The Medieval Murderers - The Tainted Relic

‘You must not touch it,’ explained Urban. ‘If you do, you will die-just as Witney has done. Father Andrew’s relic is the reason for our long journey: we are taking it to the abbey at Norwich, where similar holy items are held.’

‘Urban!’ snapped Andrew. ‘What have I told you about speaking before you are asked?’

Urban sighed, and pulled the kind of face that indicated he thought the story would be told sooner or later anyway, and that he had just saved everyone a good deal of trouble. He went to stand near the window, making Bartholomew wonder whether he craved distance from his difficult teacher or from the corpse that lay next to the hearth, eyes still gazing sightlessly at the ceiling.

‘A relic?’ asked Michael, regarding the pouch uneasily. ‘You are wearing a relic around your neck? That is unwise: real ones do not like being used like charms.’

‘You are right,’ replied Andrew. ‘And this is an especially powerful one that comes with a curse for all those who dare to lay hands on it.’

‘Relics cannot be cursed,’ said Bartholomew immediately. ‘They are holy. A malediction would render yours un holy, which means it cannot be a relic. What you are saying is a theological impossibility.’

Andrew ignored him. ‘An Arab called Barzak set the spell after the first of the Crusades. I saw its power thirty years ago in Devonshire, while Urban will tell you a story about a long-dead coroner called John de Wolfe and how death surrounded him when he encountered its power.’

‘And there was Master Falconer, the Oxford philosopher,’ added Urban eagerly. ‘He saw it-’ He fell silent as Andrew’s stern gaze settled on him again.

The old man’s glare shifted to Bartholomew, who was looking openly sceptical. ‘Barzak’s evil oath has been active for centuries, and anyone who touches the sacred wood contained in this vial will die.’

‘You have touched it,’ Michael pointed out, although he made no attempt to move closer to the friar. He was not a superstitious man, but it was not unknown for relics to be dangerous, and it seemed a pity to end a glorious university career for the want of a little caution. ‘But you are not dead.’

‘I will be,’ replied Andrew calmly. ‘As soon as it leaves my possession-either when I deliver it to Norwich, or when I am obliged to entrust another man to take it there.’ He gestured to Urban, to indicate that the novice could speak if he liked.

‘Evil men are killed quickly,’ elaborated Urban obligingly. Michael edged away, unsure of how he stood in respect of his virtue in the eyes of God and His saints. ‘But good ones are permitted to carry it to a place where it will be safe. It has rested with Father Andrew for nigh on three decades, mostly in Exeter.’

‘Then why choose now to move it?’ demanded Michael. ‘And why inflict it on Cambridge first?’

‘It was not our intention to bring trouble to your town,’ replied Andrew apologetically. ‘And you are right to question my timing: I waited too long, and should have carried it to a safe place years ago. But I was happy in Exeter, and the relic was safe enough, lodged in the altar of a priory within the city’s great walls, and it is difficult for a content man to decide to end his life.’

‘But then a new prior was appointed,’ continued Urban. ‘And Father Andrew is afraid he might destroy it. We do not want it burned, and nor did we want Prior John de Burgo to die trying to demonstrate that it has no power.’

‘I see,’ said Michael flatly. ‘This is quite a tale. And what is this relic, exactly? We had a lock of the Virgin’s hair once, but it disappeared.’

‘It is a fragment of the True Cross, stained with Holy Blood.’ Andrew opened the pouch and withdrew two pieces of parchment. He proffered them to the monk, but Michael gripped his wrist and moved it into the light, taking great care not to touch the documents himself.

‘This says it was found in Jerusalem,’ he said, scanning the meagre contents of the first. ‘In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and it is authenticated by Geoffrey Mappestone, Knight. The second is a warning by Guillaume de Beaujeu, who says the relic was bought with innocent blood and is utterly cursed. “Any man who touches the fragment of Holy Cross will die as soon as the relic is relinquished.”’

‘Guillaume de Beaujeu was a Grand Master of the Knights Templar,’ said Bartholomew, recalling the sorry history of that order. ‘It must be genuine, then.’

‘It is genuine,’ said Andrew quietly. ‘I have an ancient wound that pains me, and I feel myself becoming weaker with every day that passes. I must leave for Norwich tomorrow. I do not want to press my burden on Urban.’

‘I do not mind, Father,’ said Urban bravely.

Bartholomew glanced at him, wondering whether he was a little too eager. Did he believe in Barzak’s curse? Or did he see Andrew’s weakness as a means to gain hold of something that was obviously valuable? Many abbeys and priories were willing to pay veritable fortunes for relics, and the crumbling parchments indicated that this one was as authentic as most. Even if it had not performed miracles when it was first purchased, he knew it was only a matter of time before unscrupulous or malleable men started to spread stories to the contrary. And then there would be pilgrims; pilgrims left donations, and they needed inns, food and clothes. Many people would grow rich once a relic had produced a few timely cures.

‘I know, Urban,’ said Andrew kindly. His expression became wistful. ‘I had that honour in mind for another man, but he betrayed me years ago.’

Michael waited, expecting him to elaborate, but the Carmelite merely sat on a bench and began to put his relic away. The monk moved the discussion along, to mask the fact that he did not know what to think about the curious tale.

‘All this is very interesting, but what does your relic have to do with Witney?’

‘He tried to steal it,’ replied Urban. ‘He discovered what Father Andrew carries so close to his heart, and he was determined to have it for himself. He weaselled his way into our confidence, and when Father Andrew showed it to him, he tried to grab it.’

‘He used a knife to slice through the thong,’ explained Andrew, showing Michael a bright new cut across the dark leather strap. ‘He was almost out of the door before Urban wrestled him to the ground. While they struggled, I managed to retrieve it. However, before I did, the stopper came loose and the relic fell out. It brushed Witney’s arm when he and Urban were rolling across the floor.’

‘Are you saying Witney died because he touched a relic?’ asked Bartholomew, seeing the direction in which the explanation was heading. He had witnessed enough murder and mayhem since qualifying as a physician to know that people were capable of all manner of vile acts, and he was always sceptical when suspects tried to blame suspicious deaths on supernatural phenomena.

‘Of course,’ said Andrew. ‘And now I must take it to Norwich before anyone else pays such a high price for his greed or his curiosity. You cannot arrest me-although I accept responsibility for Witney’s death-because more people will die if I do not fulfil my obligations.’

‘No,’ said Michael firmly. ‘You will stay here until I am satisfied no crime took place. Perhaps this relic did take Witney’s life because he dared lay profane fingers on it, but perhaps his sudden demise has a more earthly explanation. Either way, I intend to find out.’

‘Why did Witney want it?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘To sell?’

‘He is-was-a Franciscan, and if you know about the Holy Blood polemic, then you will be aware of the stance the Grey Friars have taken on the matter. No doubt he saw one in the hands of a poor Carmelite, and was afraid I would destroy it-or worse, give it to the Dominicans.’