The Relic Murders

doorway was empty. Cornelius put his sword and dagger away and came forward, hands extended.
    'I meant no offence, Shallot. Nor to you, Master Daunbey. However, if you are innocent of this crime then so am I.' He pointed to the dog. 'I wonder if he could help?'
    After three more sweetmeats, Castor would have climbed to the moon if I had asked him. Back round the house he went. He noticed nothing amiss in the upper chambers: only becoming excited when he found a scrap of food, a piece of chicken leg lying in the corner of a hearth.
    After that it became a game: a search for food. We returned to the lower gallery, but Castor refused to go into the parlour where the corpses were now stiffening under their bloody sheets. He crouched in the doorway and whined, looking beseechingly up at me. I stayed with him whilst Benjamin and Cornelius inspected the corpses. Now and again I glanced away as they pulled down sheets to display a bloody face, a chest smashed in by a crossbow bolt or a head lolling because of the deep gash in the neck.
    Benjamin, however, scrutinised the corpses carefully, feeling the suppleness of their hands and legs, loosening belts, pulling up jerkins. At first, Cornelius was mystified until he realised what my master was looking for. 'They were all young men,' he remarked.
    'Yes, yes,' Benjamin replied absentmindedly. 'The flesh is cold but the limbs still have a certain suppleness. What time did we enter this morning?'
    'Somewhere between seven and eight o'clock,' Cornelius replied.
    'I think they were killed six or seven hours earlier,' Benjamin said. 'The blood has not yet thickened, the limbs haven't stiffened and there's no sign of poisoning.' He pointed to the chest of one man. 'Most potions leave some red or mulberry stain on the chest or stomach. There's none here.'
    They covered the corpses and we returned to the kitchen. Castor, smelling the food, immediately became excited. He went towards the cooking pot hanging over the hearth sniffing at it appreciatively. I dipped my finger in and tasted it.
    One of Egremont's retainers came in to report that the cooks were at the gatehouse. We left the kitchen and passed the open door to the cellar. Castor immediately sprang down, like a ferret into a rabbit hole. We followed down the steps. The dog was waiting for us, legs apart, head up, eyes bright as if this was part of the game. Benjamin was intrigued by the dog's excitement. I gave Castor a sweetmeat and told him to go back up the steps which he did. The cellar had a plaster roof, brick walls on either side and an earth-beaten floor. The three of us began to examine and tap the brickwork. However, if we entertained any hopes of finding some secret passageway or door we were disappointed.
    (It's different now, of course. Due to the persecution of the Catholic priests, every great house has caverns, trap doors and hiding-holes. I have at least three here. There should be four but I've forgotten where one of them was put! They were all built by that Jesuit lay brother, Nicholas Owen, a little man with a cheery face, God's own carpenter. Elizabeth's master spy caught him. Poor Nicholas went to the Tower, Topcliffe the executioner racked him so much his body had to be pinned together before they could take him away and hang him. He left a great legacy, did Owen, secret rooms and chambers up and down the kingdom. It will be hundreds of years before they are all discovered!) Benjamin and Cornelius gave up in disgust. 'What made that dog so excited?' Benjamin asked. I kicked at the floor. 'Perhaps something here, master?'
    Benjamin agreed. Servants were summoned and, armed with shovel and pick, hacked at the floor. Benjamin was very careful. He ordered another servant to bring down sacks and the earth was carefully placed in it. 'I've found something!' one of them cried.
    Benjamin pushed him aside and, crouching down, stared into the great, yawning hole. He leaned down and picked up a piece of yellowing fabric, covered in dirt and crumbling with age. He took the shovel from the groom and dug more carefully. We were forced back on to the steps as the cellar floor was turned into a gaping hole. Straining our necks we could see that Benjamin had unearthed a rolled-up piece of cloth.
    At last it was all free. We carried it upstairs where Benjamin carefully unrolled it. In its prime, the cloth had been one of those thick tapestries that hung on a wall. Now it was faded, stained and contained its own grisly