01 - Murder in the Holy City (33 page)

“Why did Maria do this to you?” Geoffrey asked.

“Oh, she hates old Akira,” said the butcher in a nasal whine. “She told me last night, when I was hanging there like a trussed goat, that she wanted me to be blamed for these vile murders. She wanted to pay me back.” He began to weep crocodile tears, and Geoffrey sensed the war of attrition between the wily old butcher and his scheming daughter had been waged over many years, and that no love was lost between them. Akira’s false tears now were probably aimed to make the knights feel sorry for him and leave him some money.

Akira continued his sorrowful tale. “But those priests were kind, and didn’t arrest old Akira when I found Brother Pius in my shop. Then yesterday, that Maria says she’s leaving the city with her lover. Adam.”

Geoffrey wondered whether it was Adam or Maria who had led the other to betray family and friends. Maria had tried to kill her father and had tried to implicate him and Melisende in the murders; meanwhile, Adam was a Greek spying on his own community under Melisende’s command. What a pair!

“She brung me cakes once,” said Akira, blubbering with self-pity, “but when I gives one to old Joseph, he dropped down dead. So, she’s tried to kill me before!”

“Old Joseph?” queried Geoffrey, hoping this was not another priest or knight.

“My cat!” wailed Akira, fresh tears welling down his cheeks. “I tried hard with Maria. But after all I did, she still finds me repulsive!”

Really? thought Geoffrey, unable to stop himself glancing at the sordid room and its shabby inhabitant, I wonder why? But if Maria had sent poisoned cakes to her father, she had probably also sent them to Dunstan. Melisende, it appeared, was blameless for that part of the mystery after all. And with sickening clarity, Geoffrey suddenly realized exactly how Maria had done it. Marius had smuggled whores into the scriptorium on Thursdays, and the one Alain loved was called Mary. It was probably Maria, and she had left the cakes for Dunstan at the same time. And sweet old Father Almaric, who had given Maria the scroll addressed to Brother Salvatori from the Advocate, was the same trusted associate of the Patriarch who had recommended Maria to Melisende!

“Is this making any sense to you, lad?” asked Roger, rubbing at his head tiredly. “Because I am flummoxed!”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest,” came the soft voice they knew so well from the doorway. Geoffrey whirled round, his sword already out of its scabbard, but Hugh had two archers with their bows at the ready at his side and Geoffrey faltered. Hugh saw his hesitation and nodded. “You are wise to be cautious, Geoffrey. I have come too far to be stopped now, and if you make the slightest move toward me, these men are under instruction to kill you.”

Geoffrey felt sick. So far, the notion of Hugh’s treachery had been a distant thing, something with which he had not yet had to come to terms. Now, Hugh was standing in front of him, threatening to kill him as easily as he had killed the Bedouin child in the desert.

“Hugh …” he began, taking a step forward. Immediately, both archers swung their bows round to face him, and Geoffrey saw their wrists begin to draw back. He stopped.

“Throw down your weapons,” ordered Hugh of Geoffrey and Roger. Geoffrey hesitated, but saw the resolute expression on Hugh’s face. He dropped his sword and then heard Roger’s clatter to the ground behind him. “Now your daggers. Both of them,” he added for Roger’s benefit. “And move back against that wall.”

Geoffrey and Roger backed away until they stood side by side against the far wall. Akira slouched with them, moaning softly, while Hugh’s archers were ranged opposite, their eyes never leaving Geoffrey and Roger. Hugh made a motion with his hand, and others clustered into the small room, one of which was the gentle Father Almaric, who smiled beneficently at Geoffrey. Another was Adam, who made a threatening gesture toward the cowering Akira.

“Please,” Akira whispered. “I got nothing to do with all this. I’m only a poor butcher. Let me go, and you won’t be sorry. I got some nice lean meat round the back, and I’ll keep you supplied for as long as you stay in our lovely city.”

Hugh looked around him and shuddered. “It is a tempting offer,” he said. “But I am afraid I must decline.”

“Did you kill them, Hugh?” asked Geoffrey softly. “Did you kill John, Guido, and the monks?”

“Not Loukas, the last one,” said Hugh. “That was none of my doing. But I was forced to kill Guido and John. I offered them a chance to join our select group to replace this vacillating Advocate who festers on the throne of Jerusalem with a strong king, but they declined. Since I had already given them details of our plan, they had to die.”

“Why them?” asked Geoffrey, a sick feeling spreading through him as he imagined the young, impressionable John at the mercy of such ruthless cunning as Hugh’s.

“You already know,” said Hugh. “I need strong and intelligent soldiers for my plan to work. Guido was grieving for his wife and was considering taking the cowl; I needed him because he was an excellent strategist. I killed him as he strolled in the gardens at the Dome of the Rock, which had become a habit of his. And John was intelligent and a man of integrity; he would have been an asset to our cause. I had Maria lure him to her mistress’s house, where I, not a welcoming lover, awaited him. But others listened and have joined with us—all good, strong men who want to see Jerusalem remain in Christian hands, not taken back by the Saracens just because the present Advocate cannot keep it.”

“And Jocelyn and Pius?”

“I had to kill Jocelyn because he helped Guido write a missive to the Advocate outlining our plans. Fortunately, Guido refrained from mentioning me by name and was stupid enough to sign with his monkish name. Had he signed himself Guido and not Salvatori, I might have been in serious trouble. Jocelyn was also a double agent for the Patriarch and was simply too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

“And Pius?”

Hugh shrugged. “Jocelyn was very careful during the two days after Guido’s death—he knew he was in danger. I followed him one night and killed him just as he reached the Dome of the Rock and thought he was safe. On the way, I saw him stop and talk to a monk. I could not take the risk that Jocelyn had told this monk our secret, so I killed him too. Maria opened the door of this place so I could leave the body here. You see, I had to create a smoke screen to prevent anyone seeing a pattern in the deaths. I used those cheap daggers from the market so that people might believe the killings were ritualistic, and I even managed to retrieve them on occasion to thicken the mystery. But the one I used on John was stolen from his corpse. You cannot trust anyone in this city.”

Geoffrey regarded him sombrely. “Poor Pius had trouble sleeping. I am sure Jocelyn told him nothing. Pius was probably only making idle chatter with a fellow monk out in the night.”

“I cannot help that,” said Hugh abruptly. “One cannot be too careful in these political games. But I am innocent of that Greek monk’s death. The word is that the Patriarch had him killed, although I cannot think why.”

“And Maria helped you hide the bodies?” asked Geoffrey.

“Maria, Adam, and Father Almaric, among others. It was Almaric who was able to warn me about Guido’s letter to the Advocate outlining our plans.”

Father Almaric stepped forward and, beaming benignly, sketched a benediction at Geoffrey and Roger. Geoffrey wondered if he was in complete control of his wits. It was Almaric who had recommended Maria to the Patriarch as a maid to Melisende: a spy to watch over a spy.

“I know,” said Geoffrey. Hugh looked startled, and Geoffrey explained. “Jocelyn used Father Almaric as confessor, presumably because Almaric professed to be one of the Patriarch’s most loyal subjects, and Jocelyn assumed anything passed to Almaric would not only be under the seal of confession, but safe because Almaric was the Patriarch’s man. But when Celeste reminded Father Almaric that the monk with the distinctive eyes came to him for confession, Almaric pretended to have forgotten him.”

“But it is true, my son,” said Almaric, earnestly. “I forgot so much because of the incessant agony in my feet. But since I tried the remedy you recommended, I have been much better. I am able to walk, and the pain is so much improved that I am able to sleep much better at night, and so wake refreshed and sharp-witted in the mornings.”

Wonderful, thought Geoffrey. He had guilelessly acted as physician to a man who was attempting to murder the Advocate.

“The letter the Advocate wrote to Guido?” asked Geoffrey. “How did you come to have it, Father?”

Hugh sighed and closed his eyes. “Does it really matter?” he said, wearily. “Sir Armand of Laon—he is one of us—appropriated it when it was delivered to the citadel. He gave it to Almaric for safekeeping when you began your enquiries. I sent Maria to fetch it when I decided it was time to put our plan into action. Father Almaric has been a good ally, but he is forgetful, and I wanted the letter in my possession lest my plan, for some reason, failed.”

“And Dunstan? How did he find out all this?”

Hugh gave a hearty sigh. “Do you think I have nothing better to do than to satisfy your curiosity? Dunstan found notes made by Jocelyn in Jocelyn’s desk in the scriptorium. Dunstan was foolish enough to believe he could blackmail us. I simply arranged that Maria send him some of her cakes, but not before I had a quiet word about what happened to men who tried to blackmail me. I suppose I literally frightened him to death.”

That would explain Dunstan’s increasing agitation in the days before his death. Foolish, greedy monk. If he had gone directly to the Patriarch with his findings, he would still be alive, and so, probably, would Marius. And Geoffrey would never have been dragged into the investigation, and Hugh would be safely behind bars, along with his seemingly formidable force of supporters.

“And of course, you killed Marius and pretended to have been attacked in the process.”

Hugh shrugged. “What else could I do? I had recruited him to our cause when he began his so-called investigation with Dunstan. But he was foolish enough to come running to me when he thought Dunstan had been murdered. He was simply too much of a liability. I talked with him for a while, to make certain he had made no written records of what he knew, and then I stabbed him. I smeared the blood from his wound onto my head to convince you I had been hit.”

“Why did you do all this, Hugh?” Geoffrey asked softly. “Was it worth the price?”

“Oh yes,” said Hugh, surprised by the question. “And it would have been worthwhile for you, too, given time. You are my friends. I would have looked to your interests.”

“But I would not want to profit from such crimes,” said Geoffrey coldly.

“You would,” said Hugh earnestly. “Why not join us! We plan to kill the Advocate within the next two days, and hold the throne for Bohemond. This city needs a man like Bohemond. The Advocate is a weakling, and even his own men admit it. We have seven of his knights in our ranks, and every one of them is with us because they know the Advocate is a poor leader.” He left his men and moved nearer to Geoffrey. “Come with us, Geoffrey! You have been on desert patrols, and you know that the Saracens are waiting out there like wolves as the Advocate’s rule grows steadily more chaotic. If we are to keep this land Christian, we need Bohemond on the throne.”

Geoffrey said nothing, and Hugh turned to Roger.

“You come with us, then!” he said. “You are Bohemond’s man! You owe it to him to help us rid ourselves of this pathetic Advocate who is killing our hold on the land.”

“All right, then,” said Roger agreeably. “Might as well swing for a sheep as for a lamb! I am with you, if it is for Bohemond you are working.”

“No, Roger!” cried Geoffrey. “This is treason! How do you know Bohemond is even aware of these plans?”

Hugh grinned at Roger and thumped him on the back in delight. “Good man! I should have known I could trust you.”

“Aye, lad,” said Roger, returning Hugh’s smile. “You should have had me in on all this before. I would have been an asset to you.”

“You still will be, Roger,” said Hugh. “Now, we have wasted enough time answering Geoffrey’s questions, and we have a lot to do.” He turned to Akira. “You have a cellar, I believe?”

Akira looked astonished. “How the hell did you know that?” Then his expression hardened. “That bloody Maria!”

Hugh smiled. “Open the door, if you would. You and Sir Geoffrey are going to spend some time together.”

Geoffrey’s heart sank as he saw Akira fumbling around in a distant, fetid corner to haul open a heavy trapdoor that had been concealed under the moving red carpet of his floor. Roger helped him haul it open, and Hugh took a lamp from Adam and peered down into the yawning hole.

“That should do,” he said, satisfied. He straightened up and looked across to Geoffrey and Akira, gesturing elegantly to the hole in the floor with his hand. “All yours, gentlemen.”

“Now, you just wait a minute!” blustered Akira. “I’m not going down there! That trapdoor’s heavy and can’t be reached from down below. How do I know you’ll come back and let us out?”

“My dear fellow!” exclaimed Hugh. “I assure you I have no intention of letting you out. I am afraid this is the end of the road for you, Akira. Your daughter tells me your customers are few these days, but that the trapdoor is sufficiently thick to muffle any cries for help anyway. She tells me you left her there on several occasions.”

“That was years ago!” protested Akira. “And I’m an old man now! Please let me go …”

“Shall I kill them?” asked Adam, stepping forward eagerly.

Hugh shook his head. “Down in the cellar is better—no mess to clear up, you see.” He looked around him in disgust. “Not that it would make much difference here.”

“Think about what you are doing, Hugh!” said Geoffrey, desperately. “If you fail, you will die as a traitor.”

“Believe me, Geoffrey,” said Hugh, “I have thought about little else since this notion came into my head about three months ago. The Advocate must die. You are either with us, or against us, and you have made your position abundantly clear. We have been friends, and I do not want to watch you die. Now, jump down the hole, if you please.”