The Medieval Murderers - The First Murder

The almoner could barely keep from smirking when he announced that he had personally apprehended the murderer of the poor Ely lad, Luke. The two monks who had in fact caught Martin exchanged sour looks, but they were resigned to their superiors taking credit for anything that had gone well, though they were never so eager to take the blame when things went amiss.

Prior Alan lowered himself into the chair at the far end of the long table.

‘Come closer.’

The two lay brothers shoved Martin forward with such force that, with his wrists bound behind him, he almost fell sprawling across the table, but he pulled himself upright.

‘There’s been a mistake… I confessed that I begged a little food at the alms gate, but my poor mother is dying-’

‘Dying now, is she?’ the almoner said. ‘She’s suffered a remarkably sudden decline in her health. Just now you told us she was merely bedridden.’

‘She’s bedridden because she’s dying,’ Martin said, glowering at him. ‘Please, Father Prior, I have to get back to her. Suppose she should die alone, thinking her only son has abandoned her? I swear I will return and undertake any penance you wish. But you would surely not deny an old woman the comfort of her son’s hand in her final hours.’

The almoner opened his mouth to protest but the prior held up his hand to silence him. ‘You say this is the man we thought was dead. How do you know it’s him?’

The almoner looked round for Ben, who had retreated to the furthest corner and was gazing round the long panelled room in wide-eyed astonishment.

‘The boy identified him. He’s the lad who acted the part of Isaac in The Play of Adam . And I understand the lad’s father is one of the men you arrested, Father Prior . You, boy, come here.’

Ben was so busy staring at the brightly stitched wall hangings that he didn’t even seem to be aware he was being talked about, never mind addressed. Impatiently the almoner strode over and grabbed him, propelling him towards where the prior sat.

Prior Alan adopted what he clearly thought was a kindly expression, but it did nothing to reassure the boy, who stared at him like a rabbit bewitched by a stoat.

‘Do you see the man with his hands bound?’

Ben’s gaze flicked to Martin and back to the prior. He nodded, uncertain why the prior should be asking him if he could see someone who was standing only feet away, unless Martin really was a ghost.

‘Do you know who he is?’

‘M… Martin.’

‘No, I swear I’m not. I know no one of that name. I live out in the fens. I came to Ely to find food for my poor dying mother. I’ve never seen this boy before. The child is mistaken.’

I’m not,’ Ben said indignantly. ‘You are Martin and there was a half-noble in the bag. You stole it.’

‘You see the boy is clearly making all this up. No doubt he hopes for a reward.’

Prior Alan gestured to the two lay brothers. ‘Be so good as to find Subprior Stephen and ask him to come here. He’s spoken to the actor on several occasions; if this is the fellow Stephen will know. And please fetch Custodian Will too. You need not return here yourselves. When we have done with the prisoner, I shall send for you again to conduct him to the hell-pit. Whoever he may prove to be, one thing is clear, he is guilty of posing as a cripple to beg for alms and he will be punished for that, though I suspect that will prove to be the very least of his crimes.’

When Stephen came hurrying into the prior’s hall, no one could be left in any doubt as to the identity of the man.

‘That’s him, that’s Martin,’ Stephen said the moment he caught sight of him. ‘So he is alive. Where did you find him?’

The almoner had been anticipating this question and had been rehearsing the words of his gloating reply in his head while they had been waiting, but he never got a chance to utter them.

Prior Alan at once dismissed him from the hall, together with the two monks, ordering that the boy should be taken to the kitchens there to be given a generous basket of food and a few coins by way of a reward. Scowling, the almoner marched Ben from the room, gripping his shoulder so tightly in his indignation at being excluded that the lad would have protested had he not been so delighted at the prospect of taking home not just a loaf but a whole feast.

When the heavy door had closed behind them, Prior Alan turned his attention back to his prisoner. ‘You look remarkably well for a man who’s been dead for over two weeks.’

Martin said nothing. Even he realised that there was little point in continuing to deny who he was. They had only to bring his cousin, Henry, here, or Cuddy or John. They would take the greatest pleasure in identifying him.

Prior Alan rose and paced the length of the room. Only when he reached the far end did he turn and address Martin.

‘So, you murdered your fellow player Luke. You cut the head from the corpse and hid it, and you dressed him in your robes. The question is why? Was it to make everyone believe you were dead, so that you could escape with the relic?’

Martin gaped at him. Only a few of the words had filtered through the panic fogging his mind. ‘ Murder? No! No! I swear it on the bones of every saint in Ely, I did not kill Luke. He was already dead when I found him.’

‘I seem to recall just moments ago you swearing you were not Martin,’ Alan said coldly. ‘It would appear little value can be placed upon your oaths.’

‘But it’s true. I came across his corpse… by accident. There was no mistaking he was dead – a sword cut to the neck. His head was almost severed.’

‘How do you know it was a sword cut, if you did not kill him?’

‘Because… I realised who must have done it, and the sword… I…’

Alan resumed his pacing. ‘If a man finds a corpse he is by law required to raise the hue and cry, but you did not. Why would you not report it, if you are as innocent of the death as you claim, especially if you knew who had murdered him?’

Martin stared wildly round the room, looking for someone who might take pity on him, but the faces of all three men were equally impassive.

‘I… suspected that his killer was really after me. It was dark, Luke was wearing a hood. He must have returned to the wagon to search for the money his uncle accused me, quite falsely, of taking. The man who killed him obviously mistook him for me. We’re much the same height. When I saw Luke’s body I realised that could have been me lying there, and if the man who killed him learned he had made a mistake, then he’d continue looking for me. So I thought if everyone believed I was dead…’

‘Including the players you robbed, then you could escape with your life and their money, was that it?’ Stephen said.

‘I was merely trying to prevent another murder being committed,’ Martin said resentfully.

‘Continue,’ said the prior sternly. ‘What did you do after you found Luke’s body?

‘I didn’t want the corpse to be discovered by the watch before I had time to get out of Ely when the gates were opened the next morning. I tried to drag the corpse into the wagon, but the head was lolling about too much, so in the end I took my knife and sawed through the last bit of the neck, then I heaved the corpse in. I dressed Luke in my angel costume.

‘I realised I had to dispose of the head where no one would find it. My clothes were soaked in blood from moving the body. So I changed into some old clothes from the props box, wrapped the head in my bloodstained clothes, put it all in a sack along with Luke’s clothes and set off for the river. But when I was halfway down the hill I saw the flames of a torch moving towards me. I thought it might be the watch making their rounds, so I fled back to the wagon and hid beneath it until morning. I couldn’t go to the river then, all the players live down there and besides it would be swarming with boatmen and paggers. And I daren’t risk carrying the head out of the town gates in the sack, in case I was stopped and searched.