The Butcher of Avignon Read Online Free Page B

there was a fight with the devil and out of malice he killed the thief by sucking his blood,’ said another.
    ‘Who was this thief?’
    Opinions came thick and fast: it was the pope’s own chaplain, turned mad, or, it was a stable lad, thieving, or no, said others, it was the pope’s food-taster, disgruntled because of his poor pay, and on. Stories, embroidered and plain, passed rapidly about the crowded chamber.
    The sooner the pope’s inner circle announce a few facts the better, Hildegard thought. Glad to leave them to their speculations she made her way to the exit.
    **
    Her duties in return for her bed and board in the palace were light. They involved presence at prayers in the visitors’ chapel to lend piety to the lay members’ devotions, a few domestic tasks quickly done, and attendance on an old monk who had so far slept most of the time in his small cell and had only asked her to prop a heavy book or two onto his reading stand.
    So far she knew little about him. It was the house steward who had assigned her to him and he pretended a difficulty in the language that prevented him telling her more.
    Now she made her way to the monk’s cell where he was still, no doubt, sleeping away his final years.
    She was wrong.
    He was sitting upright at his reading stand and glanced up with an alert expression when she appeared in the doorway.
    ‘I have heard the news, domina.’
    For a moment she was confused. ‘Already? You’ve heard about the theft?’
    ‘Theft? No, I’ve heard nothing of any theft. I mean about the arrivals from England. I understand a retainer to Prince Thomas of Woodstock arrived shortly before dawn?’
    ‘Indeed. A Sir John Fitzjohn.’
    ‘After a hard ride through enemy territory?’ The old man gave her a piercing glance. ‘What can bring him to face such dangers, might one ask?’
    Hildegard had scant idea where his sympathies lay. He would be a Clementist, obviously, but did he regard Clement’s warmongering with sympathy? Until she knew more she would remain non-committal.
    ‘This Thomas of Woodstock, we are led to believe, is familiar with the rivalries between the French King and his dukes. I understand he campaigned on behalf of the duke of Brittany not long ago. What do you imagine his representative is doing here?’
    Hildegard shook her head. ‘I was surprised to see him arrive. I have no idea what he wants.’
    ‘He wants something. We agree on that?’
    ‘Such is the way of things, magister.’
    He gave a thin smile. ‘Maybe he seeks to further an alliance with his holiness Pope Clement on behalf of his old companion in arms, the duke of Brittany?’
    Hildegard showed no emotion. Was that all it meant? Woodstock in alliance with Brittany? A feeling of relief seeped through her. That was old news and the alliance had led nowhere. Could it be as the old monk suggested and be no plot against King Richard after all?
    ‘Ha!’ He exclaimed with satisfaction. ‘No surprise, domina? What other reason can he have of presenting himself to Our Holy Father?’
    ‘I can’t think of anything, magister.’
    Athanasius gave her a sceptical glance. ‘Really? You can’t think of anything? Well, well.’
    Hildegard waited but the old man said nothing more and she was left in as much uncertainty as before.
    ‘Tell me then about this theft. What was stolen and from whom?’
    ‘I’ve no idea what was stolen. The news concerns an interloper inside the pope’s treasury.’
    He managed to look mildly astonished. ‘Inside? What was he doing there? Did he give an account of himself?’
    ‘I hasten to say this is only rumour, but when pope Clement announced that the thief had received his just desserts, it was assumed that he was killed, probably by the guards.’
    ‘Did he kill to get inside?’
    ‘Was killed, before getting outside, so the story goes.’
    The monk crossed himself. ‘Is there more?’ Sharp eyes scrutinising her face.
    ‘Wild rumours but nothing known for certain