Book of Shadows Read online

  ‘I’ll hang the bastard!’ he roared, his eyes searching Kathryn’s face. He gently touched the skin just under the bruise. ‘I’ll take the bastard’s head!’

  ‘No, you won’t, Colum. And let go of my shoulder. It’s hurting enough!’

  Colum stood back, pushing his thumbs into his belt, anxiously watching Kathryn.

  ‘Assault! Attempted rape! These are hanging charges!’

  ‘He’s witless,’ Kathryn retorted, ‘and still under the evil influence of his dead master. Colum,’ she pointed a finger, ‘I want nothing done to him. No accidents and certainly no trial. The worst that should happen to him is a hospital for the witless or immurement in a religious house, which has the compassion to accept him.’

  ‘And Tenebrae’s death?’ Colum asked. He gave a lopsided grin. ‘You are cold and distant, Mistress. I know the signs: that clever brain of yours has been turning.’

  ‘This clever brain of mine,’ Kathryn said wearily, ‘made a few mistakes, Irishman.’ She beckoned to Colum to follow her down the passage to her writing-office where she closed the door behind them. ‘For a while,’ she began, pushing Colum into a chair and standing over him, ‘I believed Tenebrae was murdered by Fronzac who then used the secrets he had learnt from the Book of Shadows to blackmail one of his fellow pilgrims. I was wrong. Tenebrae’s death was much more subtle and the key to it is the order in which the pilgrims visited Tenebrae.’ She searched amongst the scraps of parchment on her desk and plucked one up. ‘They are as follows: Hetherington, Neverett, Condosti, Brissot, Fronzac, Greene and Dauncey. Now I have concentrated on how Tenebrae could be killed by one of these, that’s where I made my mistake.’

  ‘So, who murdered Tenebrae?’ Colum asked.

  ‘I still don’t know who,’ Kathryn replied. ‘I know how.’ She glimpsed the exasperation on Colum’s face. ‘I have no real proof, no hard evidence.’ She leaned over, resting her hands on Colum’s shoulders. ‘I am tired, Irishman, and I am sore but I am more concerned about Foliot’s return. He will come back here with royal serjeants and warrants. God knows whether I will see you again this side of Michaelmas!’

  Colum smiled at her. ‘You’d miss me, woman?’

  ‘Aye,’ Kathryn said, letting her hands drop. ‘Though how much is my secret.’ She held her hand up as Colum made to rise. ‘No, Irishman, now is not the time for mooning or grabbing my hand.’ She winked. ‘There’ll be time for that later. Now I am going to stay here and reflect on what we have learnt. I want to put the pieces together and try to reach some conclusion. If I can’t, we will wait for Master Foliot. When do you think he’ll return?’

  Colum pulled a face. ‘He probably left London late this morning, as it would take time to organise an escort and fresh horses. He’ll be pounding on our door early tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Sufficient time,’ Kathryn replied. ‘Now, only when I ask you, go out and find Rawnose. He is to go to Black Griffin Lane. Drag Bogbean from the alehouse in which he is hiding and tell him to wait outside Tenebrae’s house. Then to the Guildhall, search out Master Luberon, he burns the candle late. Finally, go to the Kestrel tavern. Give our pilgrims short notice, but demand that they immediately accompany you to Tenebrae’s house. Oh, and tell Luberon to bring one of his bailiffs and a rope ladder.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m going to stage my own mystery play,’ Kathryn explained. ‘My only doubt is what lines each player will be given.’

  Colum got to his feet and opened the door. ‘So, there’ll be no supper tonight?’

  ‘No.’ Kathryn grinned over her shoulder as she sat down in the chair. ‘Hunger will sharpen your wits.’

  Kathryn picked up a quill and opened the ink-horn. Colum came back and swiftly put his hands over her eyes.

  ‘Irishman!’ Kathryn warned.

  ‘You are lying.’

  ‘What about?’ Kathryn protested.

  ‘The murderer,’ Colum replied. ‘You know who it is, don’t you? Tell me and I’ll take my hands away.’

  Kathryn nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I think I do but you will have to wait.’

  A few hours later as the great bells of the cathedral boomed out for Vespers, Kathryn and Thomasina entered Black Griffin Lane. They made their way across to the magus’s house where the rest were assembled. Kathryn was confident she could prove who the assassin was: all that was left to do was to close the trap. Luberon and the Guildhall’s bailiffs stood apart. Bogbean and Rawnose chattered in a corner of the garden. Each tried to tell the other news, neither of them really listening. The pilgrims clustered just in front of the doorway. Sir Raymond forced a smile as he glimpsed Kathryn, though his fleshy face was now sallow, his eyes red-rimmed. Thomas Greene looked nervous and kept plucking at a loose thread in his cloak. Dauncey stood resting on her cane, staring up at the darkening sky. Neverett and Louise whispered together; all looked fearful at being back so close to where their blackmailer had died.

  ‘Is this really necessary?’ Sir Raymond asked, coming forward. ‘Mistress Kathryn, two of our comrades are dead. It is dangerous for us to stay here.’ He licked his lips. ‘London might be safer.’

  ‘I won’t keep you long.’ Kathryn smiled. ‘And I assure you when I have finished, all will become clear. Master Murtagh, are the doors open?’

  Colum, a pair of saddle-bags slung over his shoulders, nodded. Kathryn steeled herself against the memories of what had happened earlier in the day as she led the group into the house and down to the stone-flagged kitchen. The air still smelt slightly sour even though Colum explained that, before she had arrived, he had sprinkled herbs and opened the windows. The rest of the pilgrims also commented on the stink. Kathryn refused to answer their whispered questions. She waited until they were gathered round the great oak table.

  ‘On the morning Tenebrae died,’ Kathryn began, addressing the pilgrims, ‘all of you visited this house. Each went upstairs and into Tenebrae’s chamber. Now the magus was a subtle and cunning man, who invited people into his web with a mixture of threats and blandishments. He could only prophesy the future because he had spies and confidants amongst you, as he had in other groups: those would provide him with tidbits of information, scraps of gossip that he could later use.’ She paused to collect her thoughts, ignoring the black looks from Thomas Greene. ‘At first,’ Kathryn continued, ‘you all came to Tenebrae in the hope of discovering what the future held for you but, in the end, you really had little choice, as Tenebrae discovered secrets about you, which he used for his own sinister purposes.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Thomas Greene shouted, half rising to his feet.

  ‘Master Greene, it is the truth,’ Kathryn retorted, ‘so please sit down.’

  She glanced across at Rawnose and Bogbean who stood open-mouthed, scarcely able to believe the drama that was now unfolding. Thomasina, who was sitting next to her, also bit back her questions. She had pestered Kathryn with a whole list of demands as they’d journeyed here, but Kathryn had remained silent. She had sat for hours in her writing-office, studying carefully the names of the pilgrims and the order in which they’d visited Tenebrae. Only Colum knew the conclusions she had reached. Kathryn now plucked this list from her wallet.

  ‘I believe the order was as follows: Sir Raymond Hetherington, Richard Neverett, Louise Condosti, Charles Brissot, Anthony Fronzac, Thomas Greene and Dionysia Dauncey. So, Mistress Dauncey, I believe you were the last?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I was. Why, what are you implying?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Kathryn declared, ‘except that I want to repeat the events of that morning. Master bailiff, you will act the role of Tenebrae. Don’t look so surprised, man, it’s quite simple.’ She glanced at Colum. ‘Is everything ready?’

  ‘Aye,’ he replied. ‘Mask, cloak, cowl and hood.’

  ‘Good! Master Luberon, you will be Morel. Take our friend the bailiff up, dress him in the cloak laid out there, the candles and torches are lit. All he has to do is sit there: the pilgrims will come up
to see you. They will sit for a few minutes. Once they leave through the door at the end of the far chamber, the bailiff will ring the bell on the desk and Luberon will send up the next person. Sir Raymond, you will go first, followed by Richard Neverett, Mistress Condosti, Dionysia Dauncey, Colum Murtagh, and Master Greene. Thomasina will end these proceedings.’

  ‘This is nonsense!’ Neverett exclaimed, springing to his feet.

  ‘Sit down, sir!’ Colum shouted.

  ‘I promise you,’ Kathryn declared softly, ‘when I have finished, if this is still nonsense, you may leave Canterbury and go where you will. Master Bogbean, please take up your usual post at the back door of the house.’

  Bogbean scuttled out as Luberon, shaking his head, led the equally puzzled bailiff up the stairs. They all waited in silence for a while. Kathryn stared at Thomas Greene, schooling her features, not wishing to give away what she had planned. At last the bell sounded and Luberon, now enjoying himself, came into the kitchen and beckoned Sir Raymond Hetherington who went up as quiet as a lamb. After a while the bell sounded again. Each pilgrim went up, whilst those who had been through the chamber, returned through the front door and quietly re-took their seats in the kitchen.

  ‘Mistress Condosti,’ Kathryn asked, ‘was everything as you found it?’

  The pale-faced woman nodded vigorously. ‘It was eerie,’ she replied. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Very much like the morning I last met Tenebrae.’ She put her face in her hands and began to sob quietly.

  Kathryn gazed compassionately at her and decided it was best to leave matters be. Mistress Dauncey left followed by Colum and Master Greene. At last the bell sounded for Thomasina, and Kathryn followed her out into the hallway.

  ‘Go upstairs,’ she whispered, ‘and do exactly what you are told.’

  Thomasina obeyed. Kathryn waited. The minutes seemed to drag, but at last Thomasina, beaming from ear to ear, came bustling in through the front door.

  ‘It’s done,’ she whispered.

  Kathryn raised a finger to her lips. ‘Then keep your thoughts to yourself,’ she ordered and grinned at the Irishman, who followed Thomasina in, his saddle-bags still flung over his shoulder. ‘And the same goes for you, Master Murtagh!’

  Finally, when everyone was back in the kitchen and the bell was rung again, Kathryn clapped her hands.

  ‘Fine! Now, Master Luberon, bring the bailiff back down here and collect Bogbean from the rear door.’

  Once the clerk had done this, Kathryn turned to the bailiff who was smiling in satisfaction at her.

  ‘Well, sir?’ Kathryn began. ‘Did you act the part of the magus?’

  ‘Of course he did!’ Greene snapped. ‘We all sat on that bloody stool and stared across at him, masked, cowled and hooded. It was like some childish game.’

  ‘Is that what you saw, Master Greene?’

  ‘Yes, it is!’

  ‘No, it was not,’ Kathryn replied. ‘The person you saw was Master Murtagh.’

  ‘But the bailiff spoke,’ Greene exclaimed.

  ‘From the depths of a cowl,’ Colum interrupted. ‘And behind a mask, it is easy to imitate another’s voice.’

  ‘But that’s impossible.’ Bogbean came forward, his face slack in amazement. ‘I opened the door and let the Irishman out.’

  ‘Of course you did,’ Kathryn replied, ‘but which direction did he take?’

  ‘Well, he went round the corner and up the alley-way at the side of the house.’

  ‘You mean the one that runs under the small window on the gallery near the stairs leading down?’

  Bogbean blinked.

  ‘What happened was this,’ Colum declared. ‘Sir Raymond Hetherington went up. He sat on a stool and left. Others followed. When it was my turn, I ordered the bailiff here to take off his hood, mask and cowl, and told him to sit quietly in the shadowy corner just inside the room where no one could see him. I left the chamber, keeping the door open.’ He shrugged. ‘I used a glove. I then went downstairs, out into the alley-way and climbed the rope ladder.’

  ‘You see, before he left the house,’ Kathryn explained, ‘Colum had opened the shuttered window on the gallery and let down a rope ladder. Once he was out, he climbed back up this, removed the rope ladder, putting it back into his saddle-bags, closed the window and shutters and went back into the chamber. He then dressed and acted the part of the magus.’

  ‘But I never saw him leave again,’ Bogbean interrupted.

  ‘Ah, that was due to me,’ Thomasina intervened. ‘When I went up, Colum told me what was happening. We then left the chamber, closing the door behind us. Colum re-opened the gallery window and went down the rope ladder. I loosened this and threw it down to him. I then closed the window shutters and went downstairs where you, Master Bogbean, saw me leave.’

  ‘Something very similar,’ Kathryn explained, ‘happened the day Tenebrae was killed. I kept thinking only one pilgrim was involved in his murder but, of course, Mistress Dauncey, there were two, weren’t there?’

  The old widow sat, horrified, her fingers to her lips.

  ‘On the day Tenebrae was killed,’ Kathryn continued, ‘things were a little different. The pilgrims weren’t assembled here. They came to the house at different times, as arranged by Master Fronzac. You may recall the order. He followed Brissot, then came Master Greene and finally Mistress Dauncey. Now Fronzac and Dauncey had conspired to kill Tenebrae. Fronzac went upstairs, carrying his saddle-bags as Colum did. He entered the chamber and sat on the stool. Perhaps he said something to make Tenebrae laugh. The magus leans back, head slightly up. From beneath his cloak Fronzac brings out a small arbalest, the bolt is fired and Tenebrae dies. Now, Fronzac acts quickly. He strips the body of hood, cowl and mask and drags the corpse over to the same shadowy corner where you, master bailiff, sat. The body is hidden in the shadows. Fronzac hurries across the room. From the saddle-bags he carries, he plucks out a small rope ladder, opens the gallery window and leaves the ladder hanging. He goes downstairs and Bogbean lets him out. Our good porter pays very little attention to which direction each pilgrim takes. Fronzac hurries round to the alley-way, it is narrow and dark, no one can see what is going on. Fronzac climbs the rope ladder, rolls it up and hides it, after securing the windows and shutters. He goes back into the room, as Colum did, for he’d kept the door open, then dresses the part of the magus.’ Kathryn paused to clear her throat. ‘Now this was the subtlety of their plot: it wouldn’t take long. Greene has yet to arrive. Fronzac has used the time to set up his little sham whilst Morel will not let anyone up the stairs until that damnable bell is rung. By the time Master Greene entered the chamber,’ Kathryn continued, ‘everything was as it should be. He merely sees what he expects to see. Fronzac would help this along, imitating the magus’s voice. I wager he was most pleasant to you, Master Greene?’

  ‘Yes, he was,’ the goldsmith interrupted. ‘He consulted the Book of Shadows and tarot cards. He said that all would be well and that I was to invest in the King’s new trading ventures with Burgundy.’ Greene shook his head. ‘The room was dark. Tenebrae’s voice was sombre but I was more interested in what was being said. Only now, looking back . . .’ he glanced nervously at Colum and fell silent.

  ‘I know what you were going to say,’ Kathryn intervened. ‘Never once was any reference made to those matters you prefer to be kept hidden.’

  ‘Aye,’ Greene murmured, not raising his head. ‘I was so pleased at what I learnt, I fair skipped from that chamber.’

  ‘And then came Mistress Dauncey,’ Kathryn continued. ‘She joins her accomplice in the chamber. Fronzac quickly divests, pulls across Tenebrae’s corpse, the cloak, cowl, hood and mask are put on again. They leave the chamber, the door closes, locking itself behind them. The shutters and windows are quickly opened, the rope ladder is once again used. Fronzac, clutching the precious Book of Shadows, goes down: Mistress Dauncey releases the rope ladder, secures the windows and shutters and goes down the stairs.’ Kathryn glanced at B
ogbean. ‘You may remember what happened? Mistress Dauncey opened her purse to give you a coin but, in doing so, others fell to the ground. You dutifully scrambled about, collecting them for her?’

  Bogbean, gaping, nodded.

  ‘Just a little protection,’ Kathryn added. ‘A diversion to keep you occupied whilst her accomplice Fronzac left for Black Griffin Lane.’

  ‘But the bell?’ Luberon asked. ‘Morel heard the bell sound as a sign that Tenebrae’s last visitor had left.’

  ‘Of course, I apologise,’ Kathryn replied. ‘Once Tenebrae was back in the chair, Fronzac or Mistress Dauncey rang the bell. Morel comes hastening upstairs to ask his master if he needs further refreshment. Fronzac, of course, replies: Morel, not expecting any different, returns whilst the two murderers, as I’ve described, make their escape.’ Kathryn stared across at Dauncey, noticing how the rest of the pilgrims had begun to distance themselves from her. ‘I’ve kept you over long,’ Kathryn declared quietly. ‘And that was my mistake. I was locked in a puzzle; I believed only one of you was guilty of Tenebrae’s death until I examined the chamber upstairs. I discovered the blood specks where Tenebrae’s corpse had been thrown and the faint marks on the wooden window-sill from which Fronzac made his escape by the rope ladder.’ She paused. ‘The rest was mere conjecture.’ She glanced at Sir Raymond. ‘It was Fronzac who arranged the visits to Tenebrae?’

  ‘Of course, he was our clerk. But what was the purpose behind it all?’

  ‘Tenebrae was a blackmailer. He knew about Mistress Dauncey’s ailment and threatened her with public ridicule unless she married him.’

  The widow put her face in her hands and began to sob softly.

  ‘Tenebrae, marry Widow Dauncey, never!’ Neverett exclaimed.

  ‘Impossible!’ Sir Raymond echoed.

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Dauncey lowered her hands from her ravaged face. ‘What I suffered from is my own concern. Tenebrae sent me a letter threatening to make public mockery of what I am. He’d only keep silent in return for my hand in marriage.’ She glanced pitifully at Kathryn. ‘He wanted his hands on my wealth, my shops, my warehouses, my goods, my property. He made his claims,’ she added bitterly, ‘at a time when I had thought I had discovered happiness. Master Fronzac and I had become friends. Not lovers: there was no passion, no romance, but he offered a marriage of convenience, companionship, friendship.’ She smoothed the top of the table with her long, bony fingers. ‘Or so I thought. Mistress Swinbrooke is correct,’ she continued. ‘I confessed all to Fronzac and we devised a scheme to kill Tenebrae.’ She smiled as if to herself. ‘It would have worked. Fronzac even fashioned a wax image of the magus, drove a nail through it and left it in a public place.’