The Tarnished Chalice

Bartholomew raised the dagger, intending to hurl it at Hugh and force him to drop the bow, but Eleanor moved fast, and he saw something flash through the air. There was a resounding thump under his arm, and he jerked backwards, staggering against the brace near the hearth. It groaned alarmingly, and there was a short silence. Then Hugh laughed and Michael groaned in despair.

‘Did you mean to do that?’ asked Christiana of Eleanor, going to close the door. When Bartholomew recovered his wits sufficiently to understand what had happened, he found himself pinned to the pillar with a knife. It had passed under his elbow and caught the material of his tunic.

Eleanor grimaced. ‘I was aiming for his heart, but he moved. Still, he is rendered harmless, because my knife has nailed his arm to the wood, so the outcome is the same.’

Bartholomew flexed his hand to make sure she was wrong. It would not be difficult to rip himself free, but then she would hurl a second blade at him, and this time she might damage more than his clothes. He sagged slightly, trying to give the impression that he was injured, while his mind worked feverishly for a way out of the predicament. He could see none.

Michael’s face was white, and his voice was barely audible over Spayne’s heartbroken sobs. ‘Matt worked out what you had done, but I did not believe you capable of such wickedness.’

Eleanor glanced at Bartholomew. ‘What did you work out, exactly? You may as well tell us. We will not kill you as long as you are talking, and you are vain enough to think the delay may provide you with an opportunity to escape. What do you have to lose?’

‘Do not humour them, Matt,’ said Michael harshly. ‘Let them continue to wonder what you know and who else we have told about it.’

Hugh aimed his bow at the monk. ‘I will kill him if you do not answer, physician. Dame Eleanor says shooting evil men is good for my soul, so I am not afraid to do it.’

‘I know,’ said Bartholomew, deciding to accept the challenge. Lora might do what he had asked, and the longer he talked, the greater the chance of her arriving in time. ‘You shot Tetford, because he closed his tavern – you earned pennies as a pot-boy and did not want to lose the income. Since then, you have learned there is always a need for pot-boys, and that murder was unnecessary.’

‘He is a child,’ said Michael, joining in reluctantly. ‘And it did not occur to his unformed mind that the tavern would be taken over by another landlord. Then, of course, he realised he might do better under his brother than with Ravenser: John is always talking about looking after the family, and Hugh has high expectations. Did he tell you he shot Ravenser today?’

‘Did you?’ asked Eleanor, regarding the boy admonishingly. ‘You cannot go around killing for personal gain – only for greater purposes.’

Hugh was sullen. ‘Ravenser paid me less than his whores.’

‘You ordered Hugh to shoot Michael – after you had rendered the guard insensible so our knocks at the gate would go unheard,’ Bartholomew went on, ‘but Tetford happened to be with us, and the temptation was too much. You have created a monster.’

‘A soldier,’ corrected Hugh. ‘Not a monster. And I did not mean to shoot Tetford: he just got in the way. It was dark, and I could not see very well.’

‘And then you ran away,’ said Michael contemptuously. ‘You are happy to kill with bows, but too cowardly to fight with blades. No wonder no one has given you a sword. You do not deserve one.’

Hugh was outraged and his weapon started to come up. Eleanor pushed it down again. ‘Not yet. I want them to tell us what they know about Tetford.’

‘You were going to kill him anyway,’ said Bartholomew. ‘You had put poison in his wineskin – we found the secret supply Christiana keeps at Little Hugh’s tomb. You could have saved yourself the bother of the orchard ambush. Tetford offered that wine to Michael, and he would have swallowed it, if Hugh and Claypole had not loosed their arrows.’

Christiana frowned. ‘That was what Dame Eleanor originally intended: the two of them poisoned while toasting Tetford’s latest insincere attempt to be a good man.’

‘I was annoyed when Claypole and Hugh acted too soon,’ said Eleanor. ‘Tetford was a wicked young man, and I intended to prevent him from becoming a Vicar Choral in my cathedral. And I did not want you interfering with the saint’s will by exposing me, Brother, so you had to die, too.’

‘If you attacked us in the orchard, then you were also responsible for the episode at Holy Cross,’ said Michael. ‘The pattern was the same: two bowmen, someone with a sword and someone with a dagger. You three and Claypole. No wonder you did not best us. So, we know why you killed Tetford and attempted to dispatch me, but what about Father Simon? What had he done to incur your wrath?’

‘He engaged in skulduggery,’ said Eleanor angrily. ‘And I am tired of it. Hugh showed me the note he wrote, inviting Chapman to discuss the Hugh Chalice, so I decided to make an end of them both.’