The Tarnished Chalice

‘I see why you deplore Chapman,’ said Michael. ‘I dislike relic-sellers myself. But Simon-’

‘Chapman is not a relic-seller,’ said Eleanor. ‘He is a felon who sells stolen goods for Miller. Worse yet, he dared lay his sinful hands on the Hugh Chalice! When my henbane salve did not work, Christiana arranged for John to take him some wine instead. There has been nothing but theft and wickedness ever since the cup made its appearance, and it is demeaning. St Hugh does not approve.’

Bartholomew flexed his elbow. The material was pinned very firmly to the wood, and he was not sure he could free it without anyone noticing. The brace creaked and Eleanor glanced sharply at him. He tried to look helpless, hoping she would not come and inspect her handiwork. ‘And you think he approves of murder?’ he asked, to distract her.

‘It is not murder,’ she said firmly. ‘It is justice.’

‘And I suppose “justice” led you to poison Herl and Flaxfleete, too,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The toxin is an unusual one. Did you read about it when you were trying to understand how Ursula had killed Christiana’s mother?’ Eleanor inclined her head. ‘And I suppose you murdered Herl because you learned he had duplicated the Hugh Chalice?’

She nodded a second time. ‘He tried to sell me a copy. And Aylmer was on the verge of stealing the real one-’

‘So, you stabbed him in the back,’ said Bartholomew. ‘We thought it was someone who either took him by surprise or who he did not expect to hurt him. Both are true in your case. Sabina said he was killed with his own dagger. You grabbed it and knifed him before he knew what was happening.’

‘The pity of it is that Aylmer belonged to a fraternity dedicated to placing the chalice in the cathedral,’ said Michael. ‘As did Simon. Aylmer contrived to be at the Gilbertine Priory to help Simon, not to steal from him.’

‘He was holding it when I caught him,’ objected Eleanor. ‘He had taken it from Simon’s bag and it was cradled in his hands. Everyone else was in the chapel, so it looked suspicious, to say the least. And I acknowledge that this fraternity was dedicated to the chalice, but it was not selfless. Simon wanted it presented at a ceremony that would glorify him, and Flaxfleete intended to present an ostentatious reliquary at the same time. It was wrong.’

‘I know how you killed Flaxfleete,’ said Michael. ‘The keg was not poisoned when it sat by the door of the Swan, as we assumed, but when it was still in the cellar. The inn is owned by Christiana, so she can come and go as she pleases.’

Bartholomew’s legs were beginning to shake from standing at an awkward angle, and he shifted his weight. The roof creaked, and he had a sudden memory of Michael leaning against the sapling in the Gilbertines’ garden when he was interrogating Chapman. He wondered whether he could bring down the roof. But then he and Michael would die, too. So would Spayne, who had said nothing since his sister’s murder, and who sat with his eyes glazed in helpless shock.

‘You might have killed the entire Guild,’ Michael went on. ‘Although when you poisoned Herl’s ale – also in the Swan – you were more careful.’

‘All for St Hugh,’ said Eleanor. ‘I am weary of evil men, but no matter how many I dispatch, there are always more to take their places. I started with the sinister Canon Hodelston, during the plague-’

‘Lungspee said Hodelston’s death took the feud to a new level of violence,’ interrupted Michael accusingly. ‘And I suppose next on your list was Fat William, who died eating oysters.’

‘Fat William was a glutton who ate food designated for the poor, but he was not the second or even the third. However, I have learned all I need from you now. It is time to end this.’

‘We are going to set a fire,’ chirped Hugh. ‘And you will all die in it.’

‘St Hugh would be appalled by what you have done in his name,’ said Michael. ‘It is time to stop.’

‘I cannot,’ said Eleanor. ‘Not as long as my saint’s city is infested with sinners. Shoot them, Hugh. Michael first.’

Hugh raised his bow and Bartholomew saw he could not fail to miss. He leaned as hard as he could on the post. There was a low groan.

‘The roof!’ cried Spayne, in a voice that cracked with tension and distress. ‘Do not lean on the brace – the ceiling will cave in!’

Bartholomew pushed harder and beams began to sag.

‘Stop!’ screamed Eleanor. ‘Hugh! Shoot him!’

Hugh was more interested in ducking away from the clumps of plaster that were dropping around him. He dropped his bow and scampered this way and that, like a rat in a cage. With a bellow of fury, Christiana dived for the weapon and snatched it up herself. Summoning every last ounce of his strength, Bartholomew shoved the pillar until it popped out of its holdings and crashed to the floor. It dragged him with it, so Christiana’s shot went wide.

‘Run!’ he yelled to Michael, trying to free himself.

The monk leapt to his feet as timbers fell.