The Treason of the Ghosts

about a
man not sleeping with his brother’s wife, animals, you know.’ Curate Robert
waved his hand. ‘I went through, translating the verses for him. Molkyn
listened very carefully then spun on his heel and walked out.’
    ‘And
why do you think he was so interested in Leviticus?’
    ‘I
don’t know.’
    ‘Didn’t
you ever wonder why a miller was so curious about obscure verses from the Old
Testament?’
    ‘Sir
Hugh,’ the curate replied, ‘if you knew how many odd requests are made of us... But, at the time, yes.’
    ‘Well,
here’s a strange thing...’ Corbett got to his feet and walked to the door
leading out to the garden. ‘We have a miller,’ he continued, ‘who couldn’t give
a fig about church. However, about the same time he became foreman of a jury
which would send a man to the gallows, he became very curious about obscure
verses from Leviticus. Now, wouldn’t you say, sirs,’ Corbett spoke over his
shoulder, ‘that the miller knew what God’s teaching was? Good Lord, the
humblest peasant in the kingdom, unlettered and unschooled, knows you don’t
sleep with your brother’s wife or his sheep or goat. So why should
Molkyn make his way up here and ask such a question?’ He turned and
stared.
    Grimstone
was still shaking. Curate Robert’s face was ashen. Burghesh stood mouth gaping.
    ‘We
could,’ Corbett whirled his fingers, ‘turn this round and round like a spinning
top. I wager if I went down to the Golden Fleece, no one would recall Molkyn
talking about scripture.’
    ‘What
are you implying?’ Parson Grimstone demanded querulously. ‘Sir Hugh, you go up
and down like a hare caught in the garden.’
    ‘This
is my theory,’ Corbett replied, ‘and I have yet to reflect on it. I think
Molkyn the miller was threatened. Someone brought verses from the Book of
Leviticus to his attention. Molkyn was frightened. A surly man, he wouldn’t
have given a pennyworth of flour for what people thought, but this was
different. So he comes up to this church. Molkyn’s no dullard. He doesn’t give
the actual chapter and verse but a whole collection of verses which he asks
Curate Robert to translate.’
    ‘And in that passage?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘In
that passage,’ Corbett replied, ‘was a warning: that’s what disturbed Molkyn.
It’s like me leaving a quotation from Scripture on the table beside Curate
Robert’s bed: Matthew’s Gospel, Chapter thirteen, Verse five. You’d be intrigued, wouldn’t you?’
    Curate
Robert nodded.
    ‘And
that’s interesting.’ Corbett smiled. He emphasised the points with his fingers.
‘Who would warn Molkyn the miller? Why should they warn him? And how many
people know the Book of Leviticus?’
    ‘You
are not accusing the priests, are you?’ Burghesh’s face flushed.
    ‘Hush,
man,’ Corbett remarked. ‘Even if I was, it wouldn’t make them murderers.’
    ‘No,
it doesn’t,’ Burghesh replied hotly. ‘I am tutored and schooled in the Bible.
So are many people in Melford: Sorrel can read; Deverell the carpenter; Master
Matthew the taverner—’
    ‘All
I am saying,’ Corbett interrupted, ‘is that someone said something to Molkyn
which disturbed him. It doesn’t make that person a murderer but it is
interesting.’
    ‘I
am confused.’ Parson Grimstone rested his head in his hands. ‘Sir Hugh, are
there any other questions? I don’t feel well.’ He got to his feet. ‘Master
Burghesh, if you could look after our visitors... Robert?’
    And,
without waiting for an answer, the priest, helped by the curate, left the
sacristy.
    ‘Is
Parson Grimstone a well man?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘Oh,
he’s well enough,’ Burghesh replied, picking up the Book of the Dead. He put it
back in the chest and secured the lock. ‘He’s a little older than me, past his
fifty-fifth summer, and sometimes his mind becomes forgetful.’
    ‘He
drinks, doesn’t he? Quite heavily?’
    Burghesh
got to his feet and came back.
    ‘Yes,
master clerk, he drinks. He’s a priest, he’s lonely, he’s made mistakes, he becomes confused. But, he has no woman, he does not dip his fingers into the poor box. He goes out at night to anoint
the dying. Parson Grimstone tries to be a good pastor but, yes, he drinks. In
his youth he was a very fine priest.’ Burghesh’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘A very scholarly man. He could have become an archdeacon,
even a bishop. He has a fine house but he lives sparsely as a soldier. His one
weakness is the claret, a petty