The Medieval Murderers - The False Virgin

When it was light, she and Cole walked into the bailey which was heavily waterlogged. She smiled her relief at this sign of plenty, but he was anxious as he squinted up at the sky.

‘I thought you would be pleased,’ said Gwenllian. ‘What is wrong?’

‘The storm has not broken the weather. It will be just as hot today as it was yesterday, and that violent rain will have flattened any corn that has survived the drought. Moreover, I suspect that most of the water has run off without soaking into the soil. If this was a miracle, then it was not a very useful one.’

‘Here is Kediour,’ said Gwenllian, spotting the tall prior picking his way across the morass. ‘I imagine he will have something to say on the subject of miracles.’

‘I spent most of last night in my library,’ Kediour reported without preamble, ‘and I found mention of Beornwyn eventually. I was right: she is not recognised by the Church, although her cult thrives in and around Whitby. However, there is no suggestion that her hand was ever in Ramsey – or Romsey, for that matter. Those young men are lying.’

‘I saw them and Rupe praying to her last night, in his wood,’ said Cole. ‘Do you think she made it rain?’

Kediour regarded him in dismay. ‘You witnessed an act of desecration and did nothing to stop it?’

‘They were praying,’ said Cole uncomfortably. ‘It is not for me to interrupt people’s private devotions.’

‘This from a man who has set eyes on the Holy Land?’ Kediour was shocked. ‘How could you ignore such an outrage? And so close to my priory, too! I must see about having the spot cleansed. You had better come with me, and point out exactly where this vile deed took place.’

‘Hardly a vile deed,’ mumbled Cole, disconcerted by the prior’s hot words.

Kediour fixed him with a baleful eye. ‘You should keep your role in this shameful affair quiet, because that rain did far more harm than good – homes flooded, crops flattened, cattle drowned. We do not want you blamed for the disaster. Can you imagine what Rupe and Avenel would say about it? They would use it to destroy you.’

‘But it was Rupe who prayed for-’ began Cole.

‘He will deny it,’ interrupted Kediour tartly. ‘Like the liar he is.’

Cole nodded acquiescence, knowing he was right.

Gwenllian went with them as they walked to the coppice, noting a number of broken roof tiles, several people sweeping water from inside their homes and a tree fallen across the road. The sun was already hot, and the few remaining puddles were evaporating fast.

‘That is odd,’ said Cole, stopping to inspect a rivulet of water. ‘This part of the road never usually floods.’

‘It has been flowing since the storm,’ explained Mayor Rupe, making them jump by speaking close behind them. ‘It is running into my garden, so I hope it dries up soon. My vegetables are currently standing in a bog.’

‘Perhaps you will show me the place where you and those two young vagabonds prayed last night,’ said Kediour coolly. ‘No, do not ask how I know. Suffice to say that I disapprove.’

Rupe began to argue, but a cold stare from the indignant prior made his words falter. Muttering resentfully under his breath, he led the way into the wood, where there was a small clearing not far from the road, reached by a narrow path. He stopped in astonishment,

‘We prayed there,’ he gulped, pointing with a shaking finger. ‘And look! A spring now gushes from that very place. Beornwyn has granted us a miracle!’

‘It is excess water from the storm,’ said Kediour. ‘There is no evidence to-’

‘What is that?’ asked Cole suddenly, pointing to a flash of yellow behind a tree. Gwenllian recognised the smart new tunic immediately, and ran forward with a cry.

It was Miles, sightless eyes gazing up at the sky above, and a vicious red line around his neck to show where he had been garrotted. A butterfly had settled on the wound.

Cole and Gwenllian tried to explore the wood for clues, but Rupe’s horrified wails had attracted a crowd. Kediour did his best to keep them back, but not even his commanding figure could control them for long, and they were soon trampling everywhere, exclaiming in excited voices about the miracle of the storm – the damage it had caused conveniently forgotten – and the spring that had appeared like manna from Heaven.

‘There is another butterfly, settling on the wound of this murdered man,’ cried Rupe. ‘It is Beornwyn’s spirit, weeping for the wrong that has been done next to her sacred waters.’

‘Actually, it is attracted by the moisture,’ explained Cole. ‘They-’

‘There is nothing more to be seen here,’ interrupted Gwenllian quickly, aware of the revolted glances that were being exchanged that the constable should own such grisly knowledge. ‘Now please go home, all of you.’

‘No, stay,’ countered Rupe. ‘And feast your eyes on this holy spring – a gift from the saint herself. She truly has bestowed her favour on us – on me ! I prayed to her, and she has sited her stream on my land, at the exact spot where I kneeled to petition her.’

‘Actually, you were a little farther to the left,’ said Cole.

Rupe’s eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know? Or were you here, too, spying on us?’

‘Of course not,’ said Gwenllian hastily, not wanting Rupe to know that Symon had been alone in the woods where his deputy had been murdered. ‘He was too tired after his three-week patrol for ferreting about in dark coppices.’

‘So you say,’ sneered Rupe. ‘But he would have had to come past here to reach the castle after seeing Kediour home, and Miles is dead. And we all know that Miles lusted after you.’

‘Symon knows he need not fear losing my affections to Miles or any other man,’ said Gwenllian firmly. She was aware of Avenel and Fitzmartin on the fringes of the crowd, listening intently and doubtless eager to report Rupe’s accusations to the King.

‘A wife can provide no alibi,’ declared Rupe scornfully. ‘You would lie to save Cole, if for no other reason than that the next constable is likely to have a wife already.’

‘Enough,’ snapped Kediour, while Gwenllian gripped Cole’s arm hard to prevent him from reacting to the insult. ‘It is unseemly to quarrel over a corpse. Philip? Fetch a bier and arrange for the deputy to be carried to the castle chapel.’

‘Your priory is closer,’ said Cole.

Kediour’s voice became gentle. ‘Yes, but that is not where he belongs. And it is Philip’s prerogative to stand vigil over a castle official until he is buried.’

The little chaplain looked disappointed to be dispatched on an errand when there was so much to see, and Gwenllian noted that he did not go without exchanging a quick glance with Avenel. She was thoughtful, remembering the people Cole had met on his way home the previous night: Philip, Avenel and Fitzmartin were among them. Had one of them strangled Miles? Or were the culprits Rupe and the two monks? Cole had seen Odo and Hilde, too, of course, but they were her friends and she could not believe they would throttle anyone.

‘Why did you choose to pray in a wood, Rupe?’ asked Cole, while they waited for Philip to return. ‘Why not in the church?’

‘I thought that if we were asking for rain, then we should do it outside,’ explained the mayor. ‘And my grove is a pleasant place to be of an evening.’

‘It is not pleasant now,’ remarked Kediour. ‘It is a morass. My canons will fetch some stones, and we shall block the spring before it damages the road – or drowns your vegetables.’

‘I do not mind, not now I know it is sacred water,’ said Rupe. His eyes gleamed. ‘I shall gather it in flasks and sell it to pilgrims.’