The Deadliest Sin (54 page)

At least today the rain kept away the jeering boys and curious young clerics who came to peer down at him. Anyone crossing the courtyard hurried as fast as they could to get safely to shelter
again. Only the bells in the Cathedral ringing out the hours of the services marked the slow crawl of time.

Oswin heard the door at the end of the passage grate open and he sat up. The gaoler had already been round with the daily ration of bread and water, and it was too much to hope that he might be
returning with more. He heard voices. Were they bringing another prisoner in or taking one out? He listened for the sound of a cell door being opened further down the corridor, but the footsteps
did not pause in front of any cell. Judging by the clatter of wood on stone, one of the people approaching was wearing wooden pattens tied over their shoes to stop them being spoiled by the mud and
puddles. Not the gaoler or a prisoner then.

The footsteps stopped outside his own door. He heard the key grinding in the lock and lumbered to his feet, brushing the straw from his clothes, as the door opened.

‘We’ve been taking good care of him, Treasurer,’ the gaoler said.

Oswin’s stomach knotted. If the treasurer was here, it could only be about the missing cross.

‘Wait for me outside in the courtyard,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ll call you when I want the door unlocked.’

‘Outside?’ The gaoler didn’t sound as if he relished the prospect of standing around in the freezing rain, but he shuffled away, not daring to complain, at least not out
loud.

The treasurer ducked his head under the low doorway and tottered into the cell. He loomed over Oswin, for the wooden pattens increased his height by at least four inches. He gazed round the cell
with curiosity and then down at Oswin, who was suddenly and painfully aware of how dishevelled he must look, and of the stench emanating from the overflowing piss-pail in the corner.

‘I will be asking your two companions the same questions, so I’d strongly advise you, Father Oswin, to speak only the truth this time. Your companions do not seem quite as adept at
inventing tales as you appear to be and will undoubtedly give you away.’

He held up a bony hand to silence any protest from Oswin.

‘Do you number among your friends Deacon Eustace from the Church of St Lawrence?’

Oswin nodded, feeling that the less he said the better.

‘Then I regret that I must convey sad tidings. You doubtless heard the death bell tolling yesterday. That was rung for Father Eustace, who died in the infirmary last evening.’

Oswin swayed, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall. It was not grief that moved him, but the shock of yet another of their circle dying. They were all young men and, while death
could strike at any age, the thought that two out of the five of them had died in a week was chilling.

‘H. . . how?’ he stammered.

‘I believe,’ Thomas said, watching Oswin closely, ‘that his death will be accounted as murder. All the evidence is that he was struck on the head by a cross, a silver cross
that was stolen from the Cathedral.’

Oswin tried hard to look both shocked and guiltless. The first was not difficult, but as Thomas continued to stare hard at him, he felt his face grow hot and prayed that in the half-light in the
cell, it would not be noticed.

‘I think you have kept up this pretence long enough, Father Oswin. No doubt you think it amusing to try to fool the
majores personae
of the Cathedral, but I can assure you it is a
dangerous game. You may think that because you have benefit of clergy, the penalties for theft and murder will not be severe. But it is not without precedent that a priest may be tried in the
ecclesiastical courts and unfrocked by them, leaving the way open for him to be tried by the civil justices, in which case, as you know, the penalty would undoubtedly be death. And when a priest
has stolen a valuable cross and reliquary, in addition to committing not just one, but two murders, I think it very likely he would find himself eventually standing trial in a civil
court.’

Oswin was already feeling shaky from the flux, but now his legs threatened to give way altogether. ‘But, Father Thomas, you know I couldn’t possibly have murdered Eustace. I’ve
been locked up in here and he was fit and well when last I saw him. You know he was, because he was the man who called the watch to the chapel.’

‘Eustace?’ Thomas frowned. ‘The sergeant-at-arms said it was a woman who raised the alarm.’ He frowned, staring down at the rain drops pattering into the puddles.
‘I hadn’t remembered that before,’ he murmured. ‘So was this another woman or the same one?’ He suddenly seemed to recollect that he was not alone and looked up
again.

‘No one is suggesting you murdered Eustace. It is known all three of you were locked in here at the time he was attacked, but you seem to be forgetting that you were discovered with two
corpses. Either you killed both of them, or you are guilty of grave-robbing, which is just as wicked as murder in the eyes of the Church and the law.’

‘But, I swear to you, I didn’t kill anyone. I never even laid eyes on that . . . that woman until we found her in the chapel.’

‘But you did know the body of Giles was there, didn’t you?’ Father Thomas said sternly. ‘You know because you put it there. If you hope for any mercy from the Church, you
would be wise to make a full and honest confession to me now.’

Oswin knew he was beaten. Even if he continued to deny everything, he was certain Robert at any rate would spill all, if he hadn’t done so already. He was intimidated by his uncle at the
best of times. If he had the treasurer and precentor threatening him as well, he’d be crying like an infant.

Taking a deep breath, he recounted the whole story, from Giles’s challenge to the night they were discovered in the chapel. It must be admitted that in the telling rather more of the blame
found its way onto the shoulders of Giles and Eustace than was strictly truthful, but that could hardly matter to them now.

Thomas listened in silence, his scowl becoming ever deeper. The bone-white scar seemed to glow with increasing intensity in the gloom of the cell, until Oswin couldn’t drag his gaze from
it. Oswin couldn’t tell if Thomas’s mounting anger was because of the theft of the cross or the concealment of the body, or if he thought he was being lied to again. But whatever the
cause, that look of fury on his superior’s face did not bode well for Oswin.

A throbbing silence stretched between the two men, in which the beat of the rain drops sounded like the thudding of a giant heart. Without warning, Thomas’s hand moved to his belt and, for
one wild and terrifying moment, Oswin thought he was reaching for his knife. But instead, Thomas fumbled in his leather scrip and pulled out a small, folded piece of white linen.

He laid it on the flat of his palm and peeled back the folds of cloth with the other hand.

Oswin stared in bewilderment. As far as he could see there was nothing in the linen. Was this some new method of divining the truth or unmasking a killer that he hadn’t yet studied?

‘Look at these strands of hair,’ Thomas said. ‘Careful! Don’t breathe on them; if they blow into the straw, we’ll never find them.’

Oswin leaned forward, as Thomas swung his palm towards the grey light filtering down with the rain through the grating. Against the bright white linen, he could just make out three long
hairs.

‘Have you taken a good look?’

When Oswin nodded, Thomas carefully wrapped them again and put the little package back into his scrip.

‘Think carefully. Do you know any women with hair of that colour?’

Oswin was wary. He could make little senses of the question and immediately thought Thomas was trying to trick him to confessing another sin. ‘Lots of women come to services in the
Cathedral, but I don’t actually know any, if you mean like Rob—’

Oswin checked himself. Robert was, after all, the subdean’s nephew. In his position, Oswin certainly didn’t want word to reach Father William that he had accused his nephew of
fornication.

Thomas gave a dry little cough. ‘I am well acquainted with Father Robert’s proclivities, if that is what is concerning you, Father Oswin. I am not necessarily suggesting that this
woman is known to you in the carnal sense, but I wish you to think carefully. Have you ever seen a woman with hair of this colour with Father Eustace? You see, these hairs were taken from the cross
used to bludgeon him. They’re clearly not his, so there is just a chance they may belong to his assailant. Someone who might have had a grudge against him? Someone he denied alms to?

‘I’ve already made enquiries among his congregation at St Lawrence. But of those women who have similar hair, none quite matches these and all could prove they were somewhere else at
the time of his attack. I will question every woman with russet hair in Lincoln, if I have to, but that could take some time. But it occurred to me, she might be someone known to Eustace’s
friends. Someone he mentioned to you that he’d quarrelled with, perhaps?’

Oswin shook his head. ‘Eustace didn’t ever mention women, except to grumble about their whole sex in general. Even if a woman did speak to him, he wouldn’t have known what
colour her hair was, because he never looked at them. Why, even—’ He stopped. ‘There is one he knew with this colour hair, but why on earth should she . . .?’

Treasurer Thomas sat alone in the crowded ale-room of the tavern, watching the people on the benches around him. In truth, he was enjoying himself. He seldom got the chance to
listen to the gossip and banter in such places any more, for, when he was in Lincoln, he dined with his fellow clerics, and even when travelling to make inspections of property he was expected to
dine in the religious houses along the route, which was in any case safer for a man in his position, who would be marked at once as carrying gold and silver. Not since he had been employed as a spy
for the treacherous Queen Isabella had he had cause to lurk in the corners of inns and taverns.

He’d been watching her all evening, but it wasn’t wise to tackle her in front of a room full of people. In his experience, the regulars would rally around one of their own and it was
common for them to block the path of men-at-arms or mob them, while the wanted man or woman slipped out the back of the inn and fled into the night. So he bided his time and savoured the plainness
of the mutton stew in contrast to the rich and elaborate dishes served in his own chambers.

He beckoned to the serving maid. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve any fat bacon. I’d pay well for a couple of slices of that.’

She raised her eyebrows. He had just consumed a generous portion of stew, but if he wanted to part with more money, she certainly wasn’t going to turn him away.

‘I’ll have to fetch it from the cellar, sir.’

He waited until she’d descended the stairs, then he gave a single nod to a man sitting on the opposite side of the ale-room and, unobserved by anyone else in the crowded room, he slipped
through the cellar door, closing it behind him.

The woman was slicing bacon from a flitch hanging from a large iron hook on one of the beams. At the creak on the stairs, she turned, wary, then relaxed a little as she saw who it was.

‘I’m just coming, sir. You go back up and take a seat. I’ll not be long. Customers aren’t supposed to come down here.’

‘Only clerics, is that right, Meggy?’

She shrugged. ‘There’s a group of them come to play dice sometimes. We let them use the cellars. Puts the other customers off, see, having them around.’

‘But they haven’t been here for several days.’

‘I dare say they’ll be back,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what’s it to you?’

Thomas pulled the brimmed hat from his head, revealing his tonsure. ‘I was thinking of joining them.’

‘You’ll have to ask them. They don’t just let anyone into their little group.’

‘But now that two of their members won’t be coming back, they’ll surely need new blood. He died, you know, Father Eustace. You probably heard the bell tolling for
him.’

The knife jerked in her hand and she swore as it nicked her finger. She sucked at the wound.

‘I’m sorry to bring you such distressing news,’ Thomas said.

‘Why should I be distressed? Salt from the bacon, is all. Stings like the very devil when it gets into a cut.’

But Thomas saw her hands were trembling. She slid the platter onto the table, without looking at him.

‘Here’s your meats. Eat them down here or take them back upstairs, as you please, it’s all the same to me. I can’t waste time talking. I got customers want
serving.’

She tried to edge past him, but he stretched out his hand to the table blocking the way.

‘You didn’t ask how Father Eustace died. He was a young man. Aren’t you curious?’

‘Was he?’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t know him. One priest more or less in the world, makes no odds to me. There’s plenty more to take his place.’

‘You didn’t know him and yet you served him, served him and all five of them every time they came down here to play dice.’

‘Don’t know their names.’

‘Maybe not,’ he said. ‘But you’d recognise them, and Father Eustace recognised you, too, didn’t he? In Father Robert’s chambers? Was that why you hit him with
the cross, the cross you were stealing? You wanted to stop him reporting you as a thief ?’

Her head snapped up. ‘I wasn’t stealing it. It was that priest of yours who took it, but they never get punished whatever crimes they commit, do they? Only us. It’s always
us.’

‘So, if you weren’t stealing it, why did you hit Father Eustace with it? And don’t try to deny it. You’ve just admitted you knew about it. No one, save for the five
members of the Black Crows, knew the cross was missing.’

She was staring wildly about her, panic rising in her face. He guessed she was going to try to make a run for it, but what he was not prepared for was the mask of savagery that suddenly twisted
her face. With a shriek, she lifted her knife and lunged at him.

Had it been Father William or Father Paul in that cellar, there was no question the Cathedral bell would have been tolling out their deaths that evening. But Father Thomas had not acquired his
scar at the Cathedral treasure house. He dodged sideways, letting her momentum carry her forward and, grabbing her wrist, he twisted the knife from her grasp.