I shook my head. I guessed it must have something to do with the expulsion of the Jews from England: there had been many atrocities in that year of Our Lord, 1290. Or many acts of zealous Christianity, depending on your point of view. I knew what mine was, but I pushed it down into the pool of other heretical thoughts and ideas swirling around just below the surface of my mind. When you’re a married man with children you can’t afford to be anything other than a coward.
‘So what did happen?’ I prompted.
Luke wriggled his shoulders as though they were hurting him. A day’s stooping in the pillory, pinioned by neck and wrists was sufficient to give anyone backache.
‘Well, according to my grandfather,’ he said, ‘who got it from his grandfather, or maybe his great-grandfather, most of the Bristol Jews fled the city early. They seemed to have foreseen what was coming and jumped before they were pushed, as the saying goes, taking ship from the Backs to France or Portugal or Spain. Apparently, the King had decreed that they should be allowed to take all money and movable goods with them — only land and property were to be forfeit to the crown — but of course this infuriated the local population everywhere. Everyone had hoped to grab a cache of the spoils for himself. The people of Bristol were no exception, and when word got round of the King’s decision, they stormed the synagogue. But, as I say, most of the Jews had already gone. However, about twenty or so were trapped down here in the cellar and hacked to pieces.’ Luke nodded at the floor. ‘That might just be a relic of this place’s grisly past.’
I understood now why I had always felt that sense of revulsion and misery in Saint Giles’s crypt and its adjacent chambers. Murder, hatred and grief were a part of the very stones, not only of these cellars, but also of the church itself. I wondered if other people felt it. Maybe that was why, for most of the time, it was so deserted …
All the same, I thought Luke was mistaken about the stain on the floor. I raised my candle and looked more closely at it. It was too dark, too fresh, to be two hundred years old. And there was also the evidence of the dust, disturbed and scuffed as it was. There had been a struggle here, but recently.
‘You’re wrong,’ I said. ‘This is where Robin Avenel was killed, I’m sure of it.’
Luke frowned, genuinely puzzled. ‘But why would his murderer bother to remove the body to Jewry Lane? Where would be the sense in that? Why not just run away? And there was the extra risk of being discovered while he was trying to lug the carcass up the steps from the crypt. As it happens, he wasn’t seen, but he might have been.’
I told him what I had told Adela earlier. ‘If I knew that, I’d probably have the solution to the killer’s identity. Now, don’t forget,’ I reminded him, ‘you’ve promised to say nothing about this to anyone.’
‘Oh, you can trust me,’ he assured me fervently. ‘If there’s anything I can do to put a spoke in Richard Manifold’s wheel, you can be certain that I’ll do it.’
There was no questioning his sincerity. His dislike of the sergeant made those brilliant blue eyes of his sparkle in the light from his candle.
I nodded and squeezed his arm gratefully. ‘Let’s go, then. Let’s get out of this place.’
We mounted the steps to the nave, snuffed out our candles and were about to take leave of one another, when the Bell Lane door creaked open.
There was a flurry of black draperies and Marianne Avenel came rushing in.
Seventeen
I had a sense of having watched this scene played out before, but this time, there were differences. To begin with, there was no skirt of pale yellow sarcenet billowing about Marianne Avenel as she ran, merely the sombre swish of a gown of deepest black. And secondly, she made no effort to conceal her true relationship with Luke, throwing herself into her lover’s arms regardless of my presence.
‘What … What are we going to do?’ she asked, sobbing noisily.
Luke smothered her in an all-enveloping embrace, pressing her face against his shoulder.
‘Hush, hush, sweetheart. There’s nothing we can do until the law has run its course. Richard Manifold already has a suspect under lock and key, as I’m sure you’ve heard by now. Master Chapman here doesn’t agree with Burl Hodge’s arrest, but it’s up to him to prove differently, and we shall just have to wait and see who’s right, him or the sergeant.’ Marianne made a little mewling sound of distress, but Luke patted her back and again hushed her gently. ‘Darling, believe me when I say that there is nothing either of us can do except attend upon events. For now, we must be careful. We don’t want to arouse suspicions.’
I privately thought it a bit late for such a precaution — half of Bristol seemed to know of their liaison — but I didn’t say so. What would have been the point? Marianne raised a tearful face from Luke’s shoulder and made an effort to control her overwrought emotions.
‘S-Sorry!’ she gasped. ‘It’s just that everything’s so awful!’
‘It will pass,’ he answered, kissing her gently between the eyes. ‘Trust me. Everything will be all right.’
She gave a tremulous smile. ‘As … As long as I have you,’ she whispered.
And, somewhat to my surprise, I found myself agreeing with her. Luke Prettywood was behaving with a maturity that surprised me. A woman on the verge of hysterics, which was how Marianne appeared to me, can be an unnerving ordeal for a young man. She opened her mouth to say something more, but he sealed it with another kiss.
‘By the way,’ he said lightly, ‘your father has dismissed me from the brewery because of my behaviour on Midsummer Eve. Assaulting an officer of the law is more than he’s prepared to stomach. So it may be easier to avoid one another’s company than we think.’
He had successfully diverted her attention away from her own woes, as no doubt he had intended.
‘Dismissed you?’ The vulnerable, kittenish look had vanished and the pretty, rounded features hardened with fury. ‘Dismissed you? I’ll soon see about that!’
Already, as I could see, calculations were going on behind those luminous grey eyes as Marianne considered how best to persuade Gregory Alefounder to change his mind, without revealing her own intense interest in the outcome.
At this point, Hercules, who had settled down to guard my pack where I had dropped it on entering Saint Giles, ambled across and cocked a leg against one of mine, a warm, wet stream flowing down inside my left boot, while my companions, temporarily forgetting their troubles, burst out laughing.
‘Does he often do that?’ Luke enquired when he could catch his breath.
I sighed. ‘Only when he has a grievance. At present, he’s annoyed at being kept waiting while we visited the crypt.’
Marianne glanced up quickly at her swain. ‘Why were you in the crypt?’
Luke hedged, plainly not wishing to upset her further just at present. ‘It’s … It’s nothing important, sweeting. I’ll tell you later. By the way, how did you know where to find me?’
‘Oh, I was unable to stay in the house a moment longer. It’s stifling in this heat, and I felt I couldn’t bear Elizabeth’s company for another second. She’s in such a peculiar mood. More angry than grieving. Yesterday was dreadful! So I got up early and when I’d breakfasted I decided that I must go out. I went to the brewery first, but you weren’t there. Of course, now I understand why. Father was horrid to me. He yelled and said I was a disgrace, wandering about the city without a maid in attendance and me a widow of only one day. I ought to be at home, keeping to my chamber. All the apprentices and carters were standing around in the yard, listening. It was so humiliating. I just burst into tears and ran away. And then I bumped into that apothecary who keeps the shop near the brothels. He was knocking on our door as I reached home. I don’t know why — some remedy for Elizabeth or Dame Dorothy, I suppose — and he told me that he’d noticed you and the chapman entering Saint Giles’s Church. So I came here.’