Blood Moon (10 page)

‘B-but you do have something I require,’ I stuttered trotting to keep up with her. ‘Information.’

She snorted without slackening her pace. ‘That’s a new word for it.’

‘For which I am happy to pay.’

She looked me up and down sceptically. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Go on, Netta,’ yelled a passing young man. ‘Charge
the monk double. The old hypocrite!’

She looked me up and down again. ‘How much?’

I fumbled in my belt pouch and held out a coin.

She remembered Raoul all right. Last night was the second time he’d been in. It seems he’d taken a particular fancy to her among all the whores and sought her out. The first time had been fine but last night he made a bit of a nuisance of himself.

‘Anyway, you were there,’ she said. ‘I remember you and that cripple. You must have seen him.’

‘Indeed,’ I replied, ‘but last night, wasn’t there some kind of a…
disagreement?’

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Oh, so that’s what this is about, is it? You tell him he pays for the hour. If he can’t get it up that’s his problem.’

‘No no,’ I said frowning at her candour. ‘That’s not why I’m here. I just want to hear from you that he was in the tavern for most of the evening.’

She regarded me with curiosity.
‘Not till he pays.’

I fumbled in my pouch again and took out another coin.

‘Why’d you want to know?’

It seems Raoul was there all right, all evening. Netta hadn’t been able to shift him, he was too big. He just slept on the edge of her bed like a baby.

‘While you … entertained … other gentlemen?’

She shrugged. ‘He didn’t notice and they didn’t care.’ She smiled slyly. ‘Like to hear that sort of thing, do you?’

I could feel my face glowing bright red.  ‘No, I er… Thank you. Thank you very much.’ I fumbled in my robes and brought out another penny.

She stared at the lonely scrap of silver lying in the palm of her hand. I fumbled again and gave her another penny then shrugged to indicate it was all I had
left. With a snort of contempt she snapped her hand shut and turned up the road again, muttering.

Well, I thought as I watched her go, at least she confirmed what I had hoped, that Raoul was in the tavern before the curfew bell was rung. Not that Netta or anyone else would likely testify to the fact. I doubted whether anyone could be found who would admit to being in the tavern last night - I certainly wouldn’t. But what I found baffling was why a personable young man like Raoul de Gray with a beautiful young wife and a family reputation to uphold would feel the need to seek out such as Netta – delightful and charming as I was sure she was
…in the right environment. Raoul’s behaviour was mystifying. I sighed. Not for the first time I found the human condition perplexing.

Now that Netta had gone, the vagabond she called Hervey started up again: ‘If your right eye causes you to sin, brother, tear it out! If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off!’

I squatted down next to him in the dust. ‘And is that what happened to you, my friend?’ I asked him indicating his bandaged arm.

His companion who was squatted next to
him sniggered and I had to breathe shallowly for the odour of his breath was so foul that I would have coughed to breathe normally. From Hervey’s vacant eyes I could see the poor man was not fully sensible, though clearly he must have had had some learning from all the quoting he was doing from scripture. I wondered how and where he came by it. I wasn’t at all sure I was going to learn the source from his lips which were never still but conveyed little sense. I could only lament the distance he must have fallen to have arrived now in his shredded rags and stinking like a bale of rotting fish. Whatever was going on behind those mobile eyes and was struggling so painfully to get out I was never going to learn.

I could see now that he wasn’t a leper after all but his injury was recently inflicted for there was freshly-dried blood on his rags. I gently eased the bandage off and grimaced at what I found beneath: A stump where the hand had once been now blackened with pitch to stop the bleeding - perhaps by his rheumy friend. I felt my stomach leap. Another lost hand. There seemed to be an epidemic of
lost hands. The skin around the stump of this one looked red and angry and I did not want to touch it for fear of causing man even more discomfort, but I had no doubt from the smell and colour of it that the fire that was growing in it would soon spread to the heart. There was nothing I could do for him except pray that his parting this life should be quick and, if God is compassionate, insensible.

I gently replaced the bandage and addressed his companion. ‘Who did this to him? Do you know?’

But Hervey just sniggered. I felt once again deeply inside my pouch and found one last penny and held it up to tempt them.

‘Now, what can you tell me about last night?’

It took a while but eventually I got the tale. The two of them had been outside the tavern when Raoul was being ejected as I suspected they might. In the struggle Raoul’s cap had fallen. Hervey had quickly picked it up and scuttled off with it. Rarely did anything as valuable as a cap ever come his way. But he did not keep it for long. Into the blackness of a nearby alley someone had followed him. There was a brief struggle which was only going to end one way. The stranger could not prise the cap from Hervey’s hand so determined was he to keep it, so with the flash of a knife he took both cap and hand. That, doubtless, was what I had seen in the pig’s mouth this morning in the marketplace. Whoever the stranger was he had been as determined to have Raoul’s cap as Hervey had been to hang on to it, and I’m afraid the price for Hervey was going to be his short and troubled life.

And then he said something that made no sense at all – or rather, it made more sense than most of what he said, but still it lacked reason. When I asked him again who had done this terrible thing to him he repeated what his friend said that it was an angel, but then added something else. I was so shocked that I wasn’t sure I’d heard right and asked him to repeat it again.

‘An angel, brother, a beautiful white angel.’

Chapter
11

OF
DEVILS AND ANGELS

An
angel had cut off Hervey’s hand? A devil more like. Normally I’d dismiss such nonsense as the ravings of a confused mind, but Hervey’s injury was real enough as was the severed hand that I’d seen grasping Raoul’s cap – I still shuddered at the memory of it. Was it Hervey’s hand? If so how did it get to be next to Effie’s body? Was this the real murderer? I was unable to get any more sense out of Hervey or his odorous companion, and from the increasingly threatening looks I’d been getting from the locals it was clear I had outstayed my welcome; it seemed the presence of a monk was not conducive to good business in that part of town. What was clear was that whoever was doing this was trying to implicate Raoul in Effie’s murder - and no heavenly angel but someone much closer to earth. I had my own suspicions who that someone might be.

Netta’s account of Raoul’s behaviour also cast doubt on his supposed drunkenness for if the ale he drank was anything like the wate
red-down stuff Onethumb and I had been served then he would have had to consume an enormous quantity to have passed out on her bed and again later on my floor. That suggested one thing to me: He had been drugged, and once again the purpose seemed to be to incapacitate the boy so that he could not account for his movements at the time of the murder. It was sheer good fortune that Onethumb and I happened to be on hand to vouch for him.

So Raoul was not Effie’s murderer
. Then who was? And why? What possible threat could a young maid, a child, pose that called for the ultimate sacrifice? Perhaps the simplest, the most obvious answer was the right one: That Effie had been ravaged against her will and her death was the necessary price of her silence; she would not be the first young girl to suffer that fate. But that wouldn’t account for her troubled state of mind that had been so evident in the chamber and on the stairwell. That message she mouthed to me -
Ee-ma-mum-ma
- she desperately wanted me to know and was apparently so important that she risked a beating in order to tell me. It was the key to everything yet it remained as much a riddle as ever it did. I wondered now that she was gone if I should never know the answer.

Returning to the abbey I went straight to the lavatorium to wash away the taint of my morning’s plunge beneath the murkier waters of Bury life. As I finished drying my face and hands I noticed Eusebius reading on the opposite side of the cloister garth and remembered I was supposed to be his mentor. According to the prior he had asked for me specifically. I wasn’t entirely sure I believed that. More likely Herbert suggested my name and Eusebius went along with it. Still, I had an obligation to give him my time having been promised. It wasn’t his fault he was a pawn in one of Herbert’s silly games.

So engrossed was the boy in his book that he didn’t notice my approach.

‘Good day to you, my son – no, don’t get up.’ I patted his bony shoulder. ‘What’s this you’re reading?’ I took the book from him. ‘William of Saint Thierry. Dry stuff indeed - but commendable reading.’

He blushed as I handed him back the weighty tome. ‘I got it out of the abbey library. I like to read. I find much comfort in the wisdom of others. Saint Hugh of
Lincoln said that books are food for the soul.’

‘A wise and holy man
, Hugh. And Brother William too. What has he taught you?’ I said sitting next to him.

‘That when we go to bed at night we should take with us thoughts that will help us to fall asleep peacefully.’

‘He should know. Personally I have always found his writings a most useful inducement to sleep.’

Eusebius
squinted at me. ‘Are you mocking me again, master?’

‘Not at all
. But I do hope you are getting enough sleep yourself. You are looking a little drawn. Try not to read too late into the night.’

‘Saint Bernard of Clairvaux thought sleep a waste of time.’

‘Yes, but he suffered from headaches - also from colic, as I recall. Which reminds me, how are you finding your new diet? Any more nosebleeds?’

He frowned. ‘No, master. I’m fine now.’

‘Good. But I think we’ll leave you on it for a few more days yet, see how things go. And if you are having trouble sleeping then don’t suffer in silence. There are potions I can give you.’

‘It is true sometimes my thoughts will not quieten at night,’ he admitted. ‘I find it helps to meditate on the Holy Mother.
Do you not agree, master?’ He looked up reverentially at what I saw now was a statue of the Virgin on the pillar above our heads.

‘Ah yes, the Queen of
Heaven has charms to soothe many a troubled mind.’ I smiled up at the pink plaster face.

Eusebius gazed adoringly at the statue. ‘Saint Bernard himself was a great devotee. You know the legend of him receiving the Virgin’s milk as a sign of Her great love for him?’

‘Indeed - expressed direct from nipple to lip,’ I chuckled. ‘The Holy Mother must have been a good shot.’

He frowned and turned sharply from me. ‘You really shouldn’t be so flippant about these things, master.’

His sudden outburst startled me a little. I kept forgetting just how deeply Euphorics felt their faith.

‘You are right
,’ I nodded. ‘I am well rebuked. I will try to remember in future. Well, if there’s nothing else I can help you with right now, I’ll get on.’

I got up to leave, but the boy put his hand on my arm. ‘Master, will you pray with me?’

I looked about us along the cloister arms. On every side were many of my brother monks all engaged silently in their daily duties of copying, reading, darning, painting. ‘What, now? Here?’

He nodded. ‘Saint Bernard’s own prayer to the Virgin - the
Memorare
?’

‘Will we not disturb our brothers at their work?’ I said hopefully.

Eusebius seemed unconcerned. ‘
Please
, master. It will take but a minute.’

I looked at his imploring face. It reminded me that I have had similar moments - yes, even I - when the need for prayer becomes urgent, although in my case it has usually occurred when I have been alone or in church and not in a crowded cloister range. But it was part of my function as his chaplain to indulge the boy in his spiritual needs whenever the moment arose, however inconvenient the timing.

‘Oh very well,’ I agreed with reluctance. ‘But quietly - we don’t wish to disturb our brothers’

We went down on our knees before the statue and I composed my
mind for prayer. Eusebius shut his eyes but instead of putting his own hands together he took hold of mine and held it tight to his breast as he began to recite:

‘Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence I fly to thee, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother. To thee do I come. Before thee I stand sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate despise not my petitions but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen.’

‘Amen,’ I echoed, and started to rise, but he pulled me sharply back down again. He then he held out his free hand aloft and began intoning again but this time in a much louder voice and more urgently:

‘Hear us, oh Heavenly Mother. Oh Blessed Virgin Mary, we offer you our hearts, our lives, our souls. Thou who art the purest temple of the most Holy Trinity, intercede we beg you that we may repent of our sins. Handmaiden and mother, only
bridge of Christto men, the awful loom of the Incarnatio
n.
Oh Queen of heaven, full of grace, Holy Virgin Immaculate, grant us thy injunction we beseech you!’

Tears were now rolling down his cheeks as he almost sobbed with the intensity of his emotion. All my brother monks had stopped what they were doing to stare, some with astonishment, some with embarrassment, others with amusement. One or two actually got down on their knees and prayed with us. Watching us, too, was Prior Herbert standing in the open door of the church with a bemused curl to his lip.
Well, at least he could not accuse me of avoiding my responsibilities. As for myself, I could feel my cheeks burning like beacons as I at last managed to extricate my hand, stagger to my feet and stumble away.

Damn the boy! And damn Herbert for foisting him on me! Euphoric he may be but I didn’t have time to indulge his fits of ecstasy just now. At any moment Raoul de Gray could be carted off to Norfolk where he would be out of my reach for ever. If I was to help him I needed to act quickly and not be diverted by other matters.

When I got back to my laboratorium I found Dominic waiting for me and looking very nervous.

‘What’s the matter? What’s happened now?’ I asked him irritably.

‘Master, I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

‘Didn’t know? Didn’t know what? Dominic is this another waste of my time? What is it?’

Then I saw the lad’s face, filled
with fear and apprehension and realised I was being quite unreasonable. What just happened just now in the cloister was hardly his fault.

‘
It’s all right, my son,’ I said more gently. ‘Just tell me what’s happened - but slowly, I beg you.’

‘I have been quizzed, master. By Prior Herbert.’

I should have guessed this would happen. ‘About our guest last night?’

‘Yes, master. He wanted me to confirm that Raoul was here…’ he looked at me shyly ‘…and that you were not.’

‘And you confirmed it.’

The boy was practically in tears. ‘I couldn’t see anything wrong with admitting it. We’d done nothing wrong, had we master? And he put me under oath so I was compelled to speak truthfully. I should have realised when he did that that there was more to his questions. It was only afterwards when I thought about it that I realised you would have told him you were here all night which you would have done to save me. Instead I’ve betrayed you. I’m sorry
, master.’ He went down on one knee before me.

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about, Dominic,’ I said raising him up again. ‘
You did right by telling the truth.’

‘But will it not harbour uncertainties for you, master?’

Harbour uncertainties for me? Oh yes, undoubtedly it would do that. Herbert already thought I was concealing things from him; this will simply confirm it. But it wasn’t fair to involve Dominic in these games.

I smiled at him. ‘Dry your tears, my son. You’ve nothing to reproach yourself
for.’

His face puckered into an angry snarl. ‘Sometimes I hate myself for my timidity!’

I had to chuckle at that. ‘You are a beacon in a dark world, my son. Thank God for your honesty - and for your timidity. Would there were more like you. Now off you go and think no more about it. All you have done is drawn a little line in the sand. A battle line. From now on Prior Herbert and I will know on which side each of us stands.’

When Dominic had gone I got down to the business I had intended doing before I was distracted by Eusebius.

Normally any waste from my laboratorium gets removed promptly by the abbey servants but there are some days when they are lax in their duties and,
God be praised, this was one of them. The bucket containing Raoul’s vomit which I had mopped up from my floor was still outside the door. I quickly heated some of the filth in a bowl with a little water and force-fed the resulting soup to one of my laboratory rats. Within minutes the animal’s breathing had become laboured and shortly after that it was dead confirming that Raoul had indeed been drugged. And then I remembered something else. That’s what must have happened to the cat that Dominic discovered in the bushes the night we brought Raoul back. I was guessing Raoul must have been sick there too and the cat ate it and died. That didn’t surprise me for even as the mess was warming I could smell the distinctive odour of henbane rising from the bowl. Henbane is a very potent poison and is not at all easy to get hold of. I kept a small stock of it carefully secured in a stoppered jar - a jar which I now saw had been tampered with. And from the amount that had been taken I was forced to revise my earlier assumption. Someone had drugged Raoul’s drink all right, but not just in order to deny him an alibi for the time of the murder. Enough had been taken to kill him. It was only that he’d vomited up most of it that his killer hadn’t succeeded.