The Medieval Murderers - The False Virgin

‘Lord!’ muttered Cole, as Odo and Hilde came to greet them. ‘Their shrine has two walls built already. I have never seen anything raised so fast in my life.’

‘Everyone is eager to do Beornwyn’s bidding,’ Odo explained, his plump face beatific. ‘I feel young again now she has cured me.’

‘But Prior Kediour persists in his efforts to denigrate her,’ said Hilde unhappily. ‘We have explained that what happened here is a good thing, but he will not listen. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him. But do it soon. People are beginning to resent his hostility.’

Gwenllian glanced towards the spring, where Kediour and his canons were imploring people to go home or, better yet, attend evening service in the church. But Rupe urged them to stay, and it was to the mayor that they listened. Moreover, there were resentful murmurings against the Austins for presuming to give orders, and it would not be long before it turned physical. Gunbald and Ernebald were armed with cudgels and knives, and it was clear they were ready to join in any trouble.

‘Tell Kediour to take his canons home,’ Gwenllian whispered to Cole. ‘The spring will run dry soon, and when it does, people will lose interest in Beornwyn. He will not have to endure this nonsense for long.’

Cole began to weave his way through the throng, but people were packed tightly together, and he could not help but jostle a few. Inevitably, someone took exception.

‘You shoved me!’ screeched Rupe. He turned to the crowd. ‘Did you see that? He deliberately barged into me, and almost knocked me from my feet.’

‘My apologies,’ said Cole. ‘I was only trying to reach Kediour, so I can escort him and his canons back to their priory.’

‘Then do it,’ snapped Rupe. ‘They are a nuisance here, and we do not want them.’

‘I am not going anywhere,’ declared Kediour indignantly, and Gwenllian saw with a sinking heart that he, too, was on the verge of losing his temper. ‘How can I, when I see souls in peril? They will be bound for Hell if-’

‘It is you who is bound for Hell,’ shrieked Rupe, his voice high with indignation. He stabbed his finger at Cole. ‘And you. Beornwyn will not stand by while I am battered by a lout who has falsely accused me of corruption. How can I be dishonest? If I were, Beornwyn would not have put her spring on my land.’

‘Come,’ said Cole, taking Kediour’s arm. ‘There is no reasoning here-’

‘And now he accuses me of lying,’ squealed Rupe. ‘He has already murdered Miles for ogling his wife, and now he insults me. He-’

He did not finish, because Gunbald swung his cudgel at Cole, who ducked away, but in so doing he stumbled into Ernebald. With a roar of outrage, Ernebald attacked. It was all that was needed to start a fight. Most of the canons backed away from the mêlée, but a handful of novices remained, trying to extricate their prior from the flailing fists.

With horror, Gwenllian saw Gunbald prepare to swipe at Symon again. She shouted a warning, but too many others were yelling, and Rupe’s piercing screeches were especially loud. Her voice went unheard. She saw the bludgeon begin to descend towards her husband’s head, but Avenel was there to block it, after which his sword made short work of its wielder.

Then Cole was on his feet, his strong voice breaking through those of the others. She had never heard him so angry, and the effect on the rioters was immediate. Knives were sheathed, sticks and coshes furtively concealed, and fists lowered. But Gunbald did not move.

Rupe rounded on Cole. ‘This is your fault. You should not have interfered. Gunbald is dead, and I will have vengeance.’

‘Vengeance?’ asked Kediour quietly. ‘I cannot see your saint approving of that.’

‘Of course she will,’ snarled Rupe. ‘She was murdered by villains herself, and will not sit idly while good men are slaughtered by those who are supposed to protect us. She will rise up to exact payment for what has happened. You wait and see!’

Cole’s face was dark with fury and, unwilling to risk annoying a man who could put them in prison, the hotheads who had joined the brawl prudently melted away. Soon all that remained were the more sober folk, who wanted only to work quietly on the shrine. Kediour ordered his novices home in a voice that was uncharacteristically subdued, while Rupe kneeled next to Gunbald and wailed his grief. Gwenllian was sure it was insincere, that he was taking the opportunity to gain public sympathy in the hope that his past misdeeds would be forgotten, and he would be elected for another term as mayor.

‘I am sorry,’ said Kediour to Cole, stricken. ‘I was following my conscience. I would never have pressed my point if I thought it would end in a death.’

‘Go home, and keep your brethren inside,’ ordered Cole shortly. ‘Folk have taken this saint to their hearts, so please do not disparage her again.’

‘But it is a heathen business,’ objected Kediour, ashen-faced. ‘I cannot keep silent, especially when this place is so close to my priory.’

‘You must. Or Gunbald will not be the only casualty.’

Kediour shot an anguished glance at the unfinished shrine, which was already bright with votive candles. Then he gave a brief nod of acquiescence and walked after his brethren, his shoulders slumped in defeat. When Ernebald started to follow with a murderous gleam in his eye, Cole indicated that Iefan was to intercept him before more blood was spilled.

‘Well?’ asked Avenel, sheathing his sword. His expression was superior. ‘Will you not thank me for saving your life?’

Cole grasped his hand, catching him off guard with his open sincerity. ‘I will, and gladly. My wife is not ready to be a widow just yet.’

Gwenllian agreed, and was about to say so when her attention was caught by the fact that Philip had abandoned his duties at the chapel, and was whispering to Odo and Hilde. The chaplain flushed red when she approached.

‘I will return to my vigil now,’ he stammered, chagrined at being caught disobeying orders. ‘I only left for a moment, but then the trouble started…’

Gwenllian pulled him to one side so they could talk without being overheard. ‘Avenel claims you wrote no letter for him last night. Why did you lie?’

Philip’s expression was furtive. ‘I did not lie – not exactly. He did ask me to scribe for him, but Fitzmartin offered to do it instead. As I was there, I thought I may as well enjoy an ale before returning home. It was too hot to sleep anyway.’

‘Did you see Miles?’

The chaplain shook his head. ‘I would have told you earlier if I had.’

He hurried away before she could ask him anything else, leaving her staring after him thoughtfully.

‘He is a fine young man,’ said Odo, coming to stand next to her and smiling fondly. ‘Cole is fortunate to have him as a chaplain.’

‘Yes,’ said Gwenllian noncommittally.

Later that evening, as the sun began to dip and the shadows lengthen, Iefan arrived at the castle to say that the cattle rustlers had been spotted a mile south. Cole prepared to ride out at once, and Gwenllian was alarmed when Avenel and Fitzmartin offered to go with him.

‘Symon, no! They are suspects for garrotting Miles, and may dispatch you once they have you away from witnesses.’

Cole waved her concerns away. ‘I want them to come, to see for themselves how difficult it is to trap these thieves. Besides, it is a good opportunity to question them about Miles. Who knows? Perhaps they will confess to his murder as we sit around a campfire.’

Gwenllian gulped her horror, before he grinned to show he was jesting. It was not funny, and she was angry with him for making light of such matters. Others also thought he was reckless to include the sheriff and his henchman in the party.