Chapter 13
‘It is an unassailable theory,’ Athelstan began, ‘that murder, like charity, always begins at home. In this case, home was the Night in Jerusalem, where a group of young knights, brothers-in-arms, assembled over twenty years ago to take part in the Great Crusade of Lord Peter of Cyprus. Eager, hungry young men, raised in the House of War, who saw their fortunes threatened by the recent peace treaty with France. A group of such knights from the shire of Kent assembled here with their chaplain Brother Malachi.’ Athelstan glanced quickly at the Benedictine. ‘Only one was an outsider: Edward Mortimer, a landless knight who’d become the handfast friend of Culpepper, so close they were like peas in a pod.’
Athelstan moved his chair sideways so he could stare out of the window to where Flaxwith and the others were busy digging up Master Rolles’ garden.
‘You didn’t have much money.’ He was aware how quiet the solar had become; the ghosts were now gathering. ‘You came up to London,’ he continued, ‘and took lodgings in this tavern, recently purchased by Master Rolles with the plunder and the ransoms he had earned in France. Through Master Rolles you became acquainted with Mother Veritable, who owned a pleasure house down near the stews. Now, Culpepper fell in love with one of the ladies of the night, who rejoiced in the name of Guinevere the Golden, a beautiful woman, fair of face but fickle of heart. You all enjoyed yourselves while the crusading army gathered and the cogs of war assembled in the Thames.’
‘What does all this mean?’ Sir Maurice Clinton spoke up, his face ashen and sweat-stained.
‘God knows the true reason,’ Athelstan ignored the interruption, ‘but His Grace John of Gaunt, together with the Lombard banker Teodoro Tonnelli, decided that part of the war chest, the loan raised by the Crusader commanders, should be transported secretly, by night, to the Admiral’s flagship waiting in the Thames. His Grace wished to avoid any public show, so as not to attract the attention of the outlaw gangs or mob of river pirates which crowded along the Thames like flies on a dung heap. To make a long story brief, on the Eve of St Matthew, the Year of Our Lord 1360, the treasure barge left the Tower, crossed the Thames and went along the south bank, past the Oyster Wharf to a secret location. His Grace had decided that the treasure would be taken out the Fleet by his trusted retainer Edward Mortimer, who’d also brought Richard Culpepper into the secret design. Both knights were well rewarded by His Grace. They were to attract the treasure barge in, by lantern or torchlight, and the chest would be moved to an ordinary barge specially hired for that occasion. The treasure duly arrived. The two knights, waiting on the river bank, took charge of it, and brought their own barge in. They were to pay the boatmen off and take the treasure to the flagship.’
Cranston played with the edge of his cloak. He didn’t know what path Athelstan was following, but he understood why the little friar was talking so slowly, keeping a watchful eye on what was going on in the garden. Cranston was also vigilant. The two knights sat like carved statues as their mask of respectability was slowly peeled away. Cranston was more wary of Rolles, who seemed to have recovered his wits. One hand had already slipped beneath the table. Cranston remembered how this dagger man had a knife in a sheath on his belt, as well as another in the top of his boot. His fingers slipped to the hilt of his own knife. He would watch Master Rolles.
‘Imagine the scene,’ Athelstan continued, ‘a fairly cloudless sky, the moon riding high, the Thames quiet and sluggish, the silence broken by the cries of the night, creatures hunting their prey. Culpepper and Mortimer talking to the bargemen, eager to be away, unaware that more deadly hunters were loose along the river that night.’
‘But, but,’ Sir Reginald Branson intervened, ‘no one knew of this.’
‘Nonsense!’ Athelstan scoffed. ‘No one, apart from those two knights, was supposed to know; they didn’t even tell the boatmen why they needed their barge. Culpepper, however, had made a dreadful mistake. He truly loved Guinevere the Golden. He had shown her the money he had earned, and whispered about how there would be more. Guinevere was the last person he should have told, and he did tell her everything: the treasure, the secret place along the Thames, the arrangements, even the hour. Guinevere was fickle of heart. Culpepper may have loved her, but her attentions were already wandering. Unbeknown to Culpepper, she was also bestowing her favours on one of the other knights. I don’t know who. Perhaps you, Sir Maurice? Sir Thomas Davenport, or Sir Laurence Broomhill? She told one and he told the rest. Were you poor, penniless knights already resentful of the fortune and favour shown to Culpepper and this relative newcomer Mortimer? So, you hatched a plot to steal the treasure, and you enlisted the help of Master Rolles and Mother Veritable.’
‘I didn’t. .’ Master Rolles raised a hand. ‘Sir John,’ he gasped, ‘this is nonsense.’
‘Hush now,’ Athelstan soothed. ‘On the night in question you pretended you were all revelling and carousing in a chamber here at the Night in Jerusalem. No one would mark the hours, not even the Misericord, who was serving as a pot boy, or the other heavy-eyed servants and maids, only too eager to slip exhausted into their narrow beds. Now, Master Rolles, you owned a great high-sided cart, the perfect place to hide a group of men under a leather awning. You had the cart hitched, its wheels covered in straw and sacking to hide the sound, and slipped away, leaving probably only two of the knights to continue the sound of revelling and carousing so as to distract the attention of others. You knew, thanks to Guinevere, where Culpepper and Mortimer would be waiting for the treasure. You came upon them suddenly and silently. All of you are trained bowmen, skilled archers. You arrived at the moment Culpepper and Mortimer took possession of the barge.’
Athelstan paused.
‘The attack would be swift, the shafts hissing through air.’ The friar glanced quickly at Malachi, now so pale his eyes seemed like dark pools, his lips thin, bloodless lines. ‘Four corpses,’ Athelstan continued, ‘transfixed by arrows. You quickly carried them to the waiting cart, together with the treasure chest. The location was secret. The river water would soon wash away any signs of violence. You pushed the barge out into mid-stream, having cleared it of any possessions.’
‘And Guinevere the Golden?’ Cranston asked, his gaze still intent on Master Rolles.
‘Ah, Guinevere the Golden,’ Athelstan sighed. ‘She whom fortune didn’t favour. Poor Culpepper died thinking she loved him and him only. The men she betrayed him to encouraged her to maintain this illusion. I suppose she was told to wait for Culpepper somewhere lonely and dark; what better place than their usual love tryst, the cemetery at St Erconwald’s, near to the river but far enough away from the Night in Jerusalem. She was to wait there until it was all over. Of course, if you betray one person, it’s only a matter of time before you betray someone else. Guinevere had to be silenced. I have no proof that it was at St Erconwald’s, but I do know that Mother Veritable took care of her. The cart containing the four other corpses would stop to pick up her body as well. In the dead of night that cart, its wheels muffled, slipped back into the Night in Jerusalem.’
‘Master Rolles on his cart,’ Cranston intervened, ‘was a common enough sight at all hours of the day and night. Slatterns and servants, the Misericord included, slept in the tap room, under the tables. There’d be enough of you to keep watch in the dead of night. .’
‘There was also another way in.’ Athelstan spoke quickly, fearful lest Cranston be carried away by his excitement at what was being revealed. ‘The small postern gate to the garden.’ The friar stared down the table. ‘Master Rolles, I must study your accounts. I believe you were having the garden laid out then, weren’t you? The ground all dug up? A beautiful place now, but an ideal one at the time for hiding five corpses and all their possessions. They were brought through the postern gate that night.’ Athelstan gestured at window. ‘No wonder you had mantraps to protect such a place.’