Chapter Twenty-Six
Linnet brought the little bag of scraps over to the Scriptorium when Luke was next away, and opened the household book on the desk. It was difficult to match each scrap with a torn edge and she soon realised she had fewer scraps than edges.
She moved them around, trying them in turn against each one.
The first one to fit was from a few months ago.
She was sure the first letter was a G – and when she matched it to one of the scraps she could see ‘Godfreyd’ and ‘amor homin’.
The latter had a dot next to it – a shortening.
‘Amor’ was love. Could ‘homin’ be man or manly?
That would fit with what she’d discovered herself.
It suddenly became plain – Oswyn had been making private notes in his book, and he must have found this the best way to keep it away from prying eyes. He’d written in a tiny hand, and then torn the edges off but kept them. He must have thought it was the safest way to keep them hidden.
Excited, she put that scrap carefully aside, marked the edge of that page with a tiny dot to signify she’d read it, and moved on to the next torn edge.
This was harder. The page itself was partly ripped, and it had become damp.
The letter that started the note had a loop, perhaps part of a ‘B’ or an ‘R’.
When she found the matching scrap though, it was a ‘P’.
Prius furtum pecunia. Was that the Prior?
She puzzled about that for a while. Furtum like furtively? Hiding perhaps? She wished her Latin was better. It was fine for copying but there was so much she didn’t know. She made a promise to herself that she would try and learn more from the monks if she could.
Her examinations were brought to an abrupt halt when she heard shouting and went outside. Two of the grooms were running into the inner courtyard, calling for help.
She followed them back to the stable door where she saw a small throng staring at something inside.
A monk was lying face down, not moving on the ground, very near one of the horses.
Had he been struck by the horse’s hooves?
The horse was pressed against the stable wall, breathing heavily, its flanks damp with sweat and flecks of foam at its mouth.
The Prior came out of his parlour and pushed his way to the front.
He called for one of the grooms to lead the horse away before he gently turned the monk over.
The man was bloodied and bruised but he groaned as he was turned.
Alive. He didn’t open his eyes and he seemed to be struggling to breathe.
She could see cuts on his face, blood streaming over his features.
It took Linnet a few minutes to recognise this bloodied heap as someone she knew well – Luke. She shrank back, memories of the night when Maykin died coming back again, his screaming, the blood, the gasping of his final words.
The Prior stood back. ‘An accident. It seems Brother Luke has disturbed the horse in some way. Take him to the Infirmary and fetch Brother Godfreyd.’
Cassian and another monk came forward to carry Luke, who hung like a soiled cloth between them. Godfreyd had arrived and was looking at Luke thoughtfully. He told the men to lay him on the bed nearest the Infirmary door.
There was a sudden scream from the crowd. Lady Margaret had pushed her way through and had seen Luke covered in blood, being carried to the Infirmary. Guy came from behind the stables, and quickly led her away.
The Inspector was watching it all too, with a look of disdain.
Linnet felt Isabelle arrive by her side, prodding her and whispering something. She couldn’t hear her so they found a quiet corner and the child said, ‘That weren’t a horse what did that to Brother Luke. I know it.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I ain’t never seen that horse get afeard or mardy. Not even once, not even when Pol sat on him.’
Linnet felt suspicious too, doubt forcing its way up through her shock.
But who would want to hurt Luke and why?
She knew Godfreyd was using him, surely he wouldn’t want to hurt him.
But after all, he’d put Isabelle in danger so maybe he would.
She remembered Guy coming out from behind the stables.
Did he really think she and Luke were together?
Did he still care about her so that he would harm others?
Was it Cassian? What had Brother Benedict told him that time he’d pointed at Luke in the Chapter House?
After all the commotion died down, the Prior sent across the two monks who were now to be assigned to the Scriptorium.
Without Luke there, Linnet could have the monks working as she wished.
They started script on scraps of parchment so she could see their hand before she gave them each a quire to copy.
They talked quietly about Luke for a few minutes, praying for his swift recovery, before settling down to their new tasks.
She couldn’t go back to Oswyn’s book with them there, so she put it to the back of her mind.
But seeing Luke’s body, and fearing him dead, had raised all her questions again about Tom’s hanging, Maykin’s accident and Oswyn’s drowning.
She shivered at the thought of another death.
There must be a connection between it all.
The elder of the two monks, Father Thomas, was about sixty, and thankful to be doing easier work than in the gardens where he had spent a lot of his time. Neither of them could read especially well, but if she read it out to them, they understood the Latin well enough.
Linnet took advantage of their knowledge by compiling a brief Latin manual as they talked, and then saw how it could be very helpful.
‘What’s pecunia?’ she asked.
‘We don’t see any of that now!’ Father Thomas was pleased with his jest. ‘It’s money or coins.’
‘And furtum?’
‘Thieving. That’s thieving.’ He looked worried then, glancing down at his quire. ‘Does it say it here? I can’t see it.’
She reassured him it was from another book and they went back to their scribing.
Thieving… money…? Prius – that must be prior. Did it mean the Prior was a thief? If so, Oswyn would have known, which made him a danger. If Oswyn was threatening to betray the Prior to the Inspector, that would be reason enough to kill him. But what about Tom? Why Tom?
She remembered Tom talking about seeing two monks quarrelling the night before Oswyn died.
Had he overheard something he shouldn’t have done – and had he been seen?
And she still wasn’t sure if that was the same quarrel she had seen, Oswyn and Cassian.
Thinking of him and now here he was, coming into the Scriptorium to see Father Thomas.
‘The Prior said you could help me with my lessons.’ He was brusque, passing on an order. The older monk graciously made space next to him at his desk, and set him on one of the lessons, patient and friendly with him.
‘And what were you doing afore you became a novice then, Cassian?’
‘Carpenter.’ Cassian didn’t look up as he looked down at the words, scowling at them.
‘And do you have a family, are they missing you now you’re in the order?’
‘Ah no, my folks dinna make old bones. Nor my wife either.’
Father Thomas crossed himself and said a quiet prayer. Cassian smiled in thanks, and patted the old man’s hand.
They settled in to the lesson, Father Thomas enjoying the teaching, and Cassian calm at his words for once.
It was the first time Linnet had seen him closely since the time he had the fit.
She wondered if the Inspector knew of his affliction.
He couldn’t have said anything about Tom’s sin to the Prior or the Inspector.
If he had, there would be a flurry of searching and questioning.
Did he know it was Godfreyd? No, she’d not used his name when she was cursing Tom, so Cassian couldn’t have heard that, but again, she thought of Benedict and the way he had pointed to Luke.
She studied him while he was busy with his work, seeing those shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his hands, more fresh cuts. She thought again of Luke, but why would Cassian want to harm him? She needed to find out more about the monks.