Paul Doherty - Candle Flame

‘It was not mine. I don’t know …’

‘It’s obvious that Ruat’s death and Thibault’s discovery remained unknown to you. You thought Ruat was safely despatched back across the Narrow Seas. Nor did you realize that, later that same day, a drinking dirge was held in Ruat’s memory here at The Candle-Flame.’

Marcel stared back, his shock obvious.

‘As for proof,’ Athelstan pressed on, ‘well, we could compare your handwriting with that of the report. I am sure there is a very strong resemblance.’

‘Nonsense!’

‘Oh, there is more than just handwriting. At the end of this document,’ Athelstan kept his tone conversational, ‘there is a sentence. Thibault deciphered and translated it as “I reside at The Candle-Flame, 16 February”,’ Athelstan shrugged, ‘the same evening the murders took place here. Thibault, however, was incorrect. The manuscript was water-stained. Your use of a cipher and the usual abbreviations of a trained chancery clerk make its study more difficult. Thibault thought you wrote resideo – I reside; in actual fact you use the future tense, residebo – I shall reside – a simple, understandable mistake. Thibault also overlooked another word, because it was faded and abbreviated, the Latin word post – after. Once we correct this sentence it reads, “I shall reside at The Candle-Flame after 16 February.” I investigated this with Mine Host. I have closely inspected the tavern ledger. You, Marcel, are the only person who, days earlier, hired a chamber for after 16 February. You hired a very comfortable one. You wanted to make sure that you would be well housed and fed.’ Athelstan paused. ‘I can show you the ledger?’ Marcel simply waved a hand. ‘There is more. You are supposed to be a Papal Inquisitor, that’s the proclaimed reason for your arrival in this kingdom. By your own admission you have a special interest in the Lollard sect. However, when I ask Lollards about you, including one imprisoned and condemned to death in the Bocardo, they make no mention of you. I am sure, and I can check this, that Master Thibault must have told you about Sparwell. What a splendid opportunity to find out more. You could have visited him.’ Athelstan paused. ‘Indeed,’ he smiled, ‘if you had, Blanchard would have met you. He would have been prepared for the imposter which led to two prisoners escaping and the keeper himself and some of his turnkeys being brutally slaughtered.’

‘I heard about that,’ Marcel snapped. ‘Such men should be rigorously punished.’

‘That’s not your concern,’ Athelstan declared. ‘My point is that you have shown no real interest in the Lollards. That’s not just my opinion but that of the Bishop of London’s curia. Of course, you believed no one would dare challenge a Papal Inquisitor going about his business. My question is very simple. What business? According to all the evidence it is English shipping rather than English heresy. Finally,’ Athelstan glanced down as if he was studying a document, when in fact he was quietly praying that Marcel would step into the trap, ‘what you also don’t know is that Master William Foulkes once served in Brabant as a crossbowman. On the afternoon Ruat came here to celebrate in the Dark Parlour, he struck up a friendship with Foulkes, whom he regarded as a Brabantine, an ally of Hainault. Ruat informed Foulkes how you had given him the silver-’

‘Ruat couldn’t have …’ Marcel stopped his outburst and closed his eyes, a gesture of defeat. Athelstan sat watching the flame on the nearest candle burn away another ring. He allowed the silence to deepen, broken by a knock at the door. Sir Simon Burley came in. The knight placed a sheaf of documents before Athelstan and left just as quietly.

‘You were going to say, Brother Marcel, how Ruat could not possibly know because you met him deep in the shadows of St Mary Overy. Yes? But who would know the truth about that except you?’ Athelstan stared down at the documents, sifting through them quickly. ‘We have ransacked your chamber and been through your chancery satchel. No, please spare us your protests. And what do we find? What looks like an innocent list of ships, including Sir Oliver Beresford’s great new war cog out of Yarmouth now berthed at Baynard Castle. So …’ Athelstan gestured at Marcel.

‘I admit,’ Marcel waved his hands, ‘that in the interest of a lasting peace between England and France, I decided to take careful note of England’s naval strength whilst here on papal business. My motive was to discourage the French from any hostile action.’ He paused at Cranston’s snorting laughter. ‘I appeal to a higher court. I plead benefit of clergy. I demand that as a subject of the king of France I be returned safely to that kingdom or to one of its officers here in England. Finally, I am a Dominican-’

‘You are a spy!’ Cranston broke in. ‘You will be detained as such until His Grace, Richard King of England, Ireland, Scotland and France,’ the coroner emphasized the last word, ‘decides what to do. Brother Athelstan?’

The friar summoned Tiptoft, who brought back Sir Simon and a military escort. Cranston gestured that the Papal Inquisitor should go with them. Once their footsteps in the gallery outside faded, Cranston and Athelstan left the table and quickly ate some of the food the friar had bought together with white wine in a sealed jug, a gift from The Piebald.

‘The mills of God, eh, little friar?’

‘Yes, Sir John. The mills of God are grinding slowly but surely. Nevertheless, deep in my heart, nothing we do in this chamber will fully restore God’s justice or his harmony. All we can do is deal with mortal sin and its malignant consequences.’ Athelstan finished his food then washed his hands and face at the lavarium . Cranston also prepared himself, leaving the chamber for the garderobe. Once he returned, Athelstan asked Thibault to fetch Brother Roger.

The Franciscan sauntered in as if attending a colloquium, a friendly debate in some refectory. He blithely took the oath and sat with an amused smile on his face as if rather surprised at the proceedings.

‘ Ic waes lytel?’ Athelstan asked.

‘When I was little,’ Brother Roger translated. ‘My friend, I did not know you were skilled in the Saxon tongue.’

‘I am not but you certainly are. You are Roger Godwinson, that’s your family name. You claim descent from the ancient royal Saxon family displaced by William the Norman.’

‘Roger Godwinson,’ the Franciscan agreed, becoming more wary.

‘A scholar of the Saxon tongue as we have just proved and you have admitted,’ Athelstan replied. ‘A man recognized in his own order, by the ancients who taught him at Greyfriars, as a scholar deeply immersed in the study of all things Saxon. A man who, by common recollection, studied the poem Beowulf and could quote it line by line. Indeed, time and again, ever since we met, you have unwittingly quoted verses from that poem.’

The Franciscan raised his eyebrows.

‘Three examples will suffice,’ Athelstan replied, ‘though I could quote others. First, when the Earthworms attacked us in Cheapside you made a unique reference to fighting as long as the World’s Candle shines, a phrase quoted directly from Beowulf. Secondly, after I escaped from the inferno in the Barbican, you talked about your fear of fire and how each man nursed his own special fear within him. You also joked about how I had escaped from the Dragon’s breath. Again, direct quotations from Beowulf. Finally, when we first met, you referred to “this fierce hostility, this murderous lust between men”, a phrase which can also be found in your favourite poem.’

‘So I quote lines from an ancient poem,’ the friar laughingly replied. ‘There is no crime in that.’