The Deadliest Sin (50 page)

Robert’s head jerked up. ‘Maybe being necromancer isn’t enough for you.’

He scrambled to his feet to face Oswin, his face contorted in anger. ‘You want to ingratiate yourself still further by discovering a thief. That would certainly get you noticed,
wouldn’t it? You always said you’d be a bishop before you were thirty. What are you planning to do? Wait until they discover the cross is missing, then produce it before the whole
Cathedral Chapter, claiming you’d divined where the thief had hidden it? It’s not enough for you to have us humble clerics admire your talents. That won’t help you advance. No,
you need the bishop and every priest in Lincolnshire to know just how clever you are. Maybe if you’re lucky, word might even reach the Archbishop of Canterbury himself.’

Oswin fumbled with the buttons fastening his cloak and wrenched it from his shoulders, throwing it on the ground between him and Robert. He held his arms out wide.

‘Come on then,’ he taunted. ‘If you really believe I have the cross why don’t you search me? Want me to strip naked to make it easier?’

He whipped round to face Giles. ‘As for me having time to take it when the riders were passing, that applies to every one of you. Any of you could have slipped to the shrine while the
others were hiding and taken it. And unlike me, you all had good reason. You all wanted me to fail to find it, so I’d lose the wager. You most of all, Giles, and you, John, because neither of
you could afford to pay. You both admitted as much in the tavern. And with your fondness for gambling, you’d find the money very useful, if I had to pay you, wouldn’t you, John? So
let’s search everyone, shall we?’

John pushed his way in front of Giles, his huge fists clenched. ‘Are you calling me a swindler, you steaming pile of pig shit?’

Before Oswin could reply, Eustace had stepped between them. ‘You claimed to have found the cross once already tonight, Oswin, so why can’t you tell where it’s gone now, or was
that just a lucky guess? After all, you too dine with the subdean, so you could just as easily have heard about this place as Robert did.’

‘I’ve heard about a hundred places, how would I know which Robert would choose?’ Oswin said indignantly.

‘Unless you two are in collusion,’ Giles said. ‘Brothers of the glorious Cathedral are bound to stick together against us mere scullions who labour in the common churches. But
Eustace is right. Here’s your chance to prove your talents to us once and for all. Go on, find the cross now!’

Oswin was almost white with rage. ‘I told you,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘The rite can only be performed on consecrated ground. Why do you think we went to that pigpen
of a chapel? Because, unlike a shrine, it has a relic. I could go back there, but the time that would take would give the thief ample opportunity to whisk the cross far away. Or is that the idea,
Giles? Get us out of the way, so you can carry it off ?’

Oswin was breathing hard, trying to control his temper. ‘Look, if one of us took it, he would have had to conceal it somewhere nearby, under some fallen leaves or in a hollow tree, with
the intention of returning for it later,’ he added, glaring pointedly at Giles. ‘There wouldn’t have been time for any of us to carry it far and return to the track again. So I
suggest we search for it.’

The Black Crows eyed each other with hostility, but since no one else seemed to have a better solution, they reluctantly agreed to separate and search, drawing lots with dice as to who should go
in which direction. After further heated argument as to who should get the lantern, it was decided to leave it in the centre of the clearing where its light could guide them back.

They disappeared into the trees. The whining of the wind in the branches mingled with the sounds of shoes shuffling through fallen leaves, of sticks poking under sodden vegetation, and the
occasional cry of hope as they struck against something hard, only to find it was a stone or a rusting horse-shoe. In front of them, the wind-whipped bushes and trees loomed out of the darkness as
assassins waiting to trip and tear, scratch and strike. Like sailors in a storm, they kept glancing back towards the clearing, fearful of losing sight of the faint yellow glow that appeared and
disappeared behind the swaying bushes.

A shriek tore through the darkness, freezing every man in his tracks. They held their breath, listening, frantically trying to decide which direction it had come from, but the cry had been too
brief and the wind distorted every sound. So, they turned, stumbling back towards the fragile safety of the clearing, the blood pounding in their ears, as if the Devil’s black horse was
galloping behind them.

One by one, they burst out of the trees, staring at each other. What was that? Who was that? Where did it come from? Did you hear? It took several minutes before they realised that only four men
stood in the clearing. Where is he? Which way did he go? Come on! Hurry!

Huddling together in a little knot, they edged back into the wood, taking the lantern with them, holding it up high, as monstrous shadows ran beside them.

Over there. What’s that?

His body was lying curled on its side, his back towards them. They hurried across and crouched down. His eyes were staring sightless out into the darkness beyond. His mouth was wide open, in
pain and shock, one hand still lying across his chest as if he’d clutched at the wound, trying to stanch the blood that had gushed out over his fingers. The Black Crows did not have to touch
him to know at once that Giles was dead.

They stared at one another in shock and fear. But who? Why? They peered into the darkness, staring wildly about them for any sign of an assailant, but only the trees stirred.

Robert was visibly trembling. ‘What are we going to do? If . . . if we take him back to Lincoln, the whole story will come out, and what if they think one of us killed him?’

‘What if one of us
did
murder him?’ Eustace said, looking from one to the other of his companions. ‘I don’t see anyone else out here, do you? If Giles stumbled
upon the cross before the person who stole it had a chance to recover it . . .’

‘God’s bones, you surely can’t believe that,’ John said aghast. ‘None of us would kill for that cross.’

‘One of us might,’ Eustace, said, staring at him pointedly, ‘if he was desperately in need of money. People have been known to run up quite a debt at the gaming houses or
cockpits, and they say the men who own them are not known for their patience.’

With a bellow of rage and indignation, John aimed his huge fist at Eustace’s jaw. If it had connected, Eustace would probably have lost a few teeth, but he managed to stumble backwards
just in time.

‘Stop it!’ Robert pleaded. ‘It’s bad enough one murder’s been committed without adding a second. No one believes you killed him, John, but the point is
they’re bound to think one of us did. And how are we to prove otherwise? And once they learn we all took the cross, they might even think we all had a hand in his murder as well.’

‘It was you who took it,’ Eustace said. ‘The rest of us had nothing to do with it.’

‘But we all knew he was going to do it,’ Oswin said quietly. ‘And we told him to do it. That’s conspiracy and it carries the same punishment. Robert’s right, we
can’t take Giles back, nor can we let the body be discovered.’

‘We could bury him out there among the trees,’ Robert said. ‘The grave wouldn’t be noticed, if we covered it with the fallen leaves and the old bracken.’

‘Can’t dig with your bare hands,’ John said, still glowering at Eustace. ‘Need a spade to dig a deep enough hole and you’ll be digging through roots. Not an easy
job, nor a quick one. Too shallow and he’ll be dug up by any passing dog or fox. I can fetch us a couple of spades. I know where our sexton keeps them. But I’ll not be able to get back
with them till tomorrow night. So what’ll we do with the body till then?’

Oswin gnawed at his lip. ‘That chapel we met in, you said no one ever uses it, Robert. We could hide him in there until we can dig the grave.’

It took them some time to retrace their steps to the chapel, for even in the dark they dared not risk using the track and had to wind their way through the trees. John carried Giles’s
corpse all of the way, slung over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. But by the time they got inside and thankfully locked the door behind them, even he was staggering and he dropped the body onto
the tiles with such a crash, that if Giles hadn’t already been dead, the fall probably would have killed him.

‘Where . . . where do we put him?’ Robert asked, despondently. ‘It doesn’t seem right just to leave him on the floor, and the shutters are broken in places. Someone could
peer in, when it’s light.’

They gazed around. The chapel was so small that there weren’t many hiding places.

‘Behind the altar?’ Eustace suggested.

Oswin shook his head. ‘He could be seen by someone looking through that casement above it. There . . . in the Easter Sepulchre. We can use the wooden cover to seal it, as they do on Good
Friday.’

With Oswin taking the feet and John the head, they carried the body to the long alcove and with much pushing and shoving managed to ease it inside, crossing the hands over the breast. From his
scrip, Oswin removed the flask of chrism for the second time that evening. Eustace grasped his sleeve, shaking his head.

‘You cannot. He died unshriven.’

Oswin angrily jerked his arm from Eustace’s grip, and dipping his fingers in the holy oil, made the three-times-seven crosses on Giles’s body. Eustace turned away, but John and
Robert murmured the words with Oswin. ‘I anoint thee with holy oil in the name of the Trinity, that thou mayest be saved for ever and ever.’

When all was done, they heaved the dusty wooden cover into place to seal the side of the alcove and, in silence, hastened away out into the bitter night.

A man clad in deacon’s robes standing in a Cathedral Close is as near as any person may come to being invisible. Beggars, pilgrims, thieves and clerics alike keep a sharp
lookout for those dressed in the robes of high offices, but those wearing the robes of deacons, priests and clerks are as common as dog dung and few men even bother to look at their faces.

The Cathedral Close was crowded. Priests sauntered by in twos and threes, while clerks with arms full of scrolls scurried past them. Pilgrims in little bands jostled to get ahead of their
fellows and be first in line for the queues to the shrine of St Hugh. Men hefted bundles of dried fish, whole pigs’ heads and planks of timber. Women clustered round the stalls selling boiled
sheep’s feet, spices or herring. A group of choristers dodged round the legs of horses as they chased a ball, kicking it from one to the other, ignoring the bellows of the woman whose pots it
came within a whisker of smashing.

No one took any notice of Eustace as he swiftly mounted the outside stairs to Robert’s chamber. Thanks to his uncle’s influence, Robert had managed to secure lodgings in one of the
many little houses that surrounded the Cathedral, though such chambers were normally assigned to clergy far more senior than he. A wooden shelter protected the top of the stairs and prevented the
rain being driven straight in whenever the door was opened. Eustace groped along the top of one of the beams inside the roof of the shelter, until he found the nail on which Robert kept his key.
Robert constantly mislaid his key and as Eustace had discovered on a previous occasion when he accompanied Robert home, he had taken to concealing it rather than carrying it around with him.
Eustace swiftly turned the key in the lock and slipped through the door, closing it behind him.

The chamber was scarcely more than a loft in the roof space, with only enough room to stand fully upright in the centre, but as Robert had said, at least he was the sole occupant, unlike many of
his fellows who were obliged to share the bigger rooms. Eustace scowled. He knew exactly why Robert thought this a virtue, because while he might live alone, he certainly didn’t sleep
alone.

Eustace gazed round the room. Robert was fastidious about his clothes, if not about his bedfellows, and the room was stuffed with chests holding linens, hose, and tunics, while a line of
well-crafted leather boots and shoes stood along one wall, like an army ready to march.

As Robert had feared, the treasurer had called for every artefact in the Cathedral to be checked again the inventories. It was only a matter of time before the cross was reported missing.
Eustace had already searched the rooms of Oswin and John, but found nothing. He’d left Robert till last, certain that if he had retrieved the cross, unlike the others, he would have smuggled
it back into the Cathedral chest. But supposing he hadn’t had a chance to do that, and it was still hidden in his room somewhere?

Eustace worked his way methodically round the chamber twice, first searching in and behind boxes and the bed, then with the help of a chair, running his hands along the top of the beams, but he
found nothing. That, Eustace thought, left only one culprit – Giles. He had not had the cross on him when he . . . when he died. So either he hadn’t retrieved it from where he had
hidden it, or he had stowed it in another hiding place in the grove. It had to be there somewhere among those trees. There’d been no time to take it anywhere else. Eustace would have to
return to the forest and search again, this time alone.

The wind was no less fierce on the following night, but at least it was dry. Oswin was grateful for that much at least as he trudged up the dark track towards the chapel. He
had brought his own lantern this time, but kept the light muffled by his cloak, trying to ensure that it illuminated only the foot or so of the ground ahead of him. It was law that any man walking
abroad at night should carry a torch or lantern to prove his good intent. Unfortunately, it also proclaimed to all those whose purpose was not lawful just where the honest man was walking. Not that
what Oswin was about to do was either honest or lawful.

Every step along the track was a forced one. He had to goad himself forward, for his brain was screaming at him to turn back. Let the others do it. Walk away from this while you can. What could
they do about it anyway if you didn’t come? And what if they don’t turn up and leave you to bury the corpse alone? But he had not managed to sleep during what remained of the night
yesterday and he knew he’d never sleep until he’d seen with his own eyes that the corpse was safely buried where no one could find it. Only then could he breathe easily again.