Simon Beaufort - Murder in the Holy City

“Hugh …” he began, taking a step forward. Immediately, both archers swung their bows round to face him, and Geoffrey saw their wrists begin to draw back. He stopped.

“Throw down your weapons,” ordered Hugh of Geoffrey and Roger. Geoffrey hesitated, but saw the resolute expression on Hugh’s face. He dropped his sword and then heard Roger’s clatter to the ground behind him. “Now your daggers. Both of them,” he added for Roger’s benefit. “And move back against that wall.”

Geoffrey and Roger backed away until they stood side by side against the far wall. Akira slouched with them, moaning softly, while Hugh’s archers were ranged opposite, their eyes never leaving Geoffrey and Roger. Hugh made a motion with his hand, and others clustered into the small room, one of which was the gentle Father Almaric, who smiled beneficently at Geoffrey. Another was Adam, who made a threatening gesture toward the cowering Akira.

“Please,” Akira whispered. “I got nothing to do with all this. I’m only a poor butcher. Let me go, and you won’t be sorry. I got some nice lean meat round the back, and I’ll keep you supplied for as long as you stay in our lovely city.”

Hugh looked around him and shuddered. “It is a tempting offer,” he said. “But I am afraid I must decline.”

“Did you kill them, Hugh?” asked Geoffrey softly. “Did you kill John, Guido, and the monks?”

“Not Loukas, the last one,” said Hugh. “That was none of my doing. But I was forced to kill Guido and John. I offered them a chance to join our select group to replace this vacillating Advocate who festers on the throne of Jerusalem with a strong king, but they declined. Since I had already given them details of our plan, they had to die.”

“Why them?” asked Geoffrey, a sick feeling spreading through him as he imagined the young, impressionable John at the mercy of such ruthless cunning as Hugh’s.

“You already know,” said Hugh. “I need strong and intelligent soldiers for my plan to work. Guido was grieving for his wife and was considering taking the cowl; I needed him because he was an excellent strategist. I killed him as he strolled in the gardens at the Dome of the Rock, which had become a habit of his. And John was intelligent and a man of integrity; he would have been an asset to our cause. I had Maria lure him to her mistress’s house, where I, not a welcoming lover, awaited him. But others listened and have joined with us-all good, strong men who want to see Jerusalem remain in Christian hands, not taken back by the Saracens just because the present Advocate cannot keep it.”

“And Jocelyn and Pius?”

“I had to kill Jocelyn because he helped Guido write a missive to the Advocate outlining our plans. Fortunately, Guido refrained from mentioning me by name and was stupid enough to sign with his monkish name. Had he signed himself Guido and not Salvatori, I might have been in serious trouble. Jocelyn was also a double agent for the Patriarch and was simply too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

“And Pius?”

Hugh shrugged. “Jocelyn was very careful during the two days after Guido’s death-he knew he was in danger. I followed him one night and killed him just as he reached the Dome of the Rock and thought he was safe. On the way, I saw him stop and talk to a monk. I could not take the risk that Jocelyn had told this monk our secret, so I killed him too. Maria opened the door of this place so I could leave the body here. You see, I had to create a smoke screen to prevent anyone seeing a pattern in the deaths. I used those cheap daggers from the market so that people might believe the killings were ritualistic, and I even managed to retrieve them on occasion to thicken the mystery. But the one I used on John was stolen from his corpse. You cannot trust anyone in this city.”

Geoffrey regarded him sombrely. “Poor Pius had trouble sleeping. I am sure Jocelyn told him nothing. Pius was probably only making idle chatter with a fellow monk out in the night.”

“I cannot help that,” said Hugh abruptly. “One cannot be too careful in these political games. But I am innocent of that Greek monk’s death. The word is that the Patriarch had him killed, although I cannot think why.”

“And Maria helped you hide the bodies?” asked Geoffrey.

“Maria, Adam, and Father Almaric, among others. It was Almaric who was able to warn me about Guido’s letter to the Advocate outlining our plans.”

Father Almaric stepped forward and, beaming benignly, sketched a benediction at Geoffrey and Roger. Geoffrey wondered if he was in complete control of his wits. It was Almaric who had recommended Maria to the Patriarch as a maid to Melisende: a spy to watch over a spy.

“I know,” said Geoffrey. Hugh looked startled, and Geoffrey explained. “Jocelyn used Father Almaric as confessor, presumably because Almaric professed to be one of the Patriarch’s most loyal subjects, and Jocelyn assumed anything passed to Almaric would not only be under the seal of confession, but safe because Almaric was the Patriarch’s man. But when Celeste reminded Father Almaric that the monk with the distinctive eyes came to him for confession, Almaric pretended to have forgotten him.”

“But it is true, my son,” said Almaric, earnestly. “I forgot so much because of the incessant agony in my feet. But since I tried the remedy you recommended, I have been much better. I am able to walk, and the pain is so much improved that I am able to sleep much better at night, and so wake refreshed and sharp-witted in the mornings.”

Wonderful, thought Geoffrey. He had guilelessly acted as physician to a man who was attempting to murder the Advocate.

“The letter the Advocate wrote to Guido?” asked Geoffrey. “How did you come to have it, Father?”

Hugh sighed and closed his eyes. “Does it really matter?” he said, wearily. “Sir Armand of Laon-he is one of us-appropriated it when it was delivered to the citadel. He gave it to Almaric for safekeeping when you began your enquiries. I sent Maria to fetch it when I decided it was time to put our plan into action. Father Almaric has been a good ally, but he is forgetful, and I wanted the letter in my possession lest my plan, for some reason, failed.”

“And Dunstan? How did he find out all this?”

Hugh gave a hearty sigh. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than to satisfy your curiosity? Dunstan found notes made by Jocelyn in Jocelyn’s desk in the scriptorium. Dunstan was foolish enough to believe he could blackmail us. I simply arranged that Maria send him some of her cakes, but not before I had a quiet word about what happened to men who tried to blackmail me. I suppose I literally frightened him to death.”

That would explain Dunstan’s increasing agitation in the days before his death. Foolish, greedy monk. If he had gone directly to the Patriarch with his findings, he would still be alive, and so, probably, would Marius. And Geoffrey would never have been dragged into the investigation, and Hugh would be safely behind bars, along with his seemingly formidable force of supporters.

“And of course, you killed Marius and pretended to have been attacked in the process.”

Hugh shrugged. “What else could I do? I had recruited him to our cause when he began his so-called investigation with Dunstan. But he was foolish enough to come running to me when he thought Dunstan had been murdered. He was simply too much of a liability. I talked with him for a while, to make certain he had made no written records of what he knew, and then I stabbed him. I smeared the blood from his wound onto my head to convince you I had been hit.”

“Why did you do all this, Hugh?” Geoffrey asked softly. “Was it worth the price?”

“Oh yes,” said Hugh, surprised by the question. “And it would have been worthwhile for you, too, given time. You are my friends. I would have looked to your interests.”