Falconer's Trial (21 page)

‘Yes. Robert Bodin, the spicer. And Mistress Le Veske is certain that his death is linked to Ann Segrim’s somehow.’

Symon detected the cool tone in Bullock’s voice when he spoke Saphira’s name. Surely the constable did not still think that she was responsible for Ann Segrim’s death?

‘And you? Do you think it is?’

Bullock gave a deep sigh and kicked his feet in the river, creating ripples. Both men watched as they swelled out from the bank and disappeared in the general maelstrom of the rushing waters.

‘I was trying to think like Falconer. And I can hear his voice as clear as if he was standing here. He would say there was no coincidence in death. And it is true what she said. The death of a dealer in poisons as well as herbs and spices, killed so soon after someone was herself poisoned, demands an answer. But what if Mistress le Veske was deliberately leading me in that direction to move suspicion away from herself? What then? God’s breath, I need William’s advice now.’

Thomas knew he was a poor second best to Falconer, but felt he had to aid the constable as best he could.

‘William would tell you to use every resource you had, and collect as many facts as possible until they begin to make sense.’

Bullock groaned and began drying his wet feet on the long grass.

‘I feel as though I am drowning in facts. There’s Chancellor Bek who is convinced that Falconer is the killer, and points to the pot he had with him when Ann died. And his switch of allegiance from Ann to Saphira Le Veske. He blames Falconer’s grosser feelings. The half-brother, Eddington, looks in that direction too. Though I have my suspicions that he was jealous of the attention his sister-in-law paid to Falconer. I would not be surprised to discover he attempted a seduction of Ann Segrim himself. And then we have Sir Humphrey’s testimony of a murderous plot to kill the entire royal family, implicating the Templar, Odo de Reppes. And he killed Ann because her husband had spilled the beans about the plot. Why he has not yet killed Sir Humphrey, I don’t know. Mistress Le Veske, however, would have us believe that some Jewish talisman seller killed her to get back at Falconer for some perceived slight last year. If she didn’t kill Ann herself out of envy. Have I missed anyone out?’

Thomas could not suppress a laugh at Bullock’s exasperated listing of the possible murderers. Nor could he resist adding to the list, just to see the constable’s face.

‘Well, I could add one man more. I did think Master Ralph Cornish might have borne witness against Falconer for a greater reason than mere vindictiveness. If he had killed Ann, then accusing Falconer would throw us off the scent. But then, why would he kill Ann in the first place? And I learned he could not have been at Botley at the time of the poisoning, or have had an opportunity to doctor any of Ann’s food. So we can remove him from the list, you will be pleased to hear.’

‘Thank God.’

‘What we now need to consider is, if Bodin’s murder is connected, are there any signs that would point to any one of our suspects? If the poison that killed Ann was obtained from Bodin, then presumably the spicer was killed to ensure his silence. Was anyone seen entering his shop before he was killed?’

Bullock sighed in exasperation.

‘Of course people were seen entering his shop. He sold expensive but popular spices and herbs. Half of the servants of the rich merchants in Oxford were seen entering his shop at some time.’

He had his boots back on now and began to walk along the river bank past the Blackfriars’ house. Thomas followed him.

‘When was he killed?’

‘In the dead of night, so no one would have seen the killer entering or leaving. In fact, the front door was still locked in the morning. Whoever killed him must have broken in the back of the building.’

It irked Bullock that he had not even established this at the scene of the crime. He had not thought of it till now. He would have to go back and investigate further. He wondered if he was he getting too old for this game. At his heels, the black-clad Thomas persisted with his enquiry, ignoring Bullock’s bad temper.

‘Then maybe the killer spoke to Bodin yesterday some time, and Bodin said something that gave him reason to think the spicer was about to reveal the truth.’

‘Hmmm. Saphira did say she thought Bodin had seemed nervous when she last spoke to him. And I will tell you something else…’ He stopped and faced the intense young man by his side. He would show this scholar he could put facts together. ‘The wife saw a man in the shop who her husband didn’t want her to see. And he was dressed in brown, like a Templar sergeant.’

‘Then we must follow this up. Can you get to speak to the sergeant? In the meantime, I will try and talk again to Segrim, or his half-brother. Perhaps the Templar has been spotted lurking around Botley. He must still be intent on killing Sir Humphrey if his plan is to suppress any knowledge of the conspiracy.’

Bullock shook the young man’s hand firmly, pleased that he was taken heed of. He was so used to Falconer tossing his ideas aside, that it was heartening to be taken seriously by a scholar for once. Even if it was only young and impressionable Thomas Symon.

The flagstone rocked under Saphira’s feet as she crossed the kitchen, and Rebekkah cried out a warning.

‘Take care, mistress. I nearly tripped over that on Friday. Nearly measured my whole length across the floor.’

Saphira recalled how the magical appearance of Samson from under the slab resulted in her salvation yesterday. She was not surprised it was not seated properly now. But her maidservant had just said it had been loose the day before Saphira’s rescue. She stood and rocked backwards and forwards on the secret trapdoor thoughtfully. Rebekkah continued to prattle on as she finished preparing dinner on the newly repaired table. Harold Pennyverthing had done a good job, and had shamefacedly promised to come back the following day and finish the work on her front door. For now the bolt and frame were fixed temporarily. Saphira tipped the slab once more with her foot.

‘It’s very odd, Rebekkah, but I don’t recall this flagstone rocking before. How long has it been like this?’

‘Oh, a good few days, mistress.’ She laughed. ‘If it wasn’t a foolish idea, I would blame those rats for it. They started eating your food from the larder about the same time.’

Saphira smiled and tapped her foot on the flagstone.

‘When you have served my dinner, Rebekkah, you can go home. I won’t need you any more today.’

Rebekkah smiled broadly. Mistress Le Veske was a most generous employer. And she was hoping to meet her boyfriend in the afternoon without her parents knowing. She prepared and served the repast with great alacrity. Saphira, for her part, was glad for her maid’s speed. She had an idea concerning the access to the tunnel and what might lie within. After the dishes had been cleared away, and Rebekkah had slammed the front door behind her, Saphira poked around the kitchen until she found a sturdy iron trivet with a long handle. It was perfect for inserting in the inconspicuous slot at one end of the flagstone. She levered the stone up and pushed it to one side. Cool air rushed up into the kitchen from the underground tunnels and cellars below. She lifted her skirts and slowly descended the steps which she had almost slid down on the previous occasion. She held a candle in her hand to light the area below. The flame guttered a few times as draughts from other parts of the tunnel blew through. Once more, she admired the neat ashlar stonework of the walls and curved arches. She retraced her steps from the previous occasion as far as she remembered them, until she came to the intersection of tunnels. She knew that, if she turned right, she would come out where she had before, in Samson’s cellar. So turning left should bring her out higher up Fish Street, under Rabbi Jacob’s house. She recalled that Samson had told her there was a
mikveh
under his house. And if she was right in her supposition, she would find what she was looking for near running water. She turned to her left.

Bullock took the right fork just outside Oxford and rode towards Temple Cowley again. He was not sure what he would be asking Gilles Bergier, but he knew he couldn’t expect the sergeant to admit to murder. Or betray his master, Odo de Reppes. He would have to rely on that sense of comradeship that permeated the squires and sergeants in the lower ranks. And the Templar knights’ feeling of superiority that sometimes set them apart from the rank and file. It was Saturday and the Rule decreed that on that day the knights benefited from three meals of vegetables, where the squires and sergeants got one alone. It had always annoyed him as a sergeant, and he was sure the mood persisted even now. So, instead of announcing himself to the commander – Laurence de Bernere – this time Bullock just aimed his old nag towards the dormitory where the sergeants bunked. It was late afternoon and their masters would have dined, and would now be in the Temple to hear the divine offices. The sergeants would be making the most of the time off, and shooting the breeze with each other.

He was in luck. Wandering round behind the dormitory, he found a bunch of sergeants rolling the dice on the dusty ground. Gilles Bergier was one of them. He squatted down awkwardly, his stiff old legs protesting at the abuse. A couple of the sergeants gave him a sidelong glance, but then went back to their gambling. Bullock observed for a while, and noted that Bergier was on a roll and winning the small coins that were being wagered. The knights may have taken a vow of poverty but their sergeants surely hadn’t. Eventually, Bergier scooped up his winnings and, amidst protests from those who he had taken money from, rose and walked away. Bullock followed him down to the fish ponds that helped support the commandery. Bergier stopped and stood looking over the flat and murky waters.

‘You wanted to talk to me.’

Bullock realized any subterfuge he had planned was pointless.

‘Yes. It’s concerning Odo de Reppes. I have heard stories about his journey to Outremer, and extraordinary events that seem to dog his heels.’

‘And you are wondering if they are true. Well, you know the words of the Rule as well as I do. “Do not accuse or malign the people of God.”’

Bullock realized that word had got around he was an old soldier, and former sergeant of the Order of Poor Knights. Well, he could quote the ancient Rule laid down by their founder, Hugues de Payens, too.

‘It also says, “Remove the wicked from among you.”’

‘Hmmm. I still cannot help you. You see, I have only been appointed his sergeant since he came through France. A matter of a few weeks ago.’

Bullock felt disappointed. Perhaps this man could not help him nail down the truth of the conspiracy tale after all. Though it was still possible that he had acted for de Reppes in the murder of Robert Bodin. He had to try and winkle the truth out.

‘Then you were with him in Berkhamsted when Richard of Germany died.’

Bergier turned and stared hard at him. He looked as though he was assessing the old man who stood before him. Whether he could trust him, and whether he was someone who could keep a secret. Bullock held his right hand behind his back and crossed his fingers. The sergeant took a deep breath and continued.

‘Yes. The old man. He was suffering from the half-dead disease. His face all pulled down at one side, and dribbling from the side of his mouth. If that had been me, I would have wanted to die. He was hanging on to a life not worth living, so maybe it was a mercy he died when Odo was there.’

Bergier’s slow and deliberate delivery told Bullock all he needed to know about what had happened in Berkhamsted. But it did not help him with either Ann’s or Bodin’s death. He risked another question, as the man had been as cooperative as he could be so far.

‘And Odo, has he got any reason to be in Oxford? Has he asked you to aid him with anything in the town?’

Bergier’s eyes narrowed.

‘Like what?’

‘A matter concerning a local knight of Botley, and his wife who is now dead.’

‘Botley?’ The sergeant looked puzzled. ‘No, if that is what you are seeking to sort out, you have the wrong man. Odo de Reppes is here on family business in Oxford, and that is all I can say. We went nowhere near Botley.’

Bergier turned and walked back to his comrades, leaving Bullock as puzzled as before.

TWENTY

T
he cool air led Saphira to the ritual bath. At the northern end of the tunnel under Jewry stood a vaulted chamber with a flight of stone steps leading down into a cistern. Cool, clear water filled the cistern to halfway up the steps. Her candlelight reflected off the smooth surface of the water as off a mirror. She paused and listened, but could hear nothing save the steady drip of water somewhere. She turned, and heard a faint scrabbling sound. Perhaps it was just rats, and she was wrong. But she didn’t think so. In the compacted earth at her feet she saw something odd. Bending down she picked up a small stone, which might have otherwise gone unnoticed. But this one had a hole carved in it where a cord might be threaded, and a Hebrew letter painted on its surface. She called out in a hushed tone, which echoed back to her.

‘Covele, where are you?’

Silence. She tossed the talisman in the air and caught it.

‘Boy, I know you and your father are there.’

The scrabbling began again, and Covele appeared from round one of the pillars at the end of the chamber, his boy shielded protectively by one arm. They stood a little way off from her, cautiously assessing her.

‘What do you want? We are doing no harm.’

‘None, I am sure. Except for robbing my food store.’

‘Would you begrudge your own kind sustenance?’

‘Not at all. If you had asked for it. But you sneaked up out of the earth and took it like… rats.’

Covele sneered at the insult and stood his ground. It was the boy who eventually broke the deadlock. He walked up to Saphira and spoke.

‘Will you feed us, please? I am hungry and tired of hiding down here.’

In the kitchen, as the boy was tucking into the remains of the fish cooked by Rebekkah for her, Saphira began to question Covele. At first he sat defiantly straight with his brown robe pulled around him, a satchel full of talismans and amulets at his feet. He refused the food offered by Saphira and evaded her questions. But then the boy pushed a piece of bread towards him which was soaked in fish oil. He gave his son a fleeting smile and took the offering.