“Stop!” howled Ralph. “Have you taken leave of your senses?
The man was a leper. Unclean, unclean!”
“Yet this apple is red and shiny.”
“Except where he has taken a bite out of it.”
“No, Ralph. Alain did not touch it. Bertha did.”
“Oh, I see,” mocked Ralph. “Bertha took one bite out of the apple, flung it up into the air at the leper hospital and Alain was the first to catch it. Is that how it came into his possession?”
“He found it by that clump of holly.”
“Where the girl herself was discovered?”
“Yes,” said Gervase with growing certainty. “I knew that Alain had seen a clue of some kind. He was the one who first spotted Bertha.” He held up the apple. “And this is what he saw on the ground beside her.”
“How do you know?”
“Why else would he give it to me?”
“It was pure chance. If some other kind soul had tossed him a coin as you did, he might have given them his apple instead.”
“No. Alain was waiting for me. He knew that I would ride in or out of the gate sooner or later. When I asked for his help before, he refused to give it to me. Something has changed his mind.”
“What?”
“The death of Brother Martin.”
“Perhaps the old monk took the bite out of the apple.”
“This is serious, Ralph,” said Gervase, still turning it slowly in his hand. “I would wager anything that this was found beside Bertha’s corpse.”
“Then why did the leper pick it up?”
“As a keepsake.”
“A half-eaten apple? It would soon decay.”
“Even then he would have cherished it. Bertha was one of the only two friends he had in the world. This keepsake was all that he had to remember her by. It must have been a huge sacrifice to give it to me.”
“But where does it get us?” said Ralph. “Even if your guess is right-and I am very sceptical-what are you actually holding in your hand?”
“I told you, Ralph. A clue.”
“To what? Bertha’s eating habits? That is all that it tells us.
The girl liked apples. Shortly before she was killed, she took a bite out of this one. It fell to the ground beside her. Where is the revelation in that?”
Gervase pondered anew until the answer slowly emerged.
“That snake!” he exclaimed.
“Snake?”
“Found near the clump of holly.”
“Ah!” teased Ralph. “So it was the snake which took a bite out of the apple, was it? That explains everything.”
“You have forgotten your Bible.”
“I have certainly done my best.”
“Yet even you must remember Genesis.”
“Adam and Eve?”
“Yes, Ralph. The Garden of Eden. Who persuaded Eve to eat the apple from the Tree of Knowledge?”
“The serpent.”
“Exactly. And what did they discover by that clump of holly? A young woman, an apple and a serpent. It was a deliberate warning, Ralph. A sign that Bertha had gained some forbidden knowledge and forfeited her life as a result.”
“You are reading too much into this.”
“Am I?”
“What murderer would make such use of Scripture?”
“One who disguised himself as a monk.”
Ralph was jolted. He was compelled to accept that there might have been something emblematic about Bertha’s death. There was a strange logic to Gervase’s argument. In giving him the apple, Alain the Leper might indeed have provided an invaluable clue.
“A final proof,” said Gervase. “Bertha did not touch this apple.
Look at the size of the bite. A much larger and stronger mouth left that damage on the fruit. It was placed beside her, along with the snake, after she was strangled. A careful tableau was arranged.”
“A biblical villain!” noted Ralph. “It makes me even more determined to catch the rogue. We will have some local Noah murdered in a makeshift ark next!”
“This information must be given to the sheriff.”
“Not if we wish to make best use of it.”
“We must not withhold evidence, Ralph.”
“Who found that evidence? We did. Why should we do the sheriff’s work for him, then let him have the credit? No, Gervase.
It would take his officers a month to learn what we have rooted out in a single day.”
“We have certain advantages over them.”
“Intelligence, for a start.”
“I was thinking of poor Brother Martin,” said Gervase. “I was with him when we examined the place where Bertha was hidden.
And, unhappily, I was the one who found him dead. I also have a witness at the hospital.”
“Witness?”
“Alain the Leper. He trusted me. He gave me a keepsake that he was sorry to lose because he thought it would somehow help in the pursuit of the killer.”
“It will,” said Ralph, slapping his thigh. “Two corpses, but only one murderer. We must divide our strength to stalk him. You follow his spoor from Brother Martin and I will begin my hunt here at Bertha’s grave. With luck, we should close in on him from two sides.”
Gervase took one last look at the apple before wrapping it in its cloth and slipping it into his saddlebag. When they had arranged to meet later, he set off in the direction of the cathedral.
Ralph looked sadly across at the churchyard. The mound of fresh earth that marked Bertha’s last resting place was encircled by wreaths and posies. An irreverent raven landed inquisitively at the grave and pecked at the earth. Ralph was about to dismount to find a stone to hurl at it, when it suddenly flew away.
Reinbald the Priest came out of the church and closed the door behind him. He spread his arms in apology.
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, my lord,” he said. “But I had to give instruction to my churchwarden. We have another funeral this afternoon.”
“Bertha’s is the one that concerns me.”
“How may I help?”
“By telling me something of her family,” said Ralph, as he got down from the saddle. “Osbern has spoken about the father but there were other relatives here this morning.”
“Mostly from Alwin’s side of the family. They live in Fordwich and, like him, are tied in some way to the sea. Visit the port and mention his name. You will have no difficulty finding one of his brothers.”
“What about his wife’s side of the family?”
“They are few in number, my lord.”
“No parents still alive?”
“I fear not.”
“Brothers or sisters?”
“One sister. Bertha’s aunt. She was at the funeral.”
“I would like to speak with them all,” decided Ralph. “And with Alwin himself, of course, when he is through the ordeal of today.
I will start in Fordwich, then talk to this aunt of Bertha’s.”
A faint smile threatened. “Take care, my lord.”
“Why?”
“Juliana is a prickly conversationalist.”
“Is that a polite way of saying that she does not like Normans?
If that is so, I will take my wife with me. Golde is a Saxon and will act as interpreter. What is the problem with this aunt Juliana?”
“She is something of a shrew.”
“Not married, then?”
“No man would take on such a belligerent partner.”
“How well did she know Bertha?”
“Very well,” said Reinbald. “Juliana had a soft spot in her heart for her niece. The biting tongue was reserved for her father and his side of the family.”
“Why?”
“I do not know, my lord. But this I can vouchsafe. When her sister died, Juliana stopped visiting Canterbury. She and Alwin have not spoken for years.”
“What of Bertha?”
“When she wanted to see her aunt, she went to Faversham.
On foot, my lord. A walk of eight miles.”
“That shows an eagerness to visit this aunt Juliana. I would like to meet the lady, shrew or not.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“We passed a sign for Faversham on our way here. How would I find this termagant?”
“If I had a horse, I would teach you the way myself,” offered the priest with sudden enthusiasm. “But you might think me an encumbrance to your work.”