The Grail Murders

Lord of Buckingham as, God be my witness, I know mine!'
    'Are you saying,' Southgate accused, 'that you sympathise with the dead Duke?'
    'No, sir, I do not!' Santerre bellowed. 'And pray do not put words in my mouth. My Lord of Buckingham came here. He sat at this very table and, when he was gone, your two creatures came and asked me what he said. I told the truth. The rest was in your hands.'
    Santerre pulled his chair back to the table. 'God knows,' he concluded softly, 'some of the Duke's blood may be on my hands.' He stared round the hall. 'I am not of these parts,' he continued, 'I was Hampshire born.' Santerre clutched his wife's hand firmly in his. 'But when I married Lady Beatrice, she took my name and I took her house. I came here to be a good lord as well as the King's most loyal servant! Think of that, Sir Edmund, before you sit at my table and hint about who was responsible for the death of your secretary! God knows, it wasn't me or mine!'
    Southgate sneered. Mandeville simply stroked his dark face as if weighing up carefully what he was to do next.
    'Sirs,' Benjamin intervened tactfully, 'before any judgement is passed, we must recognise the truth of what Sir John says. My Lord of Buckingham was of these parts. We have come here to disturb legends which are a part of the very soil of these lands. Sir Edmund Mandeville, think about what has been said. Your two agents, Calcraft and Warnham, may have been followed to London and killed by one of the Duke's retainers or by these secret Templars. Sir John cannot be held responsible for the loyalty of every one of his servants, and Cosmas's death, God rest him, is a mystery.'
    'What intrigues me,' I asserted, 'is that the witch we met yesterday prophesied such a death. Don't you remember, Sir Edmund? Death by fire, by rope, by steel and by water? And may I remind you that none of us were exempt from that curse.' My words created an eerie silence. *I should have had that witch brought in!' Mandeville cursed.
    "The witch can't be blamed,' Rachel declared softly. 'She only spoke the truth: this house is haunted. The spirits of the Templars wander its passageways and galleries. Cosmas's death is not the first tragedy to have occurred here.' Her face hardened. 'Oh, yes, there have been other deaths here, haven't there, Mother?' She did not wait for a reply. 'My own father was killed in a riding accident. Servants have slipped downstairs. An old nurse hanged herself in one of the barns. A gardener was found drowned in the lake. Suicides, or so the coroner declared.' Rachel's sombre words chilled all our souls. 'Is this true?' Benjamin asked her parents.
    Santerre nodded. Lady Beatrice rubbed her face in her hands, distraught, losing her air of frosty self-possession.
    'Yes,' she answered reluctantly. 'Many say this house is haunted. The common people do not blame me or my husband for Buckingham's downfall but say his fate was star-crossed by this house. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could burn the entire building to the ground!' 'We could always make a start,' Southgate quipped.
    'Nonsense!' Benjamin replied. 'True, I accept the legions of hell are all around us. We fight, as St Paul says, against an invisible foe. Ghosts may walk but so do murderers. Cosmas's death had more to do with flesh and blood than curses, witches or ghosts.' He smiled bleakly at Rachel. 'Though I agree that the old witch has a most singular gift for prophecy. Sir Edmund Mandeville is correct – perhaps she should be brought in for questioning. However, before we consider that, let's establish if anyone went into Cosmas's room.'
    Damien the mute had been watching my master's hps intently. He tugged me by the sleeve and pointed to Santerre's wife.
    'Lady Beatrice, did you go into Cosmas's chamber?' Mandeville asked.
    'Yes, earlier in the day I did. I am mistress of this house and I have to see that all is well.' 'As did I,' Sir John added. 'For the same reason.'
    ‘I saw a maid going in,' Southgate declared. 'A brown-haired lass with a white coif on her head. She was carrying blankets and linen.'
    'That would be Mathilda,' Sir John replied. 'But she's a simple country girl with hardly a thought in her head. Nevertheless, I'll question her.'
    'I don't think a maid,' Benjamin asserted, 'would plot murder. Sir John, how long did yesterday's evening meal last?' 'About two hours.'
    Benjamin stared down at the table top. 'Roger was the first to leave, then you, Master Southgate, followed by