Paul Doherty: Satan's Fire

Legrave stared back, glassy-eyed, jaw tense. He kept gulping and glanced quickly at de Craon who refused to meet his gaze.

Corbett sighed: that glance alone confirmed his suspicions.

‘For all his faults,’ he continued, ‘Baddlesmere was also edging towards the truth: he wondered who could have been behind Murston’s death. On the morning the king was attacked, Baddlesmere knew where he was and where the grand master had gone. He also reached the conclusion, as I did, that two of his companions, Symmes and Branquier, had been at the other end of York near Botham Bar well away from Trinity when the attack was carried out.’

‘That’s true,’ Branquier interrupted. ‘Baddlesmere kept questioning all of us: where we had gone, which streets we’d walked down.’

‘Even which taverns we’d drunk in,’ Symmes added drily.

‘But I was with the grand master,’ Legrave shouted. He glanced down the table but de Molay just stared at him.

‘The grand master was with the goldsmiths for at least two hours,’ Corbett replied. ‘You were supposed to stay outside.’

‘And I did.’

‘But if you look at Baddlesmere’s map of York, you can travel from Stonegate to the tavern in Trinity where Murston was in a matter of minutes.’

De Molay took his hands away from his mouth. ‘Sir Hugh speaks the truth,’ he declared. ‘We visited two goldsmiths on that street. On one occasion I came out and did not find you there.’

‘I was amongst the stalls,’ Legrave cried.

‘Oh, yes, so you were,’ Corbett declared. ‘Buying what?’

Legrave licked his lips.

‘Gloves,’ Branquier replied, ‘or gauntlets: that’s what you told us.’

‘Where are these?’ Corbett asked. ‘You bought more than one pair. Different stall-owners will attest to that. Why should any man want more than one or two pairs of gauntlets? You are a soldier-monk, Legrave, not some foppish courtier.’

‘Where are the gauntlets?’ de Molay demanded.

‘Oh, you’ll find them gone,’ Corbett interjected. ‘You see the powder Legrave used can be very dangerous. It leaves a stain: the grains become embedded in the cloth. Once used, they must be destroyed. Legrave did this. He burnt them in isolated spots in the manor. My companions found the remains.’

‘You are lying! You are lying!’ Legrave beat the table with his fists.

‘We can search your chamber,’ Corbett offered. ‘We could ask you to produce these gauntlets. Who knows what we might find there. Some traces of the substances you used? It would leave its mark on boots and clothes. Perhaps traces of blood on a knife or sword?’

‘Ralph.’ Branquier leaned forward, looking down the table. ‘You have the opportunity to answer these charges.’

Legrave refused to look up.

‘Baddlesmere, too, studied the Assassins’ warning,’ Corbett continued. ‘You see, the warning nailed to the doors of St Paul’s Cathedral read as follows:

‘KNOWEST THOU, THAT WE GO FORTH AND RETURN AS BEFORE AND BY NO MEANS CAN YOU HINDER US.’

Corbett closed his eyes.

‘KNOWEST THOU, THAT WHAT THOU POSSESSES SHALL ESCAPE THEE IN THE END AND RETURN TO US.

‘KNOWEST THOU, THAT WE HOLD YOU AND WILL KEEP THEE UNTIL THE ACCOUNT BE CLOSED.

‘That is the warning I read out at the priory when I was present with the king. However, the warning given to me on Ouse Bridge read a little differently:

‘KNOWEST THOU, THAT WHAT THOU POSSESSES SHALL ESCAPE THEE IN THE END AND RETURN TO US.

‘KNOWEST THOU, THAT WE GO FORTH AND RETURN AS BEFORE AND BY NO MEANS CAN YOU HINDER US.’

‘KNOWEST THOU, THAT WE HOLD YOU AND WILL KEEP THEE UNTIL THE ACCOUNT BE CLOSED.’

‘And the same is true of the warning which Master Claverley took from Murston’s gibbet.’ Corbett shrugged. ‘It was that which made me wonder. Were there two parties to this macabre game? Legrave in England and de Craon in France? Legrave posted the warning at St Paul’s when the Templars passed through London. De Craon passed me the second rendering of the message as I travelled through York. He also had one of his clerks display one on Murston’s gibbet just to deepen the mystery.’ Corbett smiled bleakly at the Frenchman. ‘You’ll have to tell your master in France that you made a terrible mistake: you copied out a message wrongly.’

The French envoy did not stir but sat, head back, staring up at the ceiling, running his hands through his sparse red beard.

‘But what’s this connection?’ Symmes asked. ‘How did you know Legrave and de Craon were fellow conspirators?’

Corbett turned to him. ‘Because on my arrival here — and you may not recall this — I told you that I had received a similar death threat but I did not tell you where. Later on, in discussion with all of you, Legrave casually remarked on how I was threatened as I crossed Ouse Bridge. How did he know that unless he and de Craon were fellow conspirators?’ Corbett pointed to Symmes. ‘You have written out your account, as the grand master ordered, of this whole sorry tale?’

The Templar nodded.

‘And you, Branquier?’

‘Of course.’

‘And Legrave?’

‘I was too busy,’ he retorted.

‘Whatever,’ Symmes barked. ‘I never knew about the warning being given on Ouse bridge.’ He pointed at Legrave. ‘Yet I do remember you saying it and Branquier kept a record of that meeting.’

‘But this manor has been secured,’ de Molay explained. ‘None of us could enter York, nor has Monsieur de Craon been here.’

Corbett asked. ‘If you wanted to correspond with someone just beyond the walls of this manor, would it be difficult? Baddlesmere found it very easy to slip away. I am sure Monsieur de Craon has envoys and clerks to run his errands — and so each kept the other informed about what was happening.’ Corbett paused and stared at the window. The storm had passed but the rain was still splattering against the windows. ‘In the end,’ Corbett murmured, ‘I must confess, I made a terrible mistake.’ He glanced round the table. ‘I thought this Order was rotten but, as in any community, there are bad and there are good. Grand Master, for my suspicions against you and the rest of your brothers, I apologise.’ Corbett rubbed his face. ‘But I am tired and my heart is elsewhere. “ Veritas in ripa ”,’ he murmured. ‘Truth stands on the bank.’ He stared at Legrave. ‘That’s what Baddlesmere scrawled on the wall of his cell before he hanged himself. He, too, had guessed the identity of the assassin. Perhaps he had seen something. Perhaps he had reflected on how close Legrave had been to Trinity when the king had been attacked. Perhaps he remembered what an excellent archer Legrave had been. A born warrior, he was not left-handed or right-handed but ambidextrous, who could shift a lance so easily from one hand to another. When I recalled the assassin in the library and asked my servant to play the part, I became confused until I remembered how the assassin kept moving the crossbow from hand to hand.’ Corbett looked at the grand master. ‘You know what the inscription meant?’

‘Yes, yes, I do,’ de Molay replied. “‘ Ripa ” in Latin means bank, but in French bank is “ la greve ”.’

Corbett pushed back his chair. ‘Baddlesmere knew that,’ he said. ‘But he could not betray an old friend, a brother of his Order. Moreover, he lacked any evidence so, in leaving that cryptic message, he purged his conscience.’ Corbett rose to his feet. ‘I have finished. Grand Master,’ he declared, ‘there is no secret coven or conspiracy amongst the Templars but instead, as I have described, there has been an attempt to bring the Order into discredit, to provoke Edward of England into seizing it and thus pave the way for Philip of France to act. Legrave was their tool but the conspiracy had its roots-’ Corbett glanced at de Craon ‘-with those dark souls who advise the French king.’