Bloodstone

‘Edmond and I,’ Alesia replied, throwing a hateful glance at her stepmother. ‘Matters would be in safe hands.’ She grasped her husband’s arm. He simply smiled, eyes watchful for Cranston’s next question.

‘And the Passio Christi, what would have happened to that when Sir Robert left?’

‘We would have kept it secure.’ Alesia didn’t seem so certain now. ‘After all, Edmond is a very respected member. .’

Kinsman Adam suddenly sniggered. Athelstan glanced sideways. Sir John’s eyes were growing heavy; he was slumping in the great chair brought up in front of the roaring fire.

‘Sir John is weary.’ Athelstan paused at the furious knocking from down the gallery. ‘Your father’s chamber is being made secure and sealed. No one, and I repeat no one, on their allegiance to the Crown, is to enter that chamber. I repeat.’ He ignored all their protests, especially from Lady Helen. ‘No one is to enter.’ He pointed at Alesia, her red-rimmed eyes now dry in her long, pale face. ‘Mistress, your father was murdered — undoubtedly poisoned.’ He waited for the gasps and cries to subside.

‘But how?’ Edmond demanded. ‘We had supper with him last night. Sir Robert was in good spirits when he left the table.’

‘Then?’ Cranston abruptly drew himself up in the chair, smacking his lips, fingers impatiently beating against the arm rest. ‘What happened then?’ he repeated.

‘He adjourned to his chamber.’ Crispin spoke up.

‘Did you go with him?’

‘No, Sir John,’ Lady Helen replied. ‘My husband,’ she emphasized the word, ‘said he wanted to reflect. I don’t know why, we don’t know why, he simply asked not to be disturbed. He had his wine and those sweetmeats, to which he was partial. He bolted and locked the door and never came out.’

‘And no one visited him?’

‘Nobody,’ Crispin declared. ‘Once Sir Robert had decided to be alone that was it.’

‘I wished him goodnight,’ Lady Helen declared. ‘I called through the door.’

‘As did I,’ Alesia added.

‘And Sir Robert replied both times?’

‘Of course, Brother. If he hadn’t, we would have been alarmed.’

‘And the Passio Christi?’

‘I saw it,’ Alesia declared. ‘Crispin, Edmond and I were here after the monks had left. He showed it to us and put it back in the coffer. Crispin and he took it back to his chamber. I saw him lock the casket and put the keys back on the chain around his neck.’ Alesia wetted her lips, slender fingers rubbing her brow. ‘Sir John, Brother Athelstan, my father kept the bloodstone in that coffer in his chancery. I. .’

‘Mistress,’ Athelstan soothed, ‘after supper your father retired for the night about what hour?’

‘He went to the garderobe first,’ she replied. ‘It’s a little further along the gallery. He made himself comfortable. I think it must have been. .’

‘About compline,’ Crispin interjected, ‘the bells were ringing for compline. I remember glancing through the window and saw the beacons flaring in the church steeples. The streets below were quiet.’

‘And Sir Robert definitely stayed in his chamber?’

‘Yes, yes.’ They spoke together.

‘So,’ Athelstan cradled his leather satchel rocking gently backwards and forwards. ‘No one goes into that chamber. It is bolted and locked from the inside, and this morning?’

‘I went there,’ Crispin replied. ‘I knocked, then I hammered and shouted.’

‘I came down,’ Lady Helen leaned forward. ‘Kinsman Adam and I also tried.’ She pulled a face and one, Athelstan reflected, not so full of grieving. ‘By then the entire house was roused. The door was forced and Sir Robert,’ she tried to create a tremor in her voice and dabbed quickly at her eyes with the long hem of her cuff, ‘lay dead on the floor but, apart from that horrid sight, nothing else was disturbed.’

‘And nothing was?’ Athelstan queried sharply. ‘Nobody touched anything?’

‘Nobody,’ Alesia agreed. ‘I was so shocked I just stood in the doorway. Master Crispin scrutinized the chancery table and asked me if the casket holding the Passio Christi was secure. I did. It was undisturbed. Sir John, you discovered where my father kept his keys?’

For a while there was silence.

‘One more thing.’ Athelstan smiled round. ‘Let’s go back to something you have mentioned. Yesterday afternoon, Tuesday the eve of St Damasus, you were visited by two monks from St Fulcher’s — Prior Alexander and Sub-Prior Richer, yes?’

‘True,’ Crispin murmured, ‘we’ve explained that.’ Crispin’s eyes were blinking so furiously Athelstan recalled Physician Theobald’s earlier question and wondered if this old secretarius had a serious ailment of the eyes.

‘Who met them?’

‘My father,’ Alesia declared. ‘Crispin, Edmond and I were also present.’

‘They brought gifts?’

‘Yes, delicious sweetmeats. They asked to see the Passio Christi.’

‘So what was the purpose of their visit?’

‘I’ve explained already,’ Crispin answered. ‘They had business in Cheapside dealing with other merchants but,’ he fingered the cap of the inkhorn strapped to his belt, ‘Sir Robert also wanted to see them.’

‘What I mean is this,’ Athelstan paused, ‘I understand the Passio Christi had to be taken to St Fulcher’s to be shown to the members of the Wyvern Company. Your father would have taken it, so why see the monks yesterday when a further meeting was planned for today?’

‘I shall answer that,’ Lady Helen declared fiercely.

‘Shall you, mother dearest?’

‘Alesia!’ Helen’s face was a mask of fury. ‘My husband also confided in me, Sir John.’ Lady Helen apparently considered Athelstan beneath her notice; she hardly glanced at him. ‘My husband was a devout man. He did not ask to hold the Passio Christi, which he regarded as a precious relic. He did not like the Wyvern Company. More importantly, he resented taking the Passio Christi out to them.’

‘So he asked the monks to come here?’

‘Brother, you have it wrong!’ Lady Helen snapped. ‘My husband may have done wrong, been harsh, but he did penance for all that. At the same time he continued to do his duty here in London. You see,’ Lady Helen forced a smile, ‘the bloodstone still had to be taken to St Fulcher’s today for those old soldiers to see whatever happened yesterday.’

‘So?’

‘I was to take it!’ Alesia declared.

‘As was I.’ Crispin rubbed his hands on his gown. ‘Lady Helen is correct. My master hated taking the Passio Christi to St Fulcher’s. He did not go last year and he certainly didn’t intend to this year. The Passio Christi was to be taken by me, Mistress Alesia and Master Edmond. We planned,’ he controlled the quaver in his voice, ‘to leave at first light this morning, which is when I tried to rouse my master.’

‘So why did the good brothers visit here?’ Athelstan insisted. ‘The Passio Christi was a curiosity but why else?’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I know I have asked this before but I want to clarify matters.’

‘My eyesight is failing,’ Crispin explained. ‘I have been examined by skilled oculists. When my master left on pilgrimage I was to be given comfortable lodgings at St Fulcher’s, in the abbot’s own guest house. Prior Alexander, who used to be infirmarian and skilled in physics, would look after my eyes.’

‘And you wanted that?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Crispin confessed. ‘I would be distraught about my master’s leaving but one day he would return.’

‘And the Passio Christi?’ Athelstan asked.

‘You are persistent, Friar,’ Crispin murmured. He glanced around. ‘I must tell the truth.’ He paused. ‘Sir Robert was tired of holding the Passio Christi. He wanted to give it back.’

‘To whom?’ Cranston asked.

‘Why, the Abbey of St Fulcher,’ Alesia replied. ‘Father truly disliked those old soldiers. He’d always thought the bloodstone was taken as the legitimate plunder of war but, in the last few years, he began to wonder whether they had stolen it — an act of sacrilege. Of course he liked to go to the abbey itself. He was a generous benefactor and often visited the brothers.’