial, much marked and dirty. The glass was scratched and grey, as though ancient, with a greenish tinge. There were two pieces of parchment beside the vial. Will plucked them up and glanced at them for a moment, but he had no use for scribbles. He threw them on the floor irritably so that he could stare more closely at the vial. Picking it up, he pulled the stopper free, upending it into the palm of his hand.

A sliver of silvery-grey wood fell out. The three gazed at it, then at each other.

Adam was the first to break the silence. He picked it up and began to chuckle, his voice a hoarse rasp that was somehow shocking in the tavern. ‘A piece of turd! I like that!’

‘It’s not that,’ Will said, and he too was grinning. He took it and studied it. ‘I think it’s old wood.’

‘Throw it on the fire, then. The box should fetch a few pennies, though,’ Adam said, and reached for the casket.

‘No, we’ll leave it as it was,’ Will said, putting his hand on the box. He carefully inserted the piece off wood back in the vial and stoppered it, putting the vial back in the box and closing it.

Adam pulled a face. ‘Let me have a look at it.’

‘Leave it, Adam. There are other things to worry about. Look at Rob there, worried about his brother. You should be thinking more of his feelings.’

Rob glanced at Will, and saw a cynical, cold expression on his face, and was suddenly sure that he would have to protect himself against Will. Andrew had been right, as usual. Together they had been half the gang-now he was only one member of a larger band, and no longer held the balance of power.

There was something else, too. Will sat quietly, one hand upon the box. Adam’s hand was near the box. It was as though Will was challenging Adam to try to take it from him. Adam saw the expression in Will’s eye, too, and wasn’t sure he wanted to accept the challenge. He lowered his head with displeasure. ‘I want the thing.’

‘Then buy it,’ Will said. ‘You want it, you give me back all your coins from tonight, and then you can have it.’

‘When Andrew gets here, he’ll make you two give it to him anyway,’ Rob said.

Will didn’t look at him. ‘You think so? Perhaps it’s too late for that. I’ve taken a fancy to this box, and I will keep it.’

‘You aren’t the leader of our group yet,’ Adam snarled.

‘I think I am.’

Will, having spoken, drew the box towards him. Adam said sneeringly, ‘You take the thing, then. It’s nothing to me. But remember this, it’s not yours or anyone’s-it’s ours-and you don’t have the right to do anything with it.’

‘Then I’ll buy it from you,’ Will said easily. He took half his money and then hesitated. ‘No, we’re here to drink, and Andrew isn’t. We’ll sell this thing to him.’