He was less excited about the prospect when he realised that it involved a ride to Harbledown on his donkey. Gervase led him first to the spot where Bertha had been found and they dismounted to examine it. When the situation had been explained to him, Canon Hubert simmered with disgust.
“A woman, an apple and a serpent?”
“Is it too fanciful to imagine a reference to Genesis?”
“No, Gervase,” he said sternly. “But this was no mere reference to the First Book of the Old Testament. It is a shameful travesty of it. The Bible is being mocked.”
“That was my feeling, Canon Hubert.”
“Genesis tells of the Creation and yet one of its central images is here used to mark a scene of destruction. That is an act of the most foul blasphemy.”
“Who might have put it there?”
“Some mindless heathen.”
“He is not mindless,” said Gervase. “There is calculation here.
And why did he go to such trouble to present Bertha’s death as the result of snakebite? It is confusing.”
“What I perceive is the utmost profanity.”
“But did the killer expect it to be perceived? He wanted the girl to be found, the cause of her death to be ratified as snakebite and no further inquiry made. This strike at the Bible was for his own benefit.”
“It was certainly not for mine!”
“Nor for anyone else’s but the man himself,” said Gervase. “It tells us much about his mind. This tableau was a personal seal.
A signature on a death warrant.”
“There may be a double meaning here, Gervase.”
“What is that?”
“Genesis. Chapter three. Consider the opening verse,” he said, translating from the Latin in his memory. “Mark it well. ‘The serpent was more crafty than any wild creature that the Lord God had made.’ There is vile craftiness at work here. The killer is a serpent in himself.”
“Brother Martin certainly tasted his poison.”
After further discussion, they mounted up and rode on to the leper hospital of St. Nicholas. They arrived as one of its charges was about to take his leave.
“Good morrow to you, Alain!” greeted Gervase.
The leper paused to look up at them and gave a faint nod.
When Canon Hubert was introduced, he passed a kind remark to Alain but took great care not to get too close to him. Gervase made a point of showing that he was not frightened by proximity to the unfortunate young man. Dropping down from his horse, he strode over to him.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To be on my own.”
“You can do that here.”
“Not anymore.”
“You have your own hut.”
“Bertha does not come to it now,” said Alain wistfully. “Nor does Brother Martin. Both are gone.”
“Others have taken their place.”
“They can never do that.”
“They will try.”
Alain shrugged. “I must go.”
“Where?”
“Away from here,” he said, pointing to a path through the bushes. “Somewhere quiet where I can sit in the shade and where nobody will bother me. Somewhere that is mine.”
“What will you do there?”
“Pass the time.”
“Nothing else?”
Alain fingered the apple that was deep in his sleeve.
“I will remember.”
Gervase watched him until he disappeared from sight.
“Strange fellow!” said Hubert. “Lepers lead a twilight existence.
Poor creatures! Yet God put them on the earth for a purpose.
How do you know him?”
“Alain found the body at the place we have just been.”
“Was it he who gave you that apple?”
“Yes, Canon Hubert.”
“Does he guess at its meaning?”
“I think not.”
Hubert dismounted again. “What is it you wish to show me here?” he said. “I must not delay too long. Brother Martin’s funeral will be held this afternoon. I have to be back in time for that.”
“Let me show you where and how he died.”
Gervase led the way into the empty church and took up the position that had been occupied by Brother Martin at the moment of discovery. Hubert paid no heed to him. He was hypnotised by the tiny altar, gazing at its white cloth with a blend of reverence and revulsion, thinking of its Christian significance and recalling the black heart it had hidden beneath it on the day of the murder.
The sacred and the profane had been conjoined just as they had been at the scene of Bertha’s death.
Canon Hubert stared on, his heart pounding and his breath coming in short, irregular pants. Here was something worse than a simple mockery of Holy Writ. A blameless monk had been murdered in the House of God but it had been no random act.
There was malignant preparation.
The killer had emerged from the altar itself to commit the deed.
The very sacraments themselves were being abused. Canon Hubert was overcome with a sensation of complete horror when he realised the perfidy of what had taken place. The service of Holy Communion had been murdered just as ruthlessly as was Brother Martin. Instead of preserving body and soul unto everlasting life, the Body of Christ had been an instrument of death. The chalice which contained the Blood of Christ was a flask of poison.
Perspiration broke out on his face and body as he contemplated the magnitude of the desecration. Shielding his eyes from the hideous sight, Canon Hubert recited the Credo aloud to erect a further screen between himself and this blinding act of violation.
“ ‘Credo in unun Deo. Patrem Omnipotentem, factorum caeli at terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum. Et ex Patre natum ante omnia saecula. Deum et Deo …’ ” His mouth went dry but he forced himself on. “ ‘Deum et Deo … Deum et Deo …’ ” It was no use. The comforting phrases would not come. In the presence of such evil, Canon Hubert could not even affirm his faith. “ ‘Deum et Deo … lumen de lumine…’ ”
His voice trailed meekly away. Lowering his hands, he looked at the altar again and was overwhelmed once more by the enormity of the sacrilege. When the Credo could not come to his aid, he put all his strength and sense of outrage into a word that came hissing out of his mouth like hot steam.
“HERESY!”
“Where did you find him?” asked Golde.
“In the church. He slipped away while I was speaking with Juliana. Listening to her, rather,” he corrected, “for she did most of the talking. She is a fearsome creature in full flow. I can see why the men of Faversham shrink away.”
“Did you learn anything from her?”
“Yes,” said Ralph. “I discovered things about Alwin that nobody else would have told me. The journey was worthwhile. Reinbald felt that, even though his buttocks are raw from the ride and he walks sideways like a crab. He thanked me for taking him.”
“He was glad to see Faversham again.”
“A pretty place,” he said. “For all her thunder, I enjoyed meeting Juliana. I admire a woman with spirit and she has enough for ten. Like you.” He gave her a fond kiss. “But what has been happening here?”
They were in the solar. Golde told him how the problems of the household had been addressed throughout the morning. The baby was now asleep, Eadgyth more quiescent and Osbern less fraught.
A brittle peace had been restored to the house. Golde was determined that it would not be shattered again.
“I cannot apologise enough to you, my love.”
“Apologise?”
“For thrusting all this upon you,” he said. “Had we stayed at the castle, it might not have been as comfortable as here, but at least you would not have been expected to take over the running of the establishment.”
“That is no hardship to me, Ralph.”
“Are you sure?”
“I like it here. Osbern and Eadgyth are good people who are caught in a bad situation. I am only too pleased to help them out of it. And there is a huge compensation.”