fast, Ralph thought, the hidden archer must have more than one crossbow primed. He considered using Beardsmore’s corpse as a shield but it would still leave him exposed. He flinched as a bolt struck just near his knee. He pushed Beardsmore’s corpse aside and fled at an angle to the edge of the moat and dived in. He remembered to keep his mouth closed but opened his eyes. The water was light green, about six feet deep; thick weeds impeded his progress. Ralph pushed them aside. If he could move further down the moat and get out, he’d be safe. The weeds, however, clutched at him and panic gripped him. His chest was hurting, his eyes stinging. He could not swim for much longer; he had to get out. He moved some weeds aside and opened his mouth in a silent scream as a corpse reached up to greet him, face liverish, eyes staring, tendrils of hair moving in the water. Ralph pushed the body away and reached the bank. The rushes here afforded some protection. He lay against the mud, gasping for breath, and stared back along the bank. He had swum a good few yards but to him it seemed like miles. Beardsmore’s corpse lay sprawled on the heathland. From the parapet above, Ralph heard the shouts of sentries – they had spotted Beardsmore’s body. Wearily Ralph pulled himself out, covered in mud and slime. He clambered on to the bank and stared back into the moat; no sign of the corpse but he guessed who it was.
‘Poor Fulk,’ he muttered. ‘That’s the only reward you earned.’
Despite the pain in his side, Ralph ran along the wall, determined to reach the barbican. His eyes stung and the moat water had coated his mouth. He had hardly turned the corner when Adam came running out, Marisa behind him, her hair flying. Ralph collapsed into his friends’ arms.
‘Beardsmore’s dead!’ he gasped. ‘The Salt Tower. There’s a corpse in the moat – Fulk’s. Father Aylred is right: the Devil has set up camp at Ravenscroft!’
Chapter 4
Ralph stared down at the two corpses laid out in their makeshift coffins on trestles beneath the steps leading up to the keep. Theobald Vavasour had removed the crossbow quarrel from Beardsmore’s head and dressed the wound. Ralph felt a deep sadness. This young soldier, so full of life and energy, so determined to bring the killer of his lover to justice, now nothing more than a heap of dead flesh. In the coffin next to him lay the body of young Fulk, his face a whitish-blue. Despite all the efforts of the physician, his eyes would not remain closed; his face was bloated, his corpse soggy with water. Father Aylred had given both the last rites but it was obvious the priest was at the end of his tether. He forgot words and his hands shook so much that Ralph had to help him administer the holy oils. Sir John eventually sent him back to his chamber to rest then despatched Theobald to make sure he was all right.
Sir John scuffed the grass with his boot. ‘Adam, when you go down to Maldon, you’d best take Fulk’s corpse with you.’
‘How was he killed?’ Adam asked.
Ralph turned the sodden corpse over, displaying the bloodclotted hair. ‘A blow to the back of the head.’
‘And you, Ralph, are you all right?’
‘I’ve washed and changed yet again.’ Ralph tried to put a brave face on it. ‘I feel a little queasy from the moat water I’ve drunk but otherwise I’ll survive.’ He drew closer to them. ‘Sir John, the assassin killed Beardsmore but he was trying to kill me. It should be easy to find out where everyone was.’
‘I’ve done so already,’ the Constable replied. ‘Adam here helped me. Father Aylred was in the chapel, or claims he was. He had smashed an offertory cruet and was clearing up the mess.’
‘But I left the chapel just before meeting Beardsmore,’ said Ralph. ‘I never saw him there.’
‘That’s where he claims he was and I’ve seen the broken glass.’
‘And Theobald?’
‘In his chamber, poring over a book on alchemy.’
Ralph held his gaze.
‘I know. I know,’ Sir John murmured. ‘I was walking round the castle talking to this person and that. Lady Anne was in her chamber.’
‘And you, Adam?’
His friend stretched out his hands, the fingers covered in ink. ‘I was in the chancery office, Marisa was there with me. If you go up there now you’ll find the documents and manuscripts littering my table. I spilled some ink when the alarm was raised.’
‘That was one of the guards,’ Sir John informed them. ‘He was sunning himself and, by chance, looked over the wall. Beardsmore was down. He thought your assailant was outside the castle.’
‘Well,’ Adam sighed, ‘at least we know Fulk did come here.’
Ralph walked away from the coffins. ‘I suspect that the person Fulk met told him to leave.’ He smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. ‘No, no, he didn’t do that! Sir John, Adam, come with me!’
They walked round the keep, through the orchard and across the overgrown garden to the Salt Tower. A deserted, derelict place. Brambles and gorse sprouted through the gravelled path stretching up to the walls of the tower, almost blocking the door leading into it. They pushed through the briars which caught at their leggings and boots.
Ralph put a hand to the door and it swung open. ‘It should be locked!’ Sir John exclaimed. ‘The tower is unsafe.’
Ralph crouched down and peered at the lock. ‘It’s been forced. The lock is rusty and so is the catch. It wouldn’t take much force.’
Inside, it smelled of mildew and damp. Great cobwebs stretched like nets in the corners. The stairwell was dirty, the steps up crumbling and covered in dust. Ralph looked for any mark or sign.
‘Someone has been here, the dust has been disturbed.’
‘Is it safe?’ Adam asked.
‘We’ll find out.’
Ralph began to climb. He reached the first landing and pushed open the door to a chamber. At the far end was the broad shuttered window door he had glimpsed on the other side of the moat, about four feet high. The chamber itself was shabby and grim. The plaster had fallen off the wall and the room stank of the rotten rushes left lying there. He walked across, lifted the bar to the shutters and swung them open, welcoming the rush of clean air. Below him the moat glinted. Ralph stared across the heathland.
‘I think this is where the assassin brought Phoebe’s corpse wrapped in a canvas sheet. He lowered it on to the muddy bank below, crossed the moat, left the corpse in Devil’s Spinney and returned by the same route. It was quite easily done.’ He peered down. ‘He probably used a pole or spear to close the door behind him when he was on the bank. He’d leave the spear thrust into the mud until he returned and use it to open the shutters again. Look at the walls, Sir John, there are enough gaps and rents; it would be as easy as climbing a ladder.’
‘And the same for Fulk?’ Adam asked.
‘I suspect so. The assassin probably lured the young man here with the prospect of silver and gold.’ Ralph pulled the shutter closed. ‘A swift blow to the head and again he’d lower the corpse, throw it into the moat and climb back.’
‘Your troubles haven’t dimmed your wits,’ Adam smiled. ‘I agree, Sir John.’ He stared round the shabby room. ‘This place has seen terrible murders.’ He walked round, staring at the floor.
‘I don’t think you’ll find anything,’ said Ralph. ‘Our killer is too sly and cunning for that.’
‘But wouldn’t all this be noticed?’ Sir John snapped, shuffling his feet, plucking at his war belt in his agitation. His happy, humdrum existence had been shattered by bloody murder and he knew he would face harsh questioning from the King’s men when they arrived.
Ralph shook his head. ‘This is a deserted part of the castle. Until yesterday no guards walked the parapet except some sleepy-eyed sentry, and he’d make himself as comfortable as possible. No, the killer had it all his own way.’ Ralph gestured at the window door. ‘I’d advise you to have those shutters barred and padlocked. If the castle is ever attacked, that’s our weakest point.’ He walked towards the door.
‘Where to now?’ Adam asked.
Ralph didn’t answer, more intent on climbing the spiral staircase, studying each step as he went. The chamber at the top had no door. He walked in and went across to the two windows, one facing him, the other to
