The Grail Murders by Paul Doherty Page B

'that the Belamontes are cursed and that no good will come to us for the seizure of the Templar manors. My first husband died in a riding accident.' She grasped her second husband's hand. 'I took the name Santerre. Perhaps that will wipe out the curse.'
    'No curse, my Lady.' Mandeville spoke up. 'There is nothing under heaven which cannot be tracked down, trapped and killed. These are a treasonable coven.'
    My master abruptly changed the conversation, 'You said that Hopkins w as born in London?'
    'Yes,' Mandeville replied. 'Does he have any kin here?'
    'Yes, yes, an elder sister. A woman of faded beauty and slender means. And, no, Master Daunbey, before you ask, she was not party to her brother's treasonable activities.'
    My master pulled a face.
    'Why do you ask?' Wolsey demanded, his chin thrust forward aggressively.
    Benjamin gazed unblinkingly back whilst I studied these men, their hearts filled with arrogance and pride: the King and Wolsey were devils in silk, Mandeville and Southgate looked venom-mouthed, whilst the Santerres just sat like a row of candlesticks.
    What are you up to, I thought. Why was I provoked into that duel? And what will come of us? Does our fat King see us as mere crow pudding?
    'Dear Nephew, I asked you a question?'
    'I was just wondering,' Benjamin replied, 'you say Buckingham wrote to Taplow?'
    'I did.'
    'So Taplow must have carried messages to someone else?'
    'As I said, dear Nephew,' Wolsey pulled back the silken sleeves of his gown, 'members of this secret Templar brotherhood could be here at court.'
    'And could be responsible for the deaths of Calcraft and Waraham?*
    'Perhaps.'
    'It stands to reason they must be,' Benjamin continued remorselessly. 'Someone here in London killed your two agents, either as revenge or because they continued to meddle.'
    Wolsey smiled. 'You are most perceptive,' he murmured. 'Yes, yes, Warnham and Calcraft did believe a Templar lurked high in His Grace's Council, but whom we do not know. Master Taplow, who has been ruthlessly questioned, could not assist us.'
    'So why should we go to Templecombe?' Benjamin sharply asked. 'Dearest Uncle, you have your own agents.' He nodded at Mandeville and Southgate. 'And what guarantee do we have that we will not suffer the same fate as Warnham and Calcraft?'
    The King's face turned thunderously angry.
    'Because I want you to!' Wolsey intervened quickly, then closed the trap. 'Of course you will be rewarded - whilst the charge of treason, of duelling in the King's presence by Master Shallot will be dropped.' Wolsey spread his hands. 'Indeed, a pardon has already been drawn up.'
    If the fat bastard had not been glaring down at me I would have burst into peals of mocking laughter. Benjamin, God bless him, just sighed at how sly Tom Wolsey had trapped us.
    He smiled wanly. 'In which case, dear Uncle, we are as ever your most humble servants.'
    The atmosphere in the room lightened. Mandeville, that crow bait, leaned forward.
    'We shall be honoure d by your presence, Master Daun bey. Your assistance will, I am sure, be invaluable.'
    Wolsey tossed a red-ribboned scroll down the table towards his nephew. 'This is further information. You may study it at your leisure.'
    Another thinner scroll followed.
    'And that, Master Shallot, is your pardon for the killing of Robert Brognar.' Wolsey shrugged his shoulders. 'He was a city bully and will not be missed.' He smiled at me.
    Oh, no, I thought, poor Brognar won't be missed, you bull's-pizzle of a Cardinal: once I had drawn my sword I was guilty of treason. I took cold comfort in that wily Wolsey had probably intended Brognar to make a fool of me as well as involve me in treason. Instead I'd killed him, a sure protection against mockery though it made my 'crime' all the worse.
    Wolsey smiled and clapped his hands. 'These proceedings are now finished, dearest Nephew. You may withdraw.'
    Well, what more could I say? Benjamin and I trotted off back to our tower like well-trained lap dogs. I