The House of Shadows

crumb here, a crumb there. My brother would never have disappeared, not like that.’ He shook his head. ‘Not like smoke on a spring day, and the same goes for Mortimer. He truly loved his sister. I heard reports about Guinevere being seen here or there, but I dismissed them as lies. Then these,’ he gestured around, ‘these reunions, every year. Why were five knights of Kent, powerful Lords of the Soil, so eager to meet up with the likes of Master Rolles and Mother Veritable? Every year they came together, and I began to wonder. It was like the weather, little signs, but you know there’s a change. I used to wander this tavern, that’s how I discovered the mantrap. Like you, Brother Athelstan, I noticed the high-backed cart, the tavern’s many entrances, then the ring was found.’ He smiled dreamily at Athelstan. ‘I showed it to them and they didn’t even recognise it. The only thing I had from my brother,- that’s why I gave it to you, in fulfilment of a vow. I wanted it to be kept in a sacred place.’
    He leaned over and pulled the small coffer closer to him, gently caressing the top.
    ‘On the night of the Great Ratting, when those two whores were killed and the Misericord was being hunted, I made my decision. Oh yes, I had been to see His Grace the Regent. I wanted to clarify something. He knew who I was. Perhaps he suspected what I planned. He didn’t call me by my monkish name, but “Master Culpepper“. What passed between us is a matter for you and Sir John to find out. Yes, I did what I did, because I was compelled to. Innocent blood demands justice.’ He scraped back his chair. ‘No, Sir John, I’m not leaving. I want to view my dead.’
    Cranston and Athelstan followed him out of the solar. The coroner ordered the two knights to be guarded and shouted at the throng of servants and maids to stay in the tap room. They all retreated fearfully, stepping around the gruesome remains of their former master wrapped in their blood-stained cloth. Followed by Brother Malachi, Cranston and Athelstan went out into the garden, now ruined by the digging of the bailiffs: mounds of hard clay where the lawn had been ripped apart, flower beds and herb patches roughly dug up. To the left of the arbour stretched a long, deep pit. Flaxwith went over and pointed into it. Athelstan gazed down and closed his eyes at the pitiful scene.
    ‘The corpses must have been stripped,’ Cranston whispered. ‘Not even a burial shroud.’
    The skeletons lay like a collection of bones in a charnel house, one tossed on another, all flesh and hair rotted away. Athelstan could see no trace of clothing belt or boot, nothing to distinguish these five people sent to their deaths in such a hideous fashion.
    ‘I’ll make a full confession.’ Brother Malachi knelt down beside the pit, hands clasped. ‘I know my brother,- whatever they have done, I’ll still know my brother.’
    He lifted his head, tears spilling down his cheeks, an old man stricken to the heart by what he had seen and heard, no longer any smiles or taunting, just the heart-stopping pain of loss and grief.
    ‘In a way I thank you, Brother Athelstan. God’s judgement has been done. Don’t worry about me, I won’t flee. I am a priest. I will demand to be handed over to the church courts. Until then I will mourn for my brother.’
    Athelstan quickly blessed the pit and stepped away. Cranston ordered Flaxwith and his bailiffs to remove the skeletons and have them coffined.
    ‘Take them to St Mary-le-Bow,’ he ordered, and gestured at the Benedictine. ‘He may go with you but under strict guard. Brother Athelstan?’
    They returned to the solar. Sir Maurice and Sir Reginald had demanded a jug of wine and now sat cradling their goblets. Branson looked as if he was ill, but Sir Maurice was steely-eyed and determined.
    ‘You and Rolles,’ Athelstan reflected, studying that grim face. ‘You and Rolles must have been the prime movers. You have no pity, no conscience.’
    ‘I demand my rights.’ Sir Maurice spoke up. ‘Both Sir Reginald and I are knights of the shire. We demand to see His Grace the Regent.’
    Athelstan paused as he heard the sound of a horse leaving the stable yard. Going to the door, he asked what had happened, only to discover the head ostler had left on some urgent errand. Athelstan smiled to himself and came back into the room.
    ‘You have no authority!’ Sir Maurice yelled at Sir John.
    ‘I have every authority.’ Cranston walked