The Medieval Murderers - The Tainted Relic

Jonathan officiously barged past the group of neighbours huddled at the door and stood near Simon. The bailiff could hear him swallow as though with difficulty, like a man with a mouthful of dry bread and nothing to drink to ease it down. ‘The poor soul.’

A sergeant in the doorway hawked and spat. ‘She was only a whore, Brother.’

Jonathan turned slowly and fixed the man with a look of withering contempt. ‘Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, my son. And she was praised by the Lord for her kindness.’

‘You stick to what you know from your books, Brother,’ the sergeant said unabashed. ‘Me, I’ll stick to what I know. Moll was a nice enough girl, but she was still a whore and there’s nothing more to be said.’

‘Shut up,’ Simon ordered, sickened both by the sight of the young woman and by this man’s casual attitude towards her death. ‘Where’s the man who found her?’

The fellow from outside was brought in, and he stood anxiously wringing his hands, seemingly looking all over the room except at Moll.

‘Who are you?’ Baldwin asked.

The man threw a nervous look over his shoulder. Then he seemed to sag as he recognized some faces. ‘I’m called Peter from Sidmouth.’

Baldwin and Simon questioned him for some while, but he had witnesses who confirmed that he had been at a tavern with them. Before that, he had been at his stall in the market, and plenty of people vouched for his presence all morning and afternoon. It appeared he was innocent of any crime.

‘There is no sign of the weapon,’ Baldwin said. ‘It must have been a heavy club of some sort. The killer took it away with him. Find that, and we’ve got a murderer.’

Simon nodded, then called, ‘Did she have any special customers recently? It could have been a new gull did this to her.’

‘I saw her with a new man,’ a man said. He said his name was Jack, and his voice was quiet as he took in the sight of the ruined body. ‘No one should do that to a maid!’

‘Who was this new man?’ Simon asked.

‘I don’t rightly know,’ Jack admitted. ‘He was in the Rache the other evening, and I saw him talking to her there, but I didn’t think much of it. Why should I, knowing how she earned her crust? He was a tall bastard. Tall and rangy, dressed all in black. His cloak had seen better days. Oh, he had good black boots, too.’

‘You remember him clearly, this man? Can you describe his face?’

‘Easily done. Skinny face, like he’d lived in it a while. Dark eyes, very intense. You know, the sort that don’t blink hardly at all? That was how he looked, like he was looking through you all the time, not bothering to see the outside. He was looking at your soul.’

Baldwin joined them, wiping bloodied hands on his tunic. ‘You would say all that from a glimpse as you entered the tavern?’

‘I caught sight of him, and you don’t forget a man’s face like that. His eyes were on me as soon as I was over the threshold. And anyway, I was looking about me carefully.’

‘Why?’ Simon asked.

‘Well, that daft sod Will had left just before me, and I was going inside for a pot of ale when bloody Adam came out in a hurry and nearly knocked me down. Clumsy git. He was always like that, even before he left the city. He can’t help it. I think he never realized that life is different when you get older. When he was a youngster he was always good with his fists, and as he grew up, his mind was set on using his fists or a dagger to resolve any problems.’

‘Could he have killed a woman like this?’ Simon asked.

Jack stared, gaping, but although his head shook slowly, his eyes were drawn back to the body on the floor, and his expression hardened. ‘He knew her, certainly.’

There was an angry muttering from the doorway as the men watching realized what had been said, and the sergeant had to thump the butt of his staff on the ground and bellow to silence them all.

Baldwin thought. ‘It is possible he had a part in this murder, and also the death outside Moll’s door, too: Will’s murder. Moll’s death could have been committed to silence a witness.’

Simon glanced about the room. ‘If she saw something, perhaps it was the man she was with in the tavern?’

Glancing at Jack, Baldwin considered. ‘Jack? What do you say to that? When did Moll leave the tavern?’

‘I don’t know. A little while after me, I suppose. I saw her with the man at the corner of the tavern and when I left they’d gone. I don’t know when they walked out-didn’t seem important at the time.’

‘Will had gone, and a short time later Adam hared off out. Perhaps that is the explanation,’ Simon suggested. ‘Maybe Adam killed Will, and then came here to kill off the only witness: Moll.’

‘The killer surely returned to murder the witness,’ Baldwin agreed. He looked at the sergeant in the doorway. ‘But who killed Adam?’

‘There was one other person I saw up here earlier,’ the sergeant said with a frown on his face. ‘That girl, Rob’s friend, Annie. She was here.’

‘Do you have any idea why she might have taken such an irrational hatred to this girl that she could do this?’ Simon asked.

‘Moll was a whore. She could have stolen Annie’s lover.’

The man was already in a great deal of pain, but the jug of burned wine at his side was helping. His brow was very sweaty, but Joseph applied a cool cloth to ease his pain as best he might.

‘It’s my duty…must get it to the bishop…’

‘What is the relic?’ Joseph asked calmly.

John Mantravers sat up agitatedly. ‘The relic! De Beaujeu’s cursed relic! I have to take it to safety!’

‘Be calm, my son, please-sit back, calm yourself,’ Joseph pleaded.

‘It’s cursed! All who touch it will die! I must take it! My sin, ach, my crime! God, help me!’

It was very late by the time Baldwin and Simon returned to their inn, and although Simon dropped off to sleep quickly, Baldwin found himself reluctant to slumber. In his mind he kept seeing de Beaujeu fall.

Guillaume de Beaujeu had been a strong and intelligent leader. Skilled in politics, he was the only voice warning of the imminence of invasion in the months before the disaster, but he never complained. He told the people of the risk to the Holy Kingdom, but they scoffed, and most of them were to pay with their lives.

The treasure of the Templars was rescued. First Thibaud took it all to Sidon, and then to Cyprus, where he died. Soon Jacques de Molay was the Grand Master, and the relics and treasure were transported to the Paris Temple for safe-keeping. All the Templars knew that. Even Baldwin had heard of the shipments of gold and valuables.

Yet this one relic was in England. Was it something to do with the parchments? De Beaujeu implied that it was his, or that there was some sort of responsibility placed upon him with this relic. There had been rumours that he had prayed on the night before his death, taking some of the relics and using them to enhance his pleas to God. Perhaps this was one such. Baldwin couldn’t tell. In Acre he had not yet joined the Order. That came later, and he never had the chance to advance very far.

He prayed that he might at least learn the secret of this relic. He felt that there was a duty on him to see to it that any debt de Beaujeu had incurred was paid back. If the Templars, or de Beaujeu himself, had cause to protect this specific relic, Baldwin would see to it that their wishes were honoured. He owed that to the Grand Master’s memory.

With that thought, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but still it evaded him, and at last he gave up. In the early hours of the morning he rose and padded across to a window, leaning on the wall and watching as the light changed outside. He felt sad, and the pity of it was, he didn’t know why.