they-’
‘They jumped on him!’ Josse finished for her. ‘They believed he was the thief! They stripped him and searched through his pack and when they found nothing they tortured him to make him say where he had hidden it! When he did not tell them — he couldn’t, of course, because, not being the thief, he didn’t know — they killed him.’ After a moment’s reflection, he said, ‘It is indeed a grave accusation, my lady.’
She looked anxious. ‘I realize that, and-’
‘Grave it may be,’ Gervase said, ‘but I think it is an accur ate one.’
Josse looked at him. ‘You do?’
Slowly Gervase nodded. ‘As you said, my lady — ’ he smiled at the Abbess — ‘there just aren’t that many Saracens around here. It seems only logical that Josse’s pair thought the dead man was their thief.’
‘If they did,’ the Abbess said thoughtfully, ‘then we are wrong about their having been present that night in the desert. If they had been, they would know what the thief looked like.’
‘True,’ Josse agreed. ‘Unless either then or subsequently he adopted a disguise.’
Gervase gave a short bark of laughter, but there was little mirth in it. ‘Oh, Josse,’ he said, ‘you turn a puzzle inside out and double its complexity!’
Josse grinned. ‘Aye, I know.’ Then, after a moment, ‘I am trying to picture that night. Thibault’s party of eight Hospitallers escorting the prisoner; his name was Fadil. The wealthy man, waiting with his bodyguard and clutching some valuable possession with which to buy back his beloved younger brother. Then something goes wrong. A fight breaks out, the prisoner is killed, the elder brother barely escapes with his life and all the Hospitallers die save the one who ran away.’
‘Do you think that one side or the other might have tried to win both prisoner and ransom?’ suggested Gervase.
‘I would not think the Knights Hospitaller capable of such treachery,’ Josse answered. ‘Thibault implied that it is quite common for monks of the Order to act as brokers in such exchanges and that is, I imagine, because both parties trust them to ensure fair play.’
‘I do not speak of the Order as a whole,’ Gervase said. ‘It would only take one man to instigate treachery.’
‘He would have had to persuade seven other Hospitallers to go along with it,’ Josse observed.
‘Six,’ Gervase said. ‘One ran away.’
‘Perhaps he was the traitor,’ the Abbess remarked. ‘He could have killed his brethren and fled the scene.’
‘Perhaps the runaway monk stole the treasure!’ Gervase exclaimed. He punched his fist into the palm of his other hand in frustration. ‘Dear God, but we fumble around like blind men!’
The Abbess stood up and both men turned to her. ‘We have made progress with our fumbling,’ she said with a smile, ‘and tomorrow Thibault will, I hope, be able to speak to us again. Let us think what we will ask him, for if we are allowed limited time, we do not want to waste it.’
It was, Josse thought a sensible suggestion. As the Abbess found a scrap of vellum and dipped her quill in the inkhorn, he and Gervase went to stand either side of her.
It was marginally better than doing nothing.
Outremer, September 1194
He sat slumped on the sand. Reality had slipped quietly away and he was in the middle of a nightmare.
He could not absorb what he had just seen. Its power was sheer evil and a superstitious man would have said it came straight from the devil himself.
But that was not the worst of it.
The worst had begun so slowly, so insidiously that at first he had barely noticed.
Brother James had yawned.
It was quite funny to start with. So much excitement — the incredible sight of what they had just witnessed; the tense situation out there in the black night beneath the stars; the bright silken tent, the lanterns, the fat man’s luxurious garments; the sights, the smells — and there was dear old Brother James looking as if he could barely keep his eyes open! How he would be teased!
But then one of the guards standing beside the prisoner suddenly slumped to the ground. He tried to stand up again but his legs seemed to have turned to jelly.
Then right beside the young monk Brother Thomas gave a sort of groan; turning, he stared right into Thomas’s eyes and saw in the flickering lantern light that the pupils were widely dilated, so that blue-eyed Thomas looked dark-eyed as a Saracen…
It was horrible.
But the horror was only just beginning.
Eight
In the afternoon, Gervase returned to Tonbridge. He said testily that he could not kick his heels at Hawkenlye waiting for Thibault to wake up. ‘In the meantime,’ he added, ‘the entire criminal population of the Medway valley may be thieving, raping, pillaging and looting, and nobody there to restrain them.’
Josse, understanding Gervase’s frustration, walked over to the stable block with him. ‘Give my love to Sabin,’ he said, ‘and I’ll send word as soon as there’s anything to tell you.’
‘Very well,’ Gervase said. Then, with a grin, ‘I’m sorry, Josse. It’s just that-’ He broke off, apparently unable to put his thought into words.
‘I understand,’ Josse said feelingly. ‘All that we so badly want to know is beyond our reach behind the mist.’
Gervase’s smile spread. ‘I would not have put it so poetically but yes, that’s it. Farewell, Josse — I hope to be back soon.’
Josse watched him ride away. Then, for want of anything better to do, he strolled down to the Vale to pass the time of day with Brother Saul.
Late in the evening, Sister Caliste came to inform him that Thibault was awake, his pain was less intense and he had drunk a bowl of broth. ‘Abbess Helewise is on her way to him,’ she added, ‘and asks that you join her.’
Josse saw the improvement instantly. And Brother Otto was stirring, although the nursing nuns were keeping him sedated. Thibault watched with intent eyes as the Abbess and Josse went to stand on either side of his cot. Then he said, ‘You wish to hear about the fire. Since I awoke I have been thinking of nothing else. I have put my thoughts in order and I am ready to tell you.’
Josse said, ‘We are ready to listen.’
‘It was the second night that we were lodging at the priory,’ Thibault began. ‘We went to bed very tired, for we had searched all that day for the runaway monk, asking questions in Tonbridge and the neighbouring hamlets. My two brethren fell asleep quickly and I soon followed. Then something disturbed me; I cannot say what. I lay quite still, but it was dark and I could see nothing. Then as my eyes adjusted I made out the small square of the window; a lighter patch in the blackness. I listened to see if whatever had awoken me would recur and, after a while, it did.’ He looked from one to the other of his listeners, making sure he had their full attention. ‘It was the latch being lifted very gently from its hook. I could not see, but I could hear, and I remembered that the door was a little stiff, so that even with the latch free, one still has to push the door quite hard to open it. The timber is new,’ he added, ‘and has probably swollen a little, so that it is tight in the door frame.’
‘Someone was trying to get in?’ Josse prompted.
‘Yes. I sensed the door opening and then I saw the outline of a figure pass in front of the little window. I felt a waft of air as he swiftly moved further into the room. Brother Jeremiah was sleeping closest to the door and thus he was the first of us that the intruder came to.’ His face fell and briefly his lips moved in a muttered prayer. ‘Then I heard a sort of rustling sound, as of a man stirring in his bed, and a sort of muffled cry, presumably from poor Brother Jeremiah. There was the swishing, whistling noise of something heavy moving rapidly through the air and then those two hideous thumps.’ He raised a bandaged hand and covered his eyes.
‘You are quite sure that what you heard was the assailant attacking Brother Jeremiah?’ Josse asked
