The Grail Murders

Lady Beatrice and Sir John. Finally you, sir,' he pointed at Mandeville, 'with your two clerks.' 'And what time did you leave?' Southgate asked.
    Benjamin blushed. 'I didn't. Lady Rachel and I remained here. She collected a book from her father's library containing all the Arthurian legends, a copy of Malory's Arthur of Britain and the Knights of the Round Table.’
    My heart chilled and I gnawed at my lip to hide my disappointment. Rachel had caught my eye but it seemed her interest was in my master rather than me. 'What are you implying?' Mandeville asked.
    'I am implying nothing. I'm just curious if anyone visited poor Cosmas's chamber.'
    A chorus of denials greeted his question. Mandeville stood and picked up his cloak, thrown over the back of a chair.
    'We were to travel to Glastonbury today but first I must deal with this dreadful business. Sir John, I will need some sort of box to serve as a coffin for poor Cosmas. This can be placed in your manor chapel and perhaps tomorrow, on our way to Glastonbury, we can leave it at the village church. I also have letters to write. His Grace the King will not be pleased by what I have to say. Master Southgate?'
    Both the Agentes took their leave, followed by a silent, doleful Damien. Lady Beatrice and Rachel murmured their excuses whilst Sir John stretched, grumbling that it was all a dreadful business but the affairs of the estate demanded his attention.
    Benjamin watched him leave. 'I wonder where Sir John is really going?' he muttered.
    'If he had any sense he'd stay here and keep an eye on his daughter,' I quipped back. 'You did not tell me, Master, that you spent the night down here in the hall playing cat's-cradle with Mistress Rachel?'
    Benjamin smiled. 'She's beautiful, isn't she, Roger? But she's not for you and she's certainly not for me. This is no game. We are surrounded by death, murder, plot and counter-plot. There is no time for dalliance. Trust no one except me until this matter is finished.'
    He stared round. 'Roger, despite the quilted cushions, the golden clocks, the silver spoons and Venetian goblets, this house has the stink of death about it. I did not wish openly to agree with her but Mistress Rachel was correct. There is something about this place which reeks of ancient sin and, the sooner our task is completed, the better.' 'Do you think the secret Templars exist?' I asked.
    'Possibly. Such societies or covens batten on their own secrecy. They create an exclusive world and, despite its green fields and pleasant villages, the King is right – England seethes with discontent. Great lords with Yorkist blood in their veins hold high office. There's a growing dislike of the Church. The Scots still threaten in the north whilst in Europe great alliances are formed which leave England isolated. In such an atmosphere secret societies like the Templars flourish. You'll always find the strongest weeds on a dung hill.' 'And the Grail and Excalibur?'
    Benjamin shrugged. 'The King wants them or, more importantly, if he can't have them, he wants to make sure no one else does. I cannot make sense of that rhyme. What are the waters of Jordan?' He pulled a face at me. 'That's why I was talking to our young beauty last night. Is there, in this God forsaken place, some stream, river, house or church bearing the name Jordan? And where could Moses' Ark possibly be?' 'And could she help?'
    'No, nor could her father – or so Mandeville told me last night after you had retired. So Master Hopkins's riddle is still shrouded in mystery.' 'Did he leave any papers?'
    'None whatsoever. According to Mandeville, before he left for his fateful journey to London, Hopkins cleared out his entire chamber, the very one you are now using.' Benjamin pointed to the fire flickering in the great hearth. 'He stripped his chamber of everything, and what he couldn't burn, he destroyed.' 'A strange act.'
    Benjamin shrugged. 'Perhaps he had a premonition about what might happen in London. Or maybe someone gave him a warning. Or perhaps he knew that Warnham and Calcraft in Buckingham's retinue were really the King's agents.' Benjamin sighed. 'Whatever, Master Hopkins took his secret to the grave.' He leaned closer. 'Roger,' he whispered, 'I wish to stay here, but you go back to your chamber, collect your boots, cloak and that broad-brimmed hat you wear. Sir John will leave within the hour. When he does, I want you to follow him from afar off. I know it will be hard in a snow-covered countryside