The Grail Murders

strode up and down in front of us, so angry he seemed impervious to the roaring flames of the fire.
    Tomorrow,' he began, 'we must go to Glastonbury. The snow lies thick but not deep enough to hinder justice.' He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 'I could ask where each of you were today but what's the use?'
    I glanced quickly at Sir John. Apart from Benjamin and I, he was the only one who had left the manor so his cloak and boots would have been covered in snow. Had he gone to Glastonbury or come back by a secret route to Templecombe to hide himself in the church? Or was the assassin already here? Could it have been one of the footpads who tried to ambush me earlier that day? I glanced up. Mandeville was staring at me as if trying to read my thoughts. 'We must be careful,' he murmured, drawing in deep breaths to calm himself. 'We must not start accusing each other of murder. Any one of your tenants, Sir John, and I mean no offence, could be the assassin. Perhaps Master Shallot is right, we must not forget that damned witch.'
    'She may know something, Sir Edmund,' Benjamin tactfully intervened. 'But the murderer of Cosmas and Damien must be in this household.'
    Mandeville agreed. 'Sir John, tomorrow morning at first light, I want all your servants gathered here in the main hall. And pray, sir, do not object. This is the King's business.'
    He pushed by the chairs and strode out of the hall. Benjamin nodded apologetically to Sir John, beckoned to me and hastily followed. Mandeville was already half-way up the stairs. 'Sir Edmund,' my master called, 'a word!' Mandeville looked down, his eyes glowing with a murderous rage.
    'Piss off, Daunbey! In there I have to be courteous but I'll never forget that you and that bloody rogue of a servant were the last to see my clerk alive!' He came back down the stairs. 'You think it's a game, don't you?' he snarled. 'I have lost two good men. Four, if you include Warnham and Calcraft.' Mandeville pushed his face only inches away from that of Benjamin. 'You may not like what we are, the King's agents, his tools, his spies. You may not even like the King, but he wears the Crown of the Confessor. A strong prince is infinitely better than ten strong princes fighting for the crown.'
    'I accept what you say,' Benjamin quietly replied. 'But that is not the matter at issue.'
    Mandeville looked away. 'You are right,' he breathed. 'It is not. I have lost many agents but Cosmas and Damien were like flesh and blood. I mourn their deaths.' 'Then, sir,' I exclaimed, 'it is a time for honesty!' I approached, shrugging off Benjamin's warning touch. 'We are the only ones you can trust. Warnham and Calcraft died before we ever entered this play. So let me ask you honestly, the man we met in Newgate wasn't Taplow, was he?'
    The anger drained from Mandeville's face. He beckoned us further down the gallery and into a window embrasure where no one could eavesdrop. He stared through the paned glass and smiled apologetically.
    'You are correct, Taplow died at Smithfield but the man you met was not him.' 'Why?' I asked. 'The King's orders.' 'And those letters Buckingham wrote?'
    Now Mandeville's face paled. He still had a flicker of morality in him.
    'Our King always wanted Buckingham dead, as did the Lord Cardinal. It was simply a matter of fitting a noose round his neck.' 'And Hopkins?' I insisted.
    'A stupid priest who may have been a secret Templar and had access to hidden knowledge.'
    'And the rest… the Grail, Excalibur, the Templars themselves?' 'Oh, that's all true.'
    'Come, Sir Edmund,' Benjamin mocked. 'Just tell us what is really true!'
    Mandeville leaned against the wall and ticked the points off on his fingers. 'First,' he whispered, 'the King wanted Buckingham dead. He was powerful, over mighty, had Yorkist blood in his veins. He also hated the King because of Henry's seduction of his sister. Secondly, Buckingham wanted those relics, the Grail and Excalibur. God knows why. Perhaps as curios, perhaps as a talisman he could use in some conspiracy against the King. Thirdly, Buckingham may not have been a traitor but he undoubtedly entertained treasonable thoughts, perhaps was a secret Templar. Fourthly, Hopkins was a conniving priest, a possible Templar, with an open distaste for our King. Fifthly, Taplow the tailor was a Lutheran, also involved in treasonable practices.' 'Such as?' I brusquely interrupted.
    'He had tenuous links with Buckingham and also with Master Hopkins. I admit the