The Grail Murders

'What was that?'
    'If they wanted to kill you,' she whispered, 'they would have done. We have no quarrel with you or your master. They simply wanted to frighten you.' She grasped me by the hand. 'Please, Roger, leave my father be.' She stared through the window. 'This place is full of ghosts,' she murmured. 'And the Templars?'
    She lowered her head. I pulled out my short stabbing dagger and held it between my fingers.
    'Nothing in life is free,' I whispered. 'You and your father are no threat to me but those you work for..’
    Mathilda shook her head. I sheathed my dagger and got to my feet.
    'Wait!' she seized my wrist. 'Roger, we are small fleas on a very big dog. We take our orders, issued here and there in a whisper.' 'And where does the dog live?' I asked.
    Mathilda peered fearfully down into the garden and got to her feet. 'If you wish to meet the dog,' she whispered, 'You'll find him on the island.' And she slipped like a ghost into the shadows and ran down the gallery.
    I stood staring out of the window into the shifting, cloying mist and wondered about Mathilda's ghosts trooping back to their worm-eaten beds. I had learnt enough so returned to my own chamber, secured the lock and, fully clothed, lay down for a fitful sleep.

Chapter 12
    The next morning we rose early and broke our fast hastily in the hall for, despite the grisly warning issued the night before, Southgate was determined on a morning's hunting though Bowyer was still suffering the effects of being too deep in his cups. Mandeville, imperious as ever, ignored us as he issued instructions to a bleary-eyed sheriff to send for more men. His attitude towards Santerre was distinctly cool.
    As we went out towards the stables I heard Sir Edmund whisper to Santerre that the matters at Templecombe were beyond his brief: he would plan his return to London where he would advise the King to send Justices into the area. If he expected this to frighten Sir John he succeeded. When the King's Justices came south they would arrive with troops and issue writs raising levies from the surrounding countryside, empanel juries, collect evidence, and not move away until the matter was settled. Santerre was about to protest but Mandeville dismissed him with a curt move of his gloved hand.
    These matters will wait!' he snapped. Today we hunt, tomorrow we go.'
    The rest of the party were waiting for us in a courtyard full of yapping dogs; long, lean greyhounds, black, white and brindled. They stood straining at their leashes whilst, on the other side of the yard, a pack of mastiffs whimpered in protest at the muzzles on their grizzled snouts and the lash of their whippers-in. Maids hurried round with cups of hot posset, stable boys and ostlers shouted as horses were brought out, saddled and made ready to mount. Southgate's and Bowyer's were fiery, hot-tempered, rearing and kicking the air with sharpened hooves. It took some time for their masters to curb them.
    At last we all mounted, downing one final cup of posset whilst the huntsmen were sent on before us, the barking of the dogs shattering the silence of the cold country air.
    No more snow had fallen, the sky was still overcast but the air was crisp and a little warmer. We left by the back gate of the manor following a trackway through a wood. At first, we rode together but the freshness of the horses, particularly Bowyer's and Southgate's, meant we had to break up. We cleared the trees and stopped on the brow of a small hill which fell down to snow-covered fields, broken here and there by small copses and woods. The trackers and beaters were already there and in a flurry of snow, shouts, cries and yelping barks, the hunters moved down to meet them.
    Roger and I hung back on the hill, watching the rest of the party go into a wood. There was a short silence then the dogs' barking grew into a raucous row; shouts and the shrill of hunting horns carried clear to us as a fat buck, together with two hinds, galloped from the trees and across the meadow in a flurry of snow. Santerre sounded the horn and led the excited hunters down the hill. The buck had already cleared one field. Behind him the dogs raced like dark shapes against the snow. The hunt was on.
    It is difficult to describe exactly what happened. We were a party of horsemen charging down the hill. Santerre, the chief huntsman, Bowyer, Southgate, Mandeville, Benjamin and myself, Lady Beatrice and Rachel having declined to come. Bowyer and Southgate were the first