You mean bodies were dragged away, I presume? Yes, my lord. There is a great hole close to that point, a vertical chasm that the people hereabouts call the Devils Pit. It falls straight down into the earth and appears to have no bottom, and local legend says it simply appeared there one night, back in the time of my grandsires grandsire. My captain believed the bodies had been thrown down there and were beyond recovery.
And had they?
One of them had. The woman. And with her body, the priests head.
The priests head Richard was frowning. What happened to the rest of him? And who was the woman?
No one knows who the woman was, my lord. No one has asked after her or come looking for her, and none of our local women are missing. All the women within a circle of twenty miles from here have been accounted for. It would appear safe to say she was not from these parts.
It would be equally safe to say she might not have existed at all, save in the mind of her creator, Sir André St. Clair The Duke forestalled Sir Henrys protest with a chopping motion of one hand. I am not saying I believe that to be true, Henry, but were you and I judges, seeking the truth, we would have no choice but to consider that. With no proof of this womans death, and no faintest knowledge of her identity, there is no evidence, other than the word of your son, that she ever existed at all. Even were she a stranger, she must have come here to visit someone, and her disappearance would have given rise to questions. So we will come back to that matter. Now tell me about the priests body, headless as it was.
The body of the priest was presented as evidence that the poor fellow had been murdered by my son.
Explain that.
Sir Henry St. Clair nodded his head in acquiescence.
From what I have been able to piece together, my liege, the three miscreants stole the bodies, cut off their dead companions head, and threw it into the Devils Pit along with the woman. They then took his body back with them because he had a deformed hand that identified him beyond doubt as one Father Gaspard de Leon, a visiting priest from Arles. They then told a tale of how, on their way to join their nowdead brother, they had witnessed him in the act of apprehending a sinner in the act of committing sodomy with a young boy
Pardon me, de Sablé began, but Richard waved him to silence.
Go on, Henry. Were you about to say they accused young André of sodomy with a boy?
Aye, my lord. I was.
Say on, then. Tell me.
They said that they had seen the scandalized priest challenge the pederast and attempt to save the boy, but the sodomite had sent the boy scurrying away and then seized his sword and killed Father de Leon, cleaving his skull. He had then cut off the priests head and taken it away with him, wrapped in de Leons priestly garments, leaving a naked, unidentifiable body behind him. He had not seen them, they said, being separated from them by the swollen river.
As soon as he had gone, they made their way to the bridge and back to the scene of the murder, then followed the tracks of the killers horse down the hillside to the Devils Pit, where they arrived in time to see him throw the severed head down into the abyss. Fearful for their own lives, they hid and waited until the killer left, then made their way directly to the castle of their landlord, Baron Reynauld de la Fourrière, and testified under oath to him, and to their superior, Abbot Thomas, about what they had seen, and adding that one of them, the priest called de Blois, had recognized the murderer, a local knight called André St. Clair.
St. Clair looked from one to the other of his listeners, both of whom sat stone faced. When he saw that they had nothing to say, he continued. I found out all about this the morning after, when a squad of Baron de la Fourrières men came hammering on my door, demanding that I surrender my son to answer the charges of sodomy and murder brought against him. Fortunately, André had left before they came, and I sent a messenger to find him, warning him to stay away.
St. Clair looked from one to the other of his listeners, both of whom sat stone faced. When he saw that they had nothing to say, he continued. I found out all about this the morning after, when a squad of Baron de la Fourrières men came hammering on my door, demanding that I surrender my son to answer the charges of sodomy and murder brought against him. Fortunately, André had left before they came, and I sent a messenger to find him, warning him to stay away.
Sodomy. Richards voice was flat and hard. They accused André of sodomy?
Aye, my lord. They did.
And you did nothing? I find that hard to credit.
What could I do? For that matter, what could they do? André was beyond their reach at that time, and I knew I needed to make sure he stayed there, for I saw no hope of his receiving justice in this matter in the verdict of the Church. I asked myself what man of goodwill, in his right mind, would publicly give consideration to the possibility that three distraught priests might have beheaded their companion and disposed of his head to protect themselves, or that the single man accused in this case, who made no denial of having killed the dead man, might be telling the truth when he condemned his three priestly accusers for the rape and the murder of an innocent girl?
And so I have not set eyes on my son or spoken with him since.
Not once? Why not?
Because I dare not, my liege. I am watched constantly and, with very few exceptions, I know not whom to trust. There is a price on my sons head, sufficiently high to tempt any man to turn him over to the Church and what it must see as justice.
Sir Robert de Sablé glanced at Richard. May I speak, my liege?
Of course you may. Speak up.
It unsettles me that the woman has not been either identified or claimed, or even reported missing. I find that to be not merely incredible but deeply troubling, for much of it makes nonsense of both sides of this sorry tale. He looked directly at St. Clair. Have you discussed this with your son at all?
St. Clairs headshake was brief. No. When first he told me of it, her identity did not appear to have great import. The urgency for me at that moment lay in taking immediate steps to retrieve her body, and her assailants. There should have been ample time thereafter to establish who she was. But then the bodies vanished, and that set everything at odds.
But surely
Surely we should have discussed it later, is that what you were about to say? We would have, without fail, but la Fourrières people arrived soon after dawn the following morning and by then André was already gone.
Hmm De Sablé looked down at his hands and then back to his host. I trust you will believe me when I say I have no wish to cast doubts upon what you have told us, Sir Henry, but much of this affair, as I see it, bears upon the total absence of this womans body and the apparent fact that no one has stepped forward to enquire about a missing woman. That, in itself, speaks strongly on behalf of your sons accusers, as I am sure you are aware. So I must ask you this, because your sons accusers will present it as their case: is it possible, or is it even remotely probable, that there never was a woman there and that these priests are telling the truth? Might not your son, taken in a guilty and forbidden act, have panicked and done murder to protect himself? And then might he not have taken the step of beheading the priest to conceal the true nature of the mans fatal wounds? If that were the case, then, he might easily have lied about the supposed woman and lied to cover up his own guilt and save his own life.
Richard laughed aloud, interrupting his earnest vassal, and as de Sablés eyes opened wide in astonished protest, the Duke rose swiftly to his feet and turned his back on both men, walking away only to swing around again and lean forward against the high back of his own chair.
Then wheres the boy, Robert, the boy who was being buggered? Think you a gaggle of mortified priests would not have turned this county of Poitou upside down to find the little bratand all of Anjou and Aquitaine too, should that have been requiredmerely to prove their case beyond all doubt? He grinned. Besides, its evident you know nothing at all about young André St. Clair. I do. I knighted him myself three years ago, and he was foremost among all my candidates that year, and most other years, to tell truth. I found him honest, upstanding, courageous to a fault, and utterly, completely masculine in every aspect of his character. I swear to you, Robert, I have never met and nor could youa more unlikely pederast. André lacks nothing in charm and seductive powers, but it is all of it reserved exclusively for women, and he has never suffered from any lack of those. So let there be an end of this nonsense. The priests are lying, and I feel sure God in His Heaven is amazingly unsurprised. And as for the missing head, were it to be produced in evidence, transfixed from crown to chin with a bolt that obviously fell on it, it might cast the priestly version into doubt, would you not agree? He glanced from one to the other. Surely both those points are self-evident?
I would find it far more interesting to know how André knew precisely how to aim that shot he loosed? It was no accident, I swear, for though fate may play a part in where a cast shot falls, it takes skill and unerring confidence to cast it perfectly in the first place. I doubt I could have done what he did, so smoothly and unerringly. I will have to speak with him about it as soon as may be.
Neither man responded to that, although both were now convinced, through Richards expostulations, of André St. Clairs innocence of homosexuality, and therefore of all the charges against him. For there could be no doubting the Dukes championship of the younger man, it being known, but seldom openly discussed, that Richard shunned the company of women and surrounded himself at all times with young and comely men and boys of his own persuasion. It was the single aspect of Richards character that repelled the staid St. Clair most profoundly. He found himself marveling now that he could ever be grateful for it.
Now, however, the regal Duke was leaning towards him, frowning and pointing an admonitory finger. So, Richard said, more softly than his frown had led Henry to expect, we agree that this nonsense of the priests is tomfoolery, and murderous tomfoolery at that. But before I decide what I must now do, there is one more thing I require of you, for Robert is right. The matter of the woman troubles me, too. Bring in your son, Henry, and do it tonight. I have a need to talk with him, and no one will dare accost him here, with me present. He crossed to where the two long swords lay on the arms of the chair, tossing de Sablés to him and hefting his own like a walking staff. Now it is late, and Robert and I will need some sleep before we make such a momentous decision as is in my mind, so take us to where we can lay our heads, my friend, and then send for the boy. Have him here when we awake and we will talk with him after we three have broken fast.