‘Did he not seek to talk to the youth himself?’ It was more common, Baldwin knew, for those who suspected a comrade of an infraction of the rules to speak to that person and give them a chance to put matters right before setting the facts before someone of the abbot’s stature.
‘I think he would have tried, but he didn’t feel that the novice Gerard took note.’
‘Who is this paragon of virtue?’
The abbot licked his lips. ‘I shouldn’t tell you without letting him know first. It’s a matter of courtesy, you understand…’
‘Yes, naturally,’ Baldwin said, and he did not mind. Other issues were more crucial at present, such as what had happened to the acolyte. Yet there was another point, surely. He looked at the abbot. ‘My Lord Abbot, this is hardly a matter for me. A youth has been accused of theft by someone, and has decided to run away. How can I help?’ Apostasy was considered a vile crime, and those who committed it were liable to be sought out and dragged back, but that was no reason for a secular official to become involved.
‘It’s that story of Milbrosa.’
‘Ah, I see. You want me to find the lad because otherwise people will say he has been carried away by the Prince of Darkness.’
‘Yes. I know it is ridiculous, but it is precisely that kind of rumour which could ruin us. I have dedicated my life to this abbey, Sir Baldwin – all my adult life. I have converted a bankrupt institution into a tool for God. We give regular pensions to the poor of Tavistock and the lepers in the Maudlin, we provide comfort and safety for travellers, we work day and night for the protection of the souls of those living and the dead, and all this work depends upon money. It is no use telling me that money is irrelevant and despised by God, it is an asset like any other, and we depend upon our patrons for it. If a rumour should escape from within these walls that there was a second monk whose behaviour was so corrupt that his soul was taken away by the devil, how would that chime with the men who support us? Who would want to give us their money, if they felt that our behaviour was so foul that the devil looked upon us as his natural prey?’
Baldwin screwed up his face as he considered the task ahead. ‘You want me to concentrate on finding this lad, then?’
‘Yes, Sir Baldwin. I want you to find him, but I also want you to make sure that the murderer of the tin-miner is found as well, for while no man confesses to that crime, people’s tongues will wag. And if people gossip, which would they prefer to talk about, a chance encounter with an outlaw, or an evil monk who has a heart as black as his Benedictine habit, and who is the prey of the Evil One?’
Baldwin smiled, then reached down to Gerard’s bed and pulled the covering aside. ‘There’s nothing to see here,’ he said. He sat on the bed and looked about him, but while he sat there, he became aware that something was wrong. There was nowhere to hide anything. All the brothers swore themselves to poverty, so there was nothing, not even a small casket, for private belongings.
‘If he had stolen anything, where could he have hidden it?’ he asked.
The abbot gazed about him distractedly. ‘I have no idea! There are so many places all over the abbey where someone could store things. It would be impossible to find them all.’ Baldwin nodded. It was as he expected. Standing, he picked up the rough base of the bed and tipped it, so that the palliasse was turned over, before setting the base back on the ground.
‘Dramatic, I know. But if there are so many places all over the abbey to hide things, why ever should he have left these here?’ Baldwin asked as two plates bounced across the floor.
The abbot gasped. ‘What sort of fool was he, that he would conceal them in his bed?’ he demanded, bending to pick up one of the plates.
‘I should think the most innocent fool,’ Baldwin said harshly. ‘Someone was determined to make him take the blame for something. Pah! Plates under his palliasse?’
‘You think that the lad could be innocent? In truth?’ Baldwin smiled at the hopeful tone. ‘Yes, indeed, my Lord Abbot. But do not blind yourself to the fact that only one of your congregation could have got in here, I assume.’
‘I fear so. Only the choir itself could enter here – and one or two of the lay brothers, of course.’
‘Then it is among them that we must seek the thief.’
‘Sir Baldwin…’
‘What is it?’ Baldwin asked, seeing his sudden stillness. Abbot Robert went over and touched the bed in the opposite partition. When he stood up, his face was anxious. ‘l am no expert in death like you, but this stain… could it be dried blood?’
The knight’s face was serious. ‘I think we may have to prepare to find another body, Abbot.’
He had no idea that his words would prove to be correct so soon – nor that they would also prove to be so wrong.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning Baldwin saw that there was another guard at the corpse when they all reached the scene of the murder.
A crowd of miners had gathered, a grim band of men with the uniform of peat-stained, ragged clothing and eyes bright from malnutrition and overwork. Some were staring at Wally’s body, but for the most part they appeared content to stand as far from it as was possible. When Baldwin and the others drew nearer, it was easy to see – or, rather, to smell
