The Grail Murders

this brotherhood were close to the King.'
    Henry's piggy eyes flickered at us down the table and I felt a chill of fear.
    'My Lord Cardinal is right,' he whispered though his voice carried. 'There may be members of this secret brotherhood, this nest of traitors, here at court. And if Master Hopkins can be believed, they too search for the Grail and the Sword Excalibur. Buckingham,' the word was spat out, 'was undoubtedly of their coven and our two faithful agents, Warnham and Calcraft, have paid for their loyalty with their lives.'
    Henry hit the table top with his fist. 'But enough is enough!' He jabbed his finger at Benjamin and myself, 'You, Master Daunbey, and that thing you call your servant, will journey to Glastonbury with my good servants Mandeville and Southgate. You will lodge at Templecombe. You will bring the work of these traitors to nothing and for me, your King, find both the Grail and the Sword of Arthur. Is that clear?' 'Your Grace, I have a number of questions?' "Then ask them!'
    'Dearest Uncle, what makes you think the Templars are so active in the South-West?' Benjamin asked.
    'They are active everywhere,' Wolsey replied. 'In Madrid, in Rome, in Paris, in London, but particularly in the Southwest. Old memories die slowly where the Templars formerly owned most of the land, such as the Santerre estates.'
    I looked at Sir John and his wife, rigid and still as waxen figures, Rachel quiet as a nun beside them.
    Templecombe was a Templar stronghold?' I asked, speaking my master's thoughts.
    Lady Santerre looked dolefully down at us. 'Yes, and we fear the Order as much as His Grace the King. My maiden name is Belamonte. My ancestor was the King's agent in Somerset and Dorset, responsible for arresting the Templars and seizing their lands.' She muttered something else.
    'Speak up, My Lady!' Henry insisted. 'Tell us what you know.'
    'They say,' Lady Santerre began, 'that the Belamontes are cursed and that no good will come to us for the seizure of the Templar manors. My first husband died in a riding accident.' She grasped her second husband's hand. 'I took the name Santerre. Perhaps that will wipe out the curse.'
    'No curse, my Lady.' Mandeville spoke up. 'There is nothing under heaven which cannot be tracked down, trapped and killed. These are a treasonable coven.'
    My master abruptly changed the conversation, 'You said that Hopkins was born in London?' 'Yes,' Mandeville replied. 'Does he have any kin here?'
    'Yes, yes, an elder sister. A woman of faded beauty and slender means. And, no, Master Daunbey, before you ask, she was not party to her brother's treasonable activities.' My master pulled a face.
    'Why do you ask?' Wolsey demanded, his chin thrust forward aggressively.
    Benjamin gazed unblinkingly back whilst I studied these men, their hearts filled with arrogance and pride: the King and Wolsey were devils in silk, Mandeville and Southgate looked venom-mouthed, whilst the Santerres just sat like a row of candlesticks.
    What are you up to, I thought. Why was I provoked into that duel? And what will come of us? Does our fat King see us as mere crow pudding? 'Dear Nephew, I asked you a question?'
    'I was just wondering,' Benjamin replied, 'you say Buckingham wrote to Taplow?' 'I did.' 'So Taplow must have carried messages to someone else?'
    'As I said, dear Nephew,' Wolsey pulled back the silken sleeves of his gown, 'members of this secret Templar brotherhood could be here at court.'
    'And could be responsible for the deaths of Calcraft and Waraham?* 'Perhaps.'
    'It stands to reason they must be,' Benjamin continued remorselessly. 'Someone here in London killed your two agents, either as revenge or because they continued to meddle.'
    Wolsey smiled. 'You are most perceptive,' he murmured. 'Yes, yes, Warnham and Calcraft did believe a Templar lurked high in His Grace's Council, but whom we do not know. Master Taplow, who has been ruthlessly questioned, could not assist us.'
    'So why should we go to Templecombe?' Benjamin sharply asked. 'Dearest Uncle, you have your own agents.' He nodded at Mandeville and Southgate. 'And what guarantee do we have that we will not suffer the same fate as Warnham and Calcraft?' The King's face turned thunderously angry.
    'Because I want you to!' Wolsey intervened quickly, then closed the trap. 'Of course you will be rewarded – whilst the charge of treason, of duelling in the King's presence by Master Shallot will be dropped.' Wolsey spread his hands. 'Indeed, a pardon