The Book of Fires Read online

  ‘Well,’ she indicated that they retake their seats, ‘eat and drink. Remember what St Francis said, and this even includes Dominicans.’ She winked at Athelstan. ‘The first rule of a Christian is to be hospitable. Good, you are eating. Now, why are you here? Oh, no,’ her fat fingers flew to her chubby face, ‘of course, Lady Anne Lesures is already here.’ Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Poor Isolda Beaumont.’

  ‘She was left here as a foundling?’

  ‘Yes, Brother, we took Isolda. I was novice mistress at the time,’ she shook her head, ‘just over twenty years ago. We called her Isolda Fitzalan because she was left in the gate cradle, wrapped in a cloth boasting the arms of the Fitzalans …’

  ‘Azure and Or, a branch of oak, vert and fructed or …’

  ‘Precisely, Sir John – correct to the last detail.’

  ‘The Fitzalans.’ Athelstan glanced swiftly at Cranston. ‘Surely Thomas Fitzalan, the present Earl of Arundel, is powerful? Feared even by Gaunt?’

  ‘Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Brother.’ Mother Clare smiled. ‘The Fitzalans are legion in number. I suspect that one of their young women from a minor branch of the family became pregnant out of wedlock and decided she must give the child away.’ Mother Clare sighed and helped herself to a strip of toasted cheese. ‘The swaddling blanket is no real indication of birth, it could be used by some maid or servant to show the child was noble born.’

  ‘Why Isolda?’ Athelstan asked. ‘A rather unusual name?’

  ‘Very simple, Brother. We found a scrap of parchment pushed into a fold of the blanket on which the name Isolda was written.’

  ‘Are many such children left here?’

  ‘A few, always girls, and remember, Brother, many mothers often change their mind and return for their child.’

  ‘But not in Isolda’s case?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘What was she like?’

  Mother Clare touched her starched white wimple. ‘She was, even as a little girl, extraordinarily beautiful, graceful in all her ways.’ Mother Clare put her face to her hands then took them away. ‘God forgive me, Isolda was also avaricious, wilful, obdurate and selfish.’ The nun crossed herself swiftly. ‘There. I have said it, God forgive me but it’s the truth. Isolda was greedy for wealth and power.’

  ‘And did she get that through her marriage to Sir Walter?’

  ‘No.’ Mother Clare blew her cheeks out in a long sigh. ‘Isolda often returned here after her marriage, ostensibly to help Lady Anne and others with our novices.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Isolda always had a bitter litany of recriminations against her husband. He was wealthy, his purse bulged with coins, but the purse strings rested very firmly in his hands.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Cranston asked.

  ‘Jack, would I lie to you?’ Mother Clare blew him a mock kiss.

  ‘So,’ Cranston shook his head, ‘Isolda had little or no money for herself?’

  Mother Clare nodded in agreement.

  ‘Nicholas Falke, God bless him,’ Cranston breathed, ‘is a very experienced serjeant-at-law. He is also expensive.’

  ‘So who paid him to represent Lady Isolda?’ Athelstan asked. ‘It could have been “pro bono” or, in this case, “pro amore” – love. Falke was, and still is, much smitten with Lady Isolda.’ The friar turned to Mother Clare. ‘Do you know?’ She pulled a face and shook her head.

  ‘So in your view, the marriage was a failure?’

  ‘Brother,’ she replied, ‘after her marriage Isolda often came here. At first she acted the great lady, being feasted and feted. Time passed. She was married to Sir Walter for five years, but we noticed the change. She became deeply unhappy but, there again, I wasted little time on that. Isolda was rarely satisfied. I think she resented her husband for many reasons.’

  ‘Did Vanner ever come with her?’

  ‘Oh, yes, an obsequiously faithful shadow, a man of keen wit but few words. I suspect Isolda liked to see him dance attendance.’

  ‘And Rosamund Clifford, her maid – she too was a foundling here?’

  ‘Yes, she was.’

  ‘Rumour claims her father was Buckholt, Sir Walter’s steward?’

  ‘Rumour, Brother, can go hang itself,’ Mother Clare retorted. ‘That is nonsense. All I can tell you is that after Sir Walter married Isolda, Lady Anne Lesures secured Rosamund a place in the Beaumont household.’

  ‘And the relationship between the two women?’

  ‘Rosamund was as different from Isolda as chalk is from cheese. Pretty, very demure, very much in awe of Isolda.’ She paused, scratching her chin. ‘Indeed, both came back here. I suppose they regarded this house as the only home they truly had.’

  ‘Do you know if Isolda met anyone else in the city?’

  ‘Brother, I am immured here. I cannot say where Lady Isolda went.’

  ‘And the murder of Sir Walter came as a shock?’

  ‘God save us, Brother. It chilled our souls. At first I couldn’t believe what had happened. I thought it was a mistake. In the weeks before Sir Walter died, neither Isolda nor Rosamund came here. We only learnt what happened …’ Her voice faltered, and Athelstan leaned over and squeezed her hand.

  ‘Mother Clare,’ he said softly, ‘all we want is the truth.’ He withdrew his hand.

  ‘After Sir Walter died we had visitors enough: Lady Anne Lesures, Sir Henry, Buckholt, Garman and of course Master Nicholas Falke, the lawyer. The household of Firecrest Manor were always welcome here. The Beaumonts have always been generous patrons of this nunnery.’ She blinked. ‘Sometimes I wonder why. I mean, you men are so eager to make reparation for the sins of the flesh, especially those of hot-blooded youth.’

  ‘I can’t comment on that,’ Cranston retorted. ‘There is only one woman in my life, the Lady Maude, God bless her. Anyway, since the murder?’

  ‘Sir Henry still visits us. He has made it very clear that the murder of his brother was Isolda’s doing and hers alone, no reflection on the Minoresses or our good work here.’

  ‘But Sir Walter came here after his marriage?’

  ‘Yes, until he fell sick and weak. Sometimes he would send Buckholt, his steward.’

  ‘And Parson Garman?’

  ‘Edward Garman is a former Hospitaller, now a priest, chaplain at Newgate and,’ her smile widened, ‘my very distant kinsman. Oh, yes, like all men he was much smitten by Isolda and, as with Master Falke, came here after the murder to discover more about her past, her childhood, anything that could be used in her defence. Falke and Garman passionately believed in Isolda’s total innocence. However,’ she added flatly, ‘Buckholt told me about me about the posset cup. God forgive her but that was damning evidence.’

  ‘And Lady Anne Lesures?’

  ‘Oh, Anne, like many a young woman, married a man much older than her, a powerful city merchant, a patron of this house. He introduced Lady Anne to us. Good Lord, I have known her for so many years. Adam Lesures was an apothecary, a spicer and a very good one despite his deep love for rich red wine. Lady Anne has inherited his place in the Guild. Adam was also, so I understand,’ Mother Clare lowered her voice, ‘a member of Sir Walter’s free company, though after he returned, Adam ploughed his own furrow and left Sir Walter to his own devices. Adam became a patron of our house and, as I say, introduced us to Lady Anne – Anne Lasido as she was then known, the daughter of a London wool merchant.’ Mother Clare touched the wooden tau cross hanging on a cord around her neck. ‘Lady Anne proved to be of great assistance to us, introducing our novices to noble and genteel society according to a particular young woman’s talents and inclinations. Lady Anne had a great admiration for Isolda but, like me, she was not fooled by Isolda’s air of cloying sweetness. We thought marriage to Sir Walter would answer her needs and change her.’

  ‘And Isolda continued to come back here, I mean before the murder?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did she,’ Athelstan asked, ‘ever refer t
o “The Book of Fires”?’

  ‘I have heard of that,’ Mother Clare replied. ‘Of course, Sir Walter was the King’s Master of Ordnance. Rumours abounded that the Beaumonts possessed secret formulas. Isolda sarcastically referred to how her husband’s wealth came from fire.’

  ‘And did she discuss her marriage to Sir Walter?’

  ‘Not so much discuss as pronounce. As I have said, she resented his control. Isolda really wanted to be by herself and do what she wanted. You could see the marriage was not one made in heaven and on that,’ Mother Clare rapped the tabletop with her fingers, ‘let me explain. On a number of occasions, just weeks before the murder, Isolda visited our small library. She was as learned in her horn-book as any scholar at St Paul’s, though her real interest, or so I thought, was the tales of Arthur and Avalon. You can imagine my surprise when I decided to follow her into the library. I hid in the shadows – you see, her visits had made me curious. Anyway, something happened and she had to leave quickly. Once she had gone, I crossed to the book she had placed on the lectern. To my surprise it was the Codex Juris Canonici – the Code of Canon Law. When I opened the book, the marker, a red ribbon, lay across the chapter on seeking an annulment to a marriage.’

  ‘An annulment!’ Athelstan exclaimed. ‘Did she ever say anything about that?’

  ‘Never, Brother. I don’t know if she was seeking an annulment. Did she hate her marriage so much, resent her husband so deeply? I don’t …’ She broke off at a knock at the door. A young novice entered and whispered a message.

  ‘Oh, bring her in,’ Mother Clare trumpeted. She glanced around the novice. ‘Come in, Lady Anne. I have no secrets from you.’

  Lady Anne Lesures, garbed in robes very similar to the nun, swept in, smiled at Cranston and Athelstan then pecked Mother Clare on the cheek.

  ‘Brother Athelstan,’ she explained, ‘I have been very busy. I wish I’d known you were coming here.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, never mind, I shall explain before we leave.’

  ‘Come,’ Mother Clare beckoned, ‘come in, Anne, and close the door. I was telling Sir John about Isolda reading the code about annulment.’

  ‘Did she ever discuss it with you?’ Athelstan asked.

  ‘No.’ Lady Anne’s face sharpened. ‘Never. Isolda was spoilt, wilful and greedy but she had a high opinion of herself and her marriage. I didn’t give it a second thought. Indeed,’ she rubbed the side of her face, ‘I’d forgotten all about that.’

  ‘And you were friendly with her husband, Sir Walter?’

  ‘Brother Athelstan, as you can imagine, we walked the same meadow and rested in the same orchard: banquets, celebrations, guild days and festival occasions. I would pester Sir Walter for alms for a number of good causes. Sir Walter was very kind. He entrusted his Novum Testamentum – his New Testament – to me, a great family treasure. However, about a year before he died, Sir Walter grew sickly, tired, reserved and withdrawn, so I had fewer dealings with him.’

  ‘During the trial,’ Cranston observed, ‘it was alleged that Sir Walter’s sickness could have been due to a slow poisoning. Sutler seemed to believe that, as did Buckholt.’

  ‘Sir John,’ Lady Anne grasped Mother Clare’s wrist, ‘we know nothing of that.’

  ‘And Reginald Vanner?’

  ‘As I said,’ Mother Clare declared, ‘Isolda just used him like she used everyone else. Yes, Lady Anne?’

  ‘Oh, I agree.’

  ‘And “The Book of Fires”, Lady Anne? Did Isolda ever discuss that with you?’

  ‘Brother Athelstan, I know about “The Book of Fires”. Adam, my late husband, fought with Sir Walter and the Luciferi in Outremer.’ She held up a gloved hand. ‘No, Brother, they certainly did not act as comrades in arms. Adam, like many mercenaries who often adopt a new name and identity during their fighting years, was most reluctant to speak about his time in the House of War.’

  ‘I would agree with that,’ Cranston murmured. ‘But Adam and Sir Walter were enemies?’

  ‘No,’ Lady Anne retorted. ‘Their relationship was cold, distant but professional. I gathered there was bad blood between them but Adam remained tight-lipped. I, on the other hand, had a most cordial relationship with Sir Walter.’ She fluttered her eyelids flirtatiously. ‘I think Sir Walter liked me.’

  ‘And my original question about “The Book of Fires”. Did Isolda ever discuss it with you?’

  ‘Very rarely. When she was imprisoned I did ask her of its whereabouts – had she stolen it? But all she knew was that Sir Walter had said its hiding place would be a revelation to all. How few would even guess it was safe on the island of Patmos – and no, Brother, I don’t know what he meant by that.’

  ‘And Buckholt?’

  ‘Forget the rumours, Brother Athelstan, about Buckholt being Rosamund Clifford’s father – that’s nonsense. After Sir Walter was introduced to Isolda he often visited this convent, and Buckholt would accompany him. In a word, Buckholt became very sweet on Rosamund.’ Lady Anne licked her lips. ‘I introduced Rosamund into the Beaumont household with Sir Walter’s permission. We hoped Rosamund and Buckholt would become betrothed, but they certainly did not. Buckholt loved Rosamund but she would have none of it. Some people argued that was another reason for Buckholt’s hatred. He believed Isolda had turned Rosamund against him.’

  ‘Did Isolda,’ Athelstan asked, ‘have such power and influence over Rosamund?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Lady Anne declared. ‘That’s why we introduced Rosamund into Sir Walter’s household, I mean, Rosamund and Isolda being so close. They seemed to be born for their respective roles, Isolda the great lady and Rosamund the trusted maid.’

  The conversation petered out. Athelstan rose and walked around the chamber. ‘Garman, Lesures and Beaumont,’ he spoke over his shoulder, ‘served in the Luciferi. Apparently the company broke up and the soldiers went their separate ways. Beaumont held “The Book of Fires” and kept it to himself. Could the manuscript be the cause of the breakup of the Luciferi, Lady Anne? Mother Clare?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Lady Anne replied. ‘Adam refused to talk about his service.’

  ‘And the same is true of Parson Garman,’ Mother Clare quickly added.

  ‘I think you are correct, Brother,’ Lady Anne continued. ‘Sir Walter amassed a great deal of information about cannon, powder and, above all, Greek fire, but he refused to share these secrets with others. Knowing Sir Walter’s greed for both money and power, I suspect he cheated them out of it and no man, especially a soldier, likes to proclaim how he was tricked and duped.’

  Athelstan nodded and returned to his chair.

  ‘One further matter,’ Cranston asked, ‘Parson Garman? He also visited you here, Mother Clare. He met Isolda and was much taken by her. What else?’

  ‘Edward is a distant kinsman in more ways than one,’ the nun replied. ‘In his youth he too served with the Luciferi. Afterwards he lived for a while as a Hospitaller in Outremer. He returned to London to be ordained, was appointed as chaplain and became a spokesman for the poor, especially the wretched prisoners in Newgate. He didn’t just come here to visit Isolda but also to see Lady Anne.’

  ‘Oh, don’t …’ Lady Anne waved a hand playfully.

  ‘What?’ Athelstan asked.

  ‘Lady Anne does good work for us but she also performs sterling service as the Abbess of the Order of St Dismas, which is dedicated to helping prisoners in Newgate. Now,’ Mother Clare’s voice fell to a whisper, ‘Edward Garman, God bless him, knows about the Upright Men – he is passionate about their cause. They have assured him that when the Great Revolt occurs he will be amongst the saved not the damned. When the black and red banners are raised, Newgate will be stormed and any official, be he Crown or Church, will face summary trial and execution.’

  ‘I understand,’ Cranston murmured, ‘many places will be marked down for destruction, whilst others will be protected, and the same goes for individuals.’

  ‘We are the same h
ere,’ Mother Clare added. ‘All we do is help the poor. Edward Garman came here to beg Lady Anne’s help for certain prisoners. In return, Garman promised that Lady Anne’s house, her person, possessions and retainers would be protected even if all London burns. Sir Walter, God rest him, always believed that because of Lady Anne’s work amongst the prisoners of Newgate, her house would be the safest in London when the revolt breaks out.’

  ‘I am sure,’ Lady Anne tried to hide her blush, ‘that Brother Athelstan will also be safe. You are highly regarded.’

  ‘I’m not too sure,’ Athelstan retorted. ‘What the Upright Men decree now and what will actually happen when the mud is stirred is another matter. But,’ he sketched a blessing in the air, ‘Sir John and I must leave you.’ He paused. ‘Oh, Lady Anne, I just remembered. You said you had something to say to me?’

  ‘I did not know you were coming here,’ she explained, ‘so I sent Turgot with a letter to you at St Erconwald’s. On the night we were attacked, Turgot returned to the corner of that alleyway. You recall it, a thin slit of blackness from where the Ignifer launched his murderous assault? Turgot knows those runnels, slender as arrow shafts which cut through the lanes and shops. He has formed relationships with the beggars and other outcasts who haunt such dark places. Men and women like himself, mutes and cripples.’ Lady Anne drew in a breath. ‘There is one in particular – Didymus.’

  ‘Didymus,’ Athelstan intervened. ‘That’s Greek for “twin”?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Lady Anne continued, ‘that’s the mystery. Didymus maintains he is a twin. He claims his brother is always with him, though nobody else can see him.’

  ‘Not the most reliable witness,’ Cranston joked.

  ‘Sir John, Didymus sees and smells things we do not.’

  ‘Smells?’ Athelstan asked.

  ‘As he did the night we were attacked,’ she replied. ‘Apparently Didymus was in his enclosure discussing matters with his twin brother. Didymus, like Turgot, was educated by the Cistercians. He is skilled in their sign language. On the night of the attack, Didymus saw our assailant creep up the runnel and pause. Didymus informed Turgot how this person was heavily cloaked like a priest,’ she pulled a face, ‘or a woman. He emphasized the latter because he claimed he caught the strong fragrance of a delicate perfume. Turgot questioned Didymus closely. The smell was like that of crushed lilies, very strong and pervasive. The figure did not notice Didymus and passed on. Didymus followed and actually glimpsed the attack taking place at the end of the alleyway. Well, not everything. He glimpsed the flare of flames and heard the hideous screams. Didymus, not the bravest of souls, fled to hide in his enclave. Now,’ she leaned across the table, ‘what is remarkable is Didymus’ description of the perfume. Sir John, Brother Athelstan, Mother Clare will be my witness – that is the same fragrance Lady Isolda always wore.’ She smiled thinly. ‘Anyway, that is the information that Turgot has taken by letter to St Erconwald’s …’