The Relic Murders (17 page)

We thought Henley was staying for the evening and that's all I know.'

'Where's the beeswax candle now?' Benjamin asked.

The landlord sighed, hurried off and came back with it.

'Where did you find this?' Benjamin asked, taking the candle and scrutinising it carefully. 'It's hardly been used.'

‘I
know that,' the landlord replied. 'It was just left lying on the table and that,' he added flatly, 'is all I do know. I have a tavern to run.' He gestured down. 'What about the corpse?'

'Do you have a wheelbarrow?' Kempe asked.

'Yes.'

'Pay the archer a penny,' Kempe declared. 'Some of the profits you stole from Henley's purse. Have the body taken to Greyfriars. The good brothers will bury his corpse in a pauper's grave.'

Chapter 8

We went downstairs into the street. Kempe muttered about continuing his searches for Hubert Berkeley, and Benjamin grasped him by the arm.

'Where did Henley live? You must know,' he added, 'if you were keeping a watch on his ilk?'

'Nearby.' Kempe withdrew his arm. 'That's right, in Old Jewry. Skinner's Lane, opposite the hospital of St Thomas of Acorn. Why?' Kempe's eyes slid to me. 'Are you thinking of augmenting your relic collection? And what was all that business about the candle?'

Benjamin shook his head. 'I was just intrigued.'

'And so will the King be,' Kempe added, hitching his fur robe round his shoulders.

His eyes strayed over my shoulder. I glanced round and saw two well-armed bullyboys standing in the mouth of the alleyway. Men like Kempe didn't go anywhere unless they were protected.

'I really must be going,' he insisted. 'It is important that we find Berkeley.' He prodded me in the chest. 'But meanwhile, what about this business of Lord Charon?'

'We also need to take counsel with His Eminence,' Agrippa said, coming out of the tavern. He smiled apologetically and wiped his lips on the back of his glove. 'They say a good ale is
strong and clear. I, too, Master Daunbey, was thinking about candles. But, as Sir Thomas says, Berkeley has to be found and counsel has to be taken.' He winked at both of us. 'The court has moved to Sheen. I shall go there. Sir Thomas has Berkeley to find. Where were you when Charon,' he added, turning to me, 'first met you?'

'At the Flickering Lamp tavern,' I replied.

'Go back there,' Agrippa ordered. 'Sir Thomas and I will meet you later on.'

Agrippa collected his horse from the stable and nonchalantly rode off. Kempe followed a short while later.

'Why
were
you interested in the candle?' I asked, watching Kempe's bullyboys stride off.

'Collect our horses and I'll tell you.'

Benjamin rode close beside me, as if he sensed we were being followed or watched.

'Describe the Orb to me. I know I have seen it but just describe it to me.'

And so I did. Benjamin paused, absentmindedly stroking his horse's muzzle, unaware of the chaos and confusion he was causing in the narrow streets behind him.

'It's the amethyst,' he declared.

‘I
beg your pardon, master?'

'Look around, Roger,' he murmured, stooping to check his saddle as if there was something wrong. 'Is that dog-faced man still following us?'

I glanced around but could see no sign of him.

'He'll be there,' Benjamin declared, urging his horse on. 'Anyway, Roger, I have a deep suspicion that the Orb taken from Malevel Manor was not the genuine one.'

'But Egremont checked it!' I exclaimed. 'And Kempe told us the real Orb contained a secret: surely Egremont would have known this.'

'Roger,' Benjamin laughed. 'Gold and silver are easy to replicate and you can collect precious stones to match. However, I wager a jug of wine against a jug of wine that the amethyst on the top of the Orb is special: that's why Henley asked for a beeswax candle. The light from a tallow candle is not pure, the wick gives off a great deal of smoke and it splutters. The flame on a beeswax candle provides pure light. I suspect Henley was one of the few people who could recognise the true Orb of Charlemagne. The person who stole it from Malevel Manor took it to Henley for our relic-seller to inspect. He did so, realised it was a forgery and burst out laughing.'

'For which he promptly had his throat cut,' I added.

'Oh yes, our assassin will be angry.' Benjamin paused. 'We really must check where Kempe, Egremont and Cornelius were yesterday evening.'

'Not to forget Lord Charon?'

'Yes,' Benjamin agreed. 'Our assassin was not only angry, he had to keep Henley's mouth shut. The relic-seller was a fool. He was dead as soon as he entered that tavern garret.'

'And you think something in Henley's house will reveal the secret?' I asked.

'Possibly,' Benjamin replied.

We reached Old Jewry and made our way to the hospital of St Thomas Acorn. A beggar who sat squatting on the steps, scratching his sores, pointed across to a narrow, mean house wedged between two shops.

'That's where Henley lives,' the fellow croaked. 'We all know what he does. Often comes out to sell his trickery to pilgrims.'

We left our horses in a nearb
y tavern, paid an ostler a coin, w
alked across and knocked at the door. It was locked but what are keys and bolts to a man like Shallot? I soon had the door open. Inside the house was dark, rather eerie, full of strange smells. The front parlour was all shuttered, cobwebs hung on the walls and dusty sheets covered the furniture. The kitchen and buttery were stale and ill washed. In a room at the back of the house we found Henley's workshop. Here the smell was so offensive we had to open the shutters. Benjamin looked at the pot suspended on an iron rod over the white ash in the hearth. He took his dagger out and fished amongst the contents. I gagged at the mess of cats' heads, birds and other small animals boiled in there. The stench was so bad I drew back and retched. Benjamin remained impervious and went around scrutinising the different items on tables and shelves.

'A cunning man,' he breathed. 'He could have taught you a trick or two, Roger. Relics are always bones, pieces of cloth, wood or leather.' He picked up a small silver gilt case. 'Henley must have made a prosperous living out of it. He'd take a bit of cat bone, boil it, clean it, place it in a silver-gilt case and there was part of the finger bone of St Amisias, or whoever you want.'

My master must have caught the look in my eye.

'No, Roger, there'll be no more relics at our manor.' He waved a finger at me. 'Relics are forbidden.'

He went across and looked at a shelf which contained some ledgers. He took them down and glanced through them: they were accounts, showing monies owing or salted away with the bankers.

'The King will be pleased,' he murmured. 'I am sure Agrippa will tell him about Henley's death and the Lords of the Treasury will soon have their fingers on all this.'

A leather-bound folio was more interesting. It was an index drawn up by a Dutch scholar, published and printed in Bruges, which listed the principal relics of Western Christendom. Benjamin found the entry for the Orb of Charlemagne. There was a crude drawing above it which I recognised as the relic. The writing was more accurate: in the main it faithfully described the Orb; how it had been owned by the great Emperor and sent to Alfred of England and how the English kings had kept it in the most secret place. However, when it came to a detailed description of the amethyst the writer was silent. Instead Henley had scrawled in the margin:
'Per ig. Cruc. lxthus vid,
'What is that?' I asked.

My master, who was skilled in secret ciphers, studied it. 'A mixture of Latin and Greek,' he replied. 'Ixthus is the Greek title for Jesus Our Saviour.' 'And the rest?'

'Bearing in mind Henley's request for a candle, I'd say that
per ig
means
per ignem,
through fire.
Cruc
is Latin for cross:
vid
means
Videtur,
can be seen.' Benjamin closed the book. 'That's why Henley wanted the beeswax candle. Hold the Orb up, place the amethyst against a brilliant flame and, somehow or other, a cross can be seen in the centre of the stone.'

'Can that be done?' I asked.

'Not artificially,' Benjamin replied. 'What I suspect is that, when the Orb was made for Charlemagne, this amethyst was particularly chosen because the goldsmith at the time thought it was of a sacred character. That amethyst,' Benjamin continued, 'is probably the only way of ensuring the Orb is genuine.'

'But that's impossible, master. If Henley knew this, then surely the Emperor Charles V, not to mention his envoys Lord Egremont and Cornelius, would also have known?'

Benjamin sat down on a stool.

⁴
When the Orb was placed in that sealed casket in Berkeley's house,' I insisted, 'Egremont must have demanded that a light be held against the amethyst. He would then know that he was being tricked.'

Benjamin rocked himself backwards and forwards, eyes closed. 'Did they know?' he asked.

'Oh come on, master. If a tawdry counterfeit-man like Henley knew, then surely Charles V's ambassadors would?'

'The only person who could answer that,' Benjamin replied, 'is Henley himself and he's now a member of the choir invisible. I suspect that Henley was not just a tawdry counterfeit man but an expert on relics. Somehow he found out the real secret and wrote it in the margin of this book.' He sighed. 'Yet, in the end, Henley didn't make the replica, Berkeley did. Is our goldsmith the villain of the piece?'

'No,' I retorted. 'Berkeley acted on the orders of the King.' I paused. 'And that's where the real mystery begins, doesn't it? If Berkeley put a replica in that chest, he must have done so on the orders of the King. If he did, why is Henry now raging? And I don't believe that he's playing one of his little games.'

'It's possible,' Benjamin replied slowly, 'that Berkeley acted on his own: that he intended to dupe both Henry and Charles V. That the Orb is still hidden away in his shop or wherever Berkeley wanted to conceal it. Our goldsmith therefore might have fled, taking the Orb with him.'

I recalled Berkeley's honest face. He would carry out the orders of his king in order to dupe a foreign envoy. But steal the Orb and flee?

'No, master,' I voiced my doubts. 'If Berkeley was ordered to make a replica, he would do so but I doubt he would steal the genuine article. However, that doesn't solve the real mystery. If the amethyst was special why didn't Egremont notice it was flawed?'

Benjamin opened the book and studied the inscription again.

'The cross of the Saviour can be seen,' he read aloud. He placed the book back on the shelf. 'Come on, Roger, I want to talk to someone.'

We left Henley's house, collected our horses and walked through the crowds back to Cheapside. It was just after noon: the Angelus bell from St Mary Le Bow was tolling, calling the faithful to prayer. Most people ignored it, more intent on thronging the cookshops and taverns. Benjamin was growing enigmatic. He strode along the broad thoroughfare ignoring my questions.

'In a while, in a while, Roger,' he murmured.

Near the Great Conduit, he gave a cry of exclamation and pointed to a goldsmith's sign.

'Pasteler!' he exclaimed. 'John Pasteler!'

We walked across. Benjamin gave an urchin a penny to hold our horses. I followed him into the goldsmith's shop. Pasteler in many ways reminded me of Berkeley: an honest, well-to-do merchant busy amongst his apprentices and journeymen. The shelves and tables around the shop were littered with precious objects: cups, bracelets, brooches, ewers and bowls. Pasteler was surprised to see Benjamin but gave us a smile and a warm handshake.

'You have not come to buy, have you, Master Daunbey?' His smile faded. 'I am sorry,' he muttered. 'I forgot, Johanna became ill.'

This was a reference to Benjamin's betrothed who had lost her wits and been cloistered in a convent.

'The years hurry on,' Benjamin replied. 'No more wedding bands but, John, you have a collection of precious stones?'

'In my strongbox yes, rubies, emeralds ...' 'Do you have any amethysts?'

Pasteler went away and came back with a small metal-bound coffer fastened with three locks. He opened these carefully. I caught my breath: there must have been five or six amethysts lying on a satin cushion. Some of them were the size of small eggs, though none was as grand as the one I had seen on the so-called Orb of Charlemagne.