Chanson had queried. ‘And, when the door was forced, the assassin used the ensuing chaos to seal this?’
Ranulf, who in a former life had been a night-walker in London, declared it virtually impossible to climb the sheer outside wall. And, of course, there was one further problem . . .
‘Abbot Stephen was in good health?’ Corbett asked.
‘Oh yes, a vigorous man in good health.’
Corbett smiled. ‘So, you know what I am going to say? Your Abbot was also a former knight-banneret, a warrior, a soldier. He was used to the cut and thrust of battle. Such a man would not give up his life lightly, would he?’
He paused at the sound of a sob. Perditus sat, head down, hands in his lap, shoulders shaking.
‘Abbot Stephen would have resisted. There would have been shouts, noise, tumult. Brother Perditus, I am sorry for your grief but are you a light sleeper?’
‘I would have heard such a commotion!’
Corbett shifted in his chair; he glanced at Ranulf who was making notes, using the cipher Corbett had taught him.
‘Let’s be honest,’ he said. ‘I do not want to put you on oath but did Abbot Stephen have any enemies in the community?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Brother Richard answered swiftly. ‘He was our Father Abbot. He was severe but he could also be gentle and kind, a true scholar, a holy man.’ He glared at his companions.
‘Brother Richard speaks the truth,’ Prior Cuthbert declared.
‘But come, in a community such as this there are always jealousies, rivalries . . .?’
‘Father Abbot was above such rivalries, Sir Hugh.’
‘Are you accusing one of us?’ The sub-prior demanded. ‘Sir Hugh, there are other monks in this community?’
‘Brother Hamo, I thought you would never ask that.
You are here for three reasons. First, you are all members of the Concilium. You had direct dealings with the Abbot, whilst the other brothers did not. Secondly, I understand you all have your own bed-chambers? So, if you went missing during the night, it would not be noticed, as it would in the cells and dormitories of the other monks. Finally,’ Corbett continued remorselessly, ‘the Abbot’s quarters are approached by a staircase. The door to the outside courtyard is always locked at night. Brother Perditus, I believe that was your responsibility?’
The lay brother nodded.
‘The only people who have keys to that door are the Abbot’s manservant and members of the Concilium.’
‘So, you are accusing one of us?’ the Prior demanded.
‘I am not accusing anyone. I am simply answering your sub-prior’s question. So, let’s return to your relationship with the Father Abbot. There was no disagreement?’
Brother Richard the almoner now became agitated. He was glaring along the table at Prior Cuthbert.
‘There was something, wasn’t there, Brother Richard? Please, tell me!’
‘There is no need to,’ the Prior declared. ‘We had one disagreement with Father Abbot. We own a field called Bloody Meadow, which has a tumulus or burial mound in the centre. According to local lore, many centuries ago, one of the first Christian Kings, Sigbert, was martyred and buried there. We, the members of the Concilium, believed the meadow would have been an ideal site for an enlarged guesthouse. Abbot Stephen disagreed. He said the meadow and the burial mound were sacred and should not be disturbed.’
Corbett studied the Prior closely. You speak so quickly, he thought, as if it was a minor matter. Yet I suspect it was very important to you but would it lead to murder? He glanced sideways, to where Archdeacon Adrian Wallasby sat bored, picking at his teeth.
‘And you?’ Corbett pointed to him. ‘You had been in the abbey days before the murder took place? You met with Abbot Stephen? He gave you a key to his lodgings?’
Archdeacon Adrian was no longer bored. He scratched his cheek nervously.
‘Abbot Stephen was well known as an exorcist,’ Wallasby replied. ‘He carried out exorcisms both here and in
Ranulf, who in a former life had been a night-walker in London, declared it virtually impossible to climb the sheer outside wall. And, of course, there was one further problem . . .
‘Abbot Stephen was in good health?’ Corbett asked.
‘Oh yes, a vigorous man in good health.’
Corbett smiled. ‘So, you know what I am going to say? Your Abbot was also a former knight-banneret, a warrior, a soldier. He was used to the cut and thrust of battle. Such a man would not give up his life lightly, would he?’
He paused at the sound of a sob. Perditus sat, head down, hands in his lap, shoulders shaking.
‘Abbot Stephen would have resisted. There would have been shouts, noise, tumult. Brother Perditus, I am sorry for your grief but are you a light sleeper?’
‘I would have heard such a commotion!’
Corbett shifted in his chair; he glanced at Ranulf who was making notes, using the cipher Corbett had taught him.
‘Let’s be honest,’ he said. ‘I do not want to put you on oath but did Abbot Stephen have any enemies in the community?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Brother Richard answered swiftly. ‘He was our Father Abbot. He was severe but he could also be gentle and kind, a true scholar, a holy man.’ He glared at his companions.
‘Brother Richard speaks the truth,’ Prior Cuthbert declared.
‘But come, in a community such as this there are always jealousies, rivalries . . .?’
‘Father Abbot was above such rivalries, Sir Hugh.’
‘Are you accusing one of us?’ The sub-prior demanded. ‘Sir Hugh, there are other monks in this community?’
‘Brother Hamo, I thought you would never ask that.
You are here for three reasons. First, you are all members of the Concilium. You had direct dealings with the Abbot, whilst the other brothers did not. Secondly, I understand you all have your own bed-chambers? So, if you went missing during the night, it would not be noticed, as it would in the cells and dormitories of the other monks. Finally,’ Corbett continued remorselessly, ‘the Abbot’s quarters are approached by a staircase. The door to the outside courtyard is always locked at night. Brother Perditus, I believe that was your responsibility?’
The lay brother nodded.
‘The only people who have keys to that door are the Abbot’s manservant and members of the Concilium.’
‘So, you are accusing one of us?’ the Prior demanded.
‘I am not accusing anyone. I am simply answering your sub-prior’s question. So, let’s return to your relationship with the Father Abbot. There was no disagreement?’
Brother Richard the almoner now became agitated. He was glaring along the table at Prior Cuthbert.
‘There was something, wasn’t there, Brother Richard? Please, tell me!’
‘There is no need to,’ the Prior declared. ‘We had one disagreement with Father Abbot. We own a field called Bloody Meadow, which has a tumulus or burial mound in the centre. According to local lore, many centuries ago, one of the first Christian Kings, Sigbert, was martyred and buried there. We, the members of the Concilium, believed the meadow would have been an ideal site for an enlarged guesthouse. Abbot Stephen disagreed. He said the meadow and the burial mound were sacred and should not be disturbed.’
Corbett studied the Prior closely. You speak so quickly, he thought, as if it was a minor matter. Yet I suspect it was very important to you but would it lead to murder? He glanced sideways, to where Archdeacon Adrian Wallasby sat bored, picking at his teeth.
‘And you?’ Corbett pointed to him. ‘You had been in the abbey days before the murder took place? You met with Abbot Stephen? He gave you a key to his lodgings?’
Archdeacon Adrian was no longer bored. He scratched his cheek nervously.
‘Abbot Stephen was well known as an exorcist,’ Wallasby replied. ‘He carried out exorcisms both here and in
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