Godwyn had come for a ceremonial crosier, or shepherd’s crook, made of wood encased in gold, with an elaborately jewelled handle. This was ritually handed to the new prior at the end of the election process. The crook was at the bottom of the chest, not having been used for thirteen years. As Godwyn drew it out, Simeon let out an exclamation.
Godwyn looked up sharply. Simeon was holding a large crucifix on a stand, intended to be placed on an altar. “What’s the matter?” Godwyn said.
Simeon showed him the back of the cross and pointed to a shallow cup-shaped indentation just below the crosspiece. Godwyn immediately saw that a ruby was missing. “It must have fallen out,” he said. He glanced around the library: they were alone.
They were both worried. As treasurer and sacrist they shared responsibility. They would be blamed for any loss.
Together they examined every item in the chest. They unwrapped each one and shook out every blue cloth. They looked at all the leather sheets. Frantically, they scrutinized the empty box and the floor all around. The ruby was nowhere to be seen.
Simeon said: “When was the crucifix last used?”
“At the feast of St Adolphus, when Carlus fell. He knocked it off the table.”
“Perhaps the ruby fell out then. But how is it possible that no one noticed?”
“The stone was on the back of the cross. But surely someone would have seen it on the floor?”
“Who picked up the crucifix?”
“I don’t remember,” Godwyn said quickly. “The situation was confused.” In fact he remembered perfectly well.
It was Philemon.
Godwyn could picture the scene. Philemon and Otho together had righted the altar, setting it squarely on its platform. Then Otho had picked up the candlesticks and Philemon the cross.
With a growing feeling of dismay, Godwyn recalled the disappearance of Lady Philippa’s bracelet. Had Philemon stolen again? He trembled to think how it might affect him. Everyone knew that Philemon was Godwyn’s unofficial acolyte. Such a dreadful sin – stealing a jewel from a sacred ornament – would bring shame on everyone associated with the perpetrator. It could easily upset the election.
Simeon obviously did not recollect the scene exactly, and he accepted without question Godwyn’s feigned inability to remember who had picked up the cross. But others among the monks would surely recall seeing it in Philemon’s hands. Godwyn had to put this right quickly, before suspicion could fall on Philemon. But first he had to get Simeon out of the way.
“We must search for the ruby in the church,” Simeon said.
“But the service was two weeks ago,” Godwyn protested. “A ruby can’t have lain on the floor unnoticed for that length of time.”
“It’s unlikely, but we must check.”
Godwyn saw that he had to go with Simeon, and wait for an opportunity to get away from him and seek out Philemon. “Of course,” he said.
They put the ornaments away and locked the treasury door. As they left the library, Godwyn said: “I suggest we say nothing about this until we’re sure the jewel has been lost. No point in bringing blame on our heads prematurely.”
“Agreed.”
They hurried around the cloisters and entered the church. They stood in the centre of the crossing and scanned the ground all around them. A month ago, the idea that a ruby could lie hidden somewhere on the church floor would have been more plausible; but recently the flagstones had been repaired, and the cracks and chips had disappeared. A ruby would have stood out.
Simeon said: “Now that I come to think of it, wasn’t it Philemon who picked up the crucifix?”
Godwyn looked at Simeon’s face. Was there accusation in the expression? He could not tell. “It may have been Philemon,” Godwyn said. Then he saw a chance to get away. “I’ll go and fetch him,” he suggested. “Perhaps he will be able to recall exactly where he was standing at the time.”
“Good idea. I’ll wait here.” Simeon got down on his knees and began to pat the floor with his hands, as if the ruby might be found by touch more easily than by sight.
Godwyn hurried out. He went first to the dormitory. The blanket cupboard was in the same place. He pulled it away from the wall, found the loose stone, and removed it. He put his hand into the hidey-hole where Philemon had stashed Lady Philippa’s bracelet.
He found nothing there.
He cursed. It was not going to be that easy.
I’ll have to dismiss Philemon from the monastery, he thought as he strode through the priory buildings looking for him. If he has stolen this ruby, I can’t cover up for him again. He’s out.
Then he realized, with a shock of dismay, that he could not dismiss Philemon – not now, perhaps not ever. It was Philemon who had told Friar Murdo about the Isabella charter. If dismissed, Philemon could confess what he had done, and reveal that he had done it at Godwyn’s instigation. And he would be believed. Godwyn recalled Thomas’s puzzling over who had told Murdo the secret, and why. Philemon’s revelation would gain conviction by answering that question.
There would be an outcry at such underhand work. Even if the disclosure were made after the election, it would undermine Godwyn’s authority and cripple his ability to lead the monks. The ominous truth dawned on him that he now had to protect Philemon in order to protect himself.
He found Philemon sweeping the hospital floor. He beckoned him outside and led him around to the back of the kitchen, where it was unlikely that anyone would see them.
He looked Philemon in the eye and said: “There’s a ruby missing.”
Philemon looked away. “How terrible.”
“It’s from the altar crucifix that was knocked to the floor when Carlus fell over.”
Philemon pretended innocence. “How could it have gone missing?”
“The ruby may have become dislodged when the crucifix hit the floor. But it’s not on the floor now – I’ve just looked. Someone found it – and kept it.”
“Surely not.”
Godwyn felt angered by Philemon’s false air of innocence. “You fool, everyone saw you pick up that crucifix!”
Philemon’s voice rose to a higher pitch. “I know nothing about it!”
“Don’t waste time lying to me! We have to put this right. I could lose the election on your account.” Godwyn pushed Philemon up against the wall of the bakehouse. “Where is it?”
To his astonishment, Philemon began to cry.
“For the love of the saints,” Godwyn said disgustedly. “Stop this nonsense – you’re a grown man!”
Philemon continued to sob. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“If you don’t stop that-” Godwyn checked himself. Nothing was to be gained by berating Philemon. The man was truly pathetic. Speaking more gently, he said: “Try to pull yourself together. Where is the ruby?”
“I hid it.”
“Yes…”
“In the refectory chimney.”
Godwyn immediately turned away, heading for the refectory. “Mary save us, it could fall into the fire!”
Philemon followed, his tears drying. “There’s no fire in August. I would have moved it before the cold weather.”
They entered the refectory. At one end of the long room was a wide fireplace. Philemon put his arm up the chimney and fumbled for a moment. Then he produced a ruby the size of a sparrow’s egg, covered with soot. He wiped it clean on his sleeve.