The False Virgin by The Medieval Murderers Page B

Cole said, peering carefully at it. ‘Someone has tried to force it.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ declared Frossard. ‘Perhaps poor Beornwyn just wants to be left in peace.’
    All eyes were on Cole as he took a dagger to the lock. It clicked open after a moment, and the lid sprang up.
    ‘There is nothing here except a piece of folded material,’ he said, upending the box and shaking it with more vigour than was appropriate for a reliquary, even an empty one.
    ‘There! What did I tell you?’ said Kediour in satisfaction. ‘There is no hand, and this pair are frauds.’
    ‘No!’ Horrified, Frossard snatched the box to look for himself. ‘The hand is stolen! What shall we tell Whitby?’
    ‘Surely you mean Whitland?’ said Kediour, watching him closely. ‘That is where you claimed you were heading yesterday.’
    ‘He said Whitland,’ said Reinfrid. ‘You misheard. But how could this have happened? Beornwyn granted Carmarthen a miracle and look at how she is repaid – her relic stolen
and a murder at her spring! What kind of town is this?’
    ‘When did you last see the hand?’ asked Cole, speaking quietly to calm him.
    ‘Last night,’ replied Frossard. ‘We came out here to pray with Mayor Rupe, and then we returned to the castle to sleep. It must have been stolen from us there, probably by the
same person who killed the deputy.’
    Cole regarded him icily. ‘There are no thieves in my house. Are you sure you went there? And before you answer, be aware that my soldiers keep a record of who comes and goes after dark.
Any tale you tell will be checked.’
    ‘Well, perhaps we did pass the night in a tavern instead,’ admitted Frossard reluctantly. ‘And the relic was with us . . .’
    Kediour’s patience was at an end. ‘How many more lies must we hear from this pair? They have no relic, and there is nothing to prove they ever did. It is obvious what happened: Miles
guessed they were imposters and threatened to expose them. So they killed him.’
    ‘No!’ cried Reinfrid, appalled. ‘We are monks, men of God.’
    Kediour promptly embarked on a detailed interrogation about Ramsey Abbey, and it quickly became apparent that neither had ever been there.
    ‘They are liars,’ stated Kediour, as the pair stuttered into silence. ‘They claim the saint’s hand is stolen from them, but look at their reliquary – it is silver.
Do they really expect us to believe that a thief took a cluster of old bones but left such a precious chest?’
    ‘But it is what happened,’ objected Rienfrid. ‘It—’
    ‘Arrest them both, Cole,’ ordered Avenel. ‘The prior is right: they murdered Miles when he threatened to expose their dishonesty. I shall enjoy seeing them hang.’
    The townsfolk were shocked and silent as soldiers marched the two tricksters away, both howling their innocence.
    Rupe quickly recovered his wits. He had not survived so long in the turbulent world of politics without learning the skill of turning a disaster to his advantage.
    ‘Beornwyn was petitioned and she sent us rain,’ he declared. ‘It does not matter that the monks are charlatans. The fact is that she graced us with a spring, and will be
pleased by the shrine we are building. If we continue, she may send another storm.’
    ‘That is true,’ nodded Odo. ‘The stars are favourable to such a scheme at the moment. I read them myself last night. We should persist with our chapel, and pray at
Beornwyn’s spring – the
real
sign that she is among us.’
    Kediour tried to reason with them, but Rupe’s voice was louder, and people were more inclined to listen to promises of miracles than denunciations, so he soon gave up. The people went back
to their building, led by Mayor Rupe singing a psalm.
    ‘I do not know how to convince them,’ said the prior in despair. ‘The spring does
not
come from Heaven – I feel it in my very bones – and it grieves me to
see people led spiritually astray. I am glad Rupe will not be mayor for much