Paul Doherty - The Book of Fires

‘If Sir John Cranston were here,’ he began, ‘you would need every prayer I could utter because all of you would undoubtedly hang. No, Pike,’ he slapped the table with the palm of his hand, ‘you would hang and it would not be swift. Now, Fulchard of Richmond, or so you call yourself, what do the following mean: “ arete ”, “ doulos ”, “ agathos ”, “ kakos ”, “ kalos ”?’

The man gazed blankly back.

‘They are Greek words,’ Athelstan explained, ‘from Koine, the lingua franca used commonly around the Middle Sea. They mean “virtue”, “servant”, “good”, “bad” and “beautiful”. Fulchard of Richmond was allegedly injured whilst working at a tavern in Athens. If he worked there he must have known such common, simple words. To continue,’ Athelstan leaned over and touched the crutch, ‘Fulchard of Richmond was damaged on his right side. Crutches for the perennial cripple are fashioned uniquely. Fulchard’s crutch was made to be held under the right armpit. However, this one, which Fulchard allegedly used, is for the left. Of course, it would not matter for that very brief journey into the church before this farce took place. All the false cripple had to do was shuffle up the steps and along the nave and lie down near the chantry chapel. When the so-called miracle occurred, the crutch was only needed as a relic and nothing else. You also carried a small phial of perfume to exude something akin to the odour of sanctity, a fragrance which could indicate the intervention of heaven. It was all a sham. The real Fulchard of Richmond never entered that church – you did.’ Athelstan pointed down the table at the imposter. ‘Darkness was falling, the nave was gloomy. All you needed was to disguise the right side of your face with make-believe burns. Southwark houses a legion of counterfeit cranks and cunning men and, if that wasn’t the case, you may have even worn a mask. Who would remember a hooded, visored cripple, the crutch under the wrong arm, face down, stumbling up towards the shrine?’

‘The witnesses?’ Pike spluttered.

‘Oh, shut up!’ Athelstan roared. ‘Do not depict me as a complete fool. The witnesses, including you, Fitzosbert, were all hand-picked, fervent supporters of the Upright Men.’ Heads were bowed, booted feet shuffled. ‘Now,’ Athelstan continued, ‘the real Fulchard of Richmond was indeed very ill. Brother Philippe, an eminent physician, testified to that. It was a shrewd move to take Fulchard to St Bartholomew’s, where Philippe would adjudge him both as a cripple and a very sick man.’ Athelstan snapped his fingers at Pike. ‘You also brought the real Fulchard to see me: you wanted me to personally witness how ill he truly was.’

The ditcher kept his head down.

‘So,’ Athelstan declared, ‘on the night of the so-called miracle, the real Fulchard remained hidden, either here at the Piebald or in a garret at Merrylegs’ shop. He would keep his crutch as he still needed it. The so-called miracle occurred, but Fulchard, truly ill, quietly died, and his corpse was kept hidden. I was, thankfully for you, distracted by other business. I am sure you planned Fulchard’s secret burial in my cemetery but then Merrylegs senior also died around the same time. This provided you with an excellent opportunity for honourable interment. Watkin and Pike dug the grave deep and on the night before the funeral Mass for Merrylegs senior, you arranged Fulchard’s secret burial. Some of you miscreants, under the guise of gaping pilgrims, visited Godbless and his goat.’ Athelstan ignored the snort of laughter from the shadows. ‘There was great excitement in the church and the parish. Godbless was only too willing to be swept up in the festivities. Thanks to you, both he and Thaddeus became helplessly drunk. Godbless did not watch the cemetery – he did not see the secret burial of Fulchard whose funeral rites were conducted by you, Fitzosbert, a defrocked priest but still an ordained minister with the God-given power to conduct such a ceremony.’

Athelstan banged the table. ‘I can easily prove this if needed. Once dawn breaks I’ll have Cranston’s bailiffs open that grave and dig until they find what I am looking for.’ He noticed Fitzosbert’s hand drop beneath the tabletop. Ranulf the rat-catcher, sitting beside him, jabbed the defrocked priest with his elbow and Fitzosbert’s hand reappeared.

‘Good.’ Athelstan stared round. ‘I beg you in Christ’s name, as well as for the amity and respect you should owe me, do not think of doing anything stupid. I admit, the story you gave about Fulchard’s early history contains some grains of truth. Fulchard of Richmond did go abroad. He served as a mercenary in Black Beaumont’s free company, the Luciferi. He assumed another name, Rievaulx, a reference to the great Benedictine abbey in Yorkshire where he and you, my friend,’ Athelstan pointed at the imposter, ‘were educated as boys. Black Beaumont and his troop arrived in Constantinople. During unrest there, they stole Mark the Greek’s “The Book of Fires” and fled the city. Black Beaumont decided not to share the secrets of that manuscript and the wealth they would bring with anyone else. He deserted one set of comrades in the desert outside Izmir and fled with a group of henchmen to Patmos in the Middle Seas where he committed further treachery, carrying out a horrid atrocity. Black Beaumont drugged and burnt alive his remaining companions, except,’ Athelstan pointed down at the imposter, ‘the man known as Rievaulx. He was grievously injured but, God knows how, he managed to escape. He eventually returned to England, crippled and worn. He hid for a while, then Fulchard of Richmond emerged as a professional beggar who suffered a hideous accident abroad. Of course,’ Athelstan smiled thinly, ‘you know all this, don’t you?’

The imposter just stared coolly back. ‘I examined all the possibilities, including a miracle. However, given all that I have said, I have reached a much stronger possibility, in fact the strongest, that it was probable that you, sir, and the real Fulchard of Richmond are identical twins.’ Athelstan sat back in the chair. He moved his tankard slightly forward. ‘I cannot tell you about your life – why should I? But you and your twin eventually became reconciled. Fulchard did not tell you the full truth immediately. He peddled the tongue-smooth tale of a dire accident in some Greek tavern. Time passed and the truth eventually emerged. You were horrified. Black Beaumont was now a well-known, leading merchant in this kingdom. You wanted revenge. You sent Beaumont threatening messages, “As I and ours burnt, so shall ye and yours”. But then others intervened.’ Athelstan’s gesture took in the entire company. ‘The Upright Men are strong in both Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. Like the ancient Saxon hero, Hereward the Wake, the Upright Men are fortifying hiding places in the dark, damp fens of East Anglia. Gaunt vowed to burn them out and his flotilla of flat-bottomed barges would be crucial in achieving this. It’s no idle threat. The royal dockyards along Southwark were busy and the barges would soon be deployed. The Upright Men decided to destroy them. They held council and a very subtle plot was concocted. You and Fulchard would meet others here at St Erconwald’s for the novena vigil to our saint. The miracle would take place assisted by witnesses who are also Upright Men from different shires, ably assisted by your coven in this parish led by you, Ranulf. Once the so-called miracle had occurred, your brother would be hidden and later secretly whisked away. The miraculous occurrence would attract the crowds and wealth, a good source of revenue for some of our parishioners.’ Athelstan glared at Pike and Watkin. ‘As well as a source of great profit to the Upright Men in more ways than one. Visitors streamed into Southwark. Pilgrims thronged this ward and my church. Carts, sumpter ponies and barrows arrived with goods for sale. The crowd surged in and set up camp. Gaunt’s spies were overwhelmed – they found it impossible to survey such a multitude. God had worked a great wonder and, according to canon law, pilgrims and shrines were specially blessed and protected by Holy Mother Church. Moreover, this was not some sham – both the Bishop of London’s curia and one of this city’s eminent physicians have tendered the only logical conclusion on the evidence they have scrupulously examined, that a genuine miracle has occurred. The Upright Men now had an ideal way to smuggle in both men and arms in preparation for the great assault on Gaunt’s fleet of barges. You needed one more thing.’ Athelstan pointed at Parson Garman. ‘You too served with Black Beaumont. You were an ignifer, skilled in the casting of fire. You were also searching for “The Book of Fires”. You must have found it to create that inferno amongst the barges.’ Athelstan paused. He strove to remain passive even as the sweat started and his stomach lurched. These were desperate men. If he published abroad what he’d whispered in this close, dark room, all those grouped here would die a hideous death. Garman, cleric though he was, would feel the full fury of Gaunt’s rage. The justices of oyer and terminer, the Regent’s creatures, would be instructed to charge each and every one of them with high treason as they had committed arson in the royal dockyards. Punishment would be dire: drawn to the scaffold, half hanged, their bodies split open, heart and entrails plucked out, their limbs quartered, their heads severed.