The Medieval Murderers - House of Shadows

‘How is that possible?’ wailed Robert Northam.

John shrugged. ‘Quite easily. I have seen it done in the mêlée of combat. One hand cupped under the chin, the other on the nape of the neck – then a quick jerk backwards.’

The prior shuddered. ‘We must be looking for a brute with great strength, surely?’

The coroner shook his head, his jet-black hair bouncing over the collar of his grey tunic. ‘Not at all. Any determined man could do it – or woman, for that matter!’

The prior crossed himself in horror, reminding John of his clerk’s habit. ‘God preserve us from that! There were several ladies about the poor girl, but none of them could possibly be involved.’

‘Who exactly were those ladies?’ demanded the coroner.

‘There was Margaret de Courtenay, who was to be the maid of honour at the wedding. She was a friend of Lady Christina, from the time they were in Sempringham together, so I understand.’

John could feel that Robert Northam was trying to distance himself as much as possible from any close acquaintance with the dramatis personae in this tragic drama.

‘Then there was Lady Avisa, who was virtually the mother of Christina, being the wife of her guardian, Roger Beaumont, together with their daughter, Eleanor. And, of course, there were various handmaidens and tirewomen who attended the three ladies,’ he added dismissively.

‘Were they all staying here at the priory?’

‘They were indeed, as we have ample accommodation since we became so popular with the king and his ministers as a place to safely house their guests in London.’ The prior sounded a little cynical at this demotion of his monastic retreat to an aristocratic lodging-house.

‘Where would they stay exactly?’ asked de Wolfe.

‘Sir Roger Beaumont and his wife had a parlour and bedroom next to the inner gate, while Christina de Glanville and her bridesmaid Margaret de Courtenay were lodged in a pair of guest-rooms near where you are placed, Crowner. It is at the top of the stairs, but opposite the dormitory, through a locked door.’

‘What about their personal servants?’

‘They slept on pallets either in a corner of the same room or in an antechamber, in the case of the Beaumonts.’

John turned this over in his mind for a moment. ‘The bridegroom-to-be, this Jordan de Neville – was he here at any stage?’

‘Certainly. He visited almost every day for the week that the party was here. He spent several nights in the guest dormitory, where you yourself are lodged, but did not stay for the few nights before the wedding, as I gather it is unseemly for a groom to be with his bride immediately before the ceremony.’

He hesitated, as if doubtful whether to continue, then plunged on. ‘However, he was here the night that Christina was last seen. Then he rode back with his squire to Southwark late at night, where he was lodged at an inn.’

John rose to his feet and thanked the prior for his time and patience. ‘I will have to see everyone concerned before I can hold an inquest. In the circumstances of the long delay that was inevitable for me to get here from Devon, I will not demand the usual requirement that the corpse be viewed during the inquest. In fact, I do not know if the Coroner of the Verge is obliged to adhere to all the usual rules of procedure for common cases.’

Robert Northam stood to see de Wolfe to the door, and as John reached it he turned before Northam could lift the latch. ‘One matter occurs to me, prior. Is there anything I should know about your chaplain?’

The priest stared at him, not understanding his meaning. ‘Brother Ignatius? In what regard?’

‘Does he have any strong opinions about certain matters? Any obsessions, for instance?’ John felt awkward about asking such questions, but he felt it had to be done.

Robert Northam cleared his throat self-consciously. ‘He tends to take a very literal view of the Scriptures. One might say that he holds a rather extreme view of certain religious precepts.’ The prior’s tone indicated that he was not going to be more forthcoming than this about his secretary.

‘Do you know what his relations with the dead girl might have been?’

The prior looked somewhat offended. ‘Relations? There were no relations. She was a guest in the priory, as there have been very many others.’

De Wolfe recognized that Northam was being deliberately evasive, but he felt that this was not the time to pursue the issue. After speaking to other witnesses he might return to it, but for now he was content to take his leave. Outside, Ignatius was ostentatiously standing in the entrance to the small chapel, well away from the door. As he escorted the coroner back to the warming room, John took the opportunity to probe his attitude to the dead girl.

‘What did you think of Christina de Glanville?’ he asked.

‘I had very little to do with her, sir. The guests are housed in the outer part of the priory and my duties are with the prior and in the church.’

‘But you must have met the young lady a number of times! She presumably attended services at least once a day?’

The chaplain shook his head. ‘No females attend the Holy Offices in our church. It would be against all the tenets of our order.’

‘But surely she must have gone to Mass with her friends and guardians?

Brother Ignatius grudgingly admitted that the prior had offered his private chapel for that purpose. ‘I administered the Sacrament to her several times, as part of my duties to the group that she was with. But I knew nothing about her personally and have no opinion about her character.’

John’s long experience of interrogating witnesses told him that the secretary was holding something back, but the stubborn set of his mouth told him that, like the prior, he would get no further today.

That evening they ate well in the guest refectory, being joined by half a score of pilgrims from the Welsh marches. A large proportion of Bermondsey’s casual lodgers were pilgrims, either going to or returning from the new shrine to St Thomas at Canterbury, though some were going further afield, a few even to Rome or Santiago de Compostella. They were a cheerful lot and in spite of the cold turned an otherwise sombre meal into a pleasant evening, as they had some wineskins of their own to supplement the ale and cider supplied by the priory.

When the drinks had been consumed, everyone clambered up to the dormitory and wrapped themselves in every garment they possessed, as well as in the one blanket provided to each of them by Brother Ferdinand, then curled up on their palliasses and tried to ignore the east wind that moaned through the shutters, carrying in an occasional flake of snow.

The next day de Wolfe found the confinement of the priory oppressive. Though Thomas insisted on attending most of the frequent offices in the church, John borrowed a pair of horses from the stables and took Gwyn for a ride into the surrounding countryside, such as it was, being so close to London. They rode towards the city and reached Southwark to look again at London Bridge, which they had crossed less than a couple of months ago, when they came from Exeter to visit Hubert Walter. This time they stayed on the south bank and visited a nearby tavern for some food and ale, before turning back into the flat heathland, dotted with a few manors with their strip-fields, barren at this time of year.

Today there was a dank mist rather than a dense fog, and when they reached Bermondsey the priory loomed eerily though the haze, like a grey fortress perched on the edge of the bog that stretched down to the river. As the porter let them in, even the unimaginative de Wolfe gave a shiver that was not altogether due to the biting cold. At noon they ate again in the guests’ refectory, now empty of the boisterous pilgrims who had gone on their way to Canterbury. In the warming room afterwards, Thomas timidly asked his master how they were going to proceed with the investigation.