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Authors: The Medieval Murderers
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stream.’
‘At night?’ queried Gwenllian.
‘I asked the same thing: he said he prefers to work without an audience. I told him to forget wild theories and concentrate on the thieves, but I doubt he will oblige. He wants to impress
you with an endless supply of water. The wretched man is head over heels in love with my wife, and I was the last one to know it.’
Later that night there was a colossal clap of thunder, so loud that Cole was not the only one who thought the castle was under attack from war machines. He and Gwenllian stood
at the window, watching lightning illuminate the entire countryside in almost continuous flashes.
‘Is this Beornwyn’s doing?’ asked Cole in an awed voice, as the first drops of rain began to fall. ‘Rupe paid for a miracle, and here it is?’
‘Of course not,’ said Gwenllian, although she was less sure than she sounded. ‘It is just a coincidence.’
Then all conversation was impossible as the heavens opened, and the rain pounded down with such force that she feared the roof might cave in. The deluge stopped as quickly as it had started, and
all that could be heard was water splattering from overtaxed gutters.
When it was light, she and Cole walked into the bailey which was heavily waterlogged. She smiled her relief at this sign of plenty, but he was anxious as he squinted up at the sky.
‘I thought you would be pleased,’ said Gwenllian. ‘What is wrong?’
‘The storm has not broken the weather. It will be just as hot today as it was yesterday, and that violent rain will have flattened any corn that has survived the drought. Moreover, I
suspect that most of the water has run off without soaking into the soil. If this was a miracle, then it was not a very useful one.’
‘Here is Kediour,’ said Gwenllian, spotting the tall prior picking his way across the morass. ‘I imagine he will have something to say on the subject of miracles.’
‘I spent most of last night in my library,’ Kediour reported without preamble, ‘and I found mention of Beornwyn eventually. I was right: she is not recognised by the Church,
although her cult thrives in and around Whitby. However, there is no suggestion that her hand was ever in Ramsey – or Romsey, for that matter. Those young men are lying.’
‘I saw them and Rupe praying to her last night, in his wood,’ said Cole. ‘Do you think she made it rain?’
Kediour regarded him in dismay. ‘You witnessed an act of desecration and did nothing to stop it?’
‘They were praying,’ said Cole uncomfortably. ‘It is not for me to interrupt people’s private devotions.’
‘This from a man who has set eyes on the Holy Land?’ Kediour was shocked. ‘How
could
you ignore such an outrage? And so close to my priory, too! I must see about
having the spot cleansed. You had better come with me, and point out exactly where this vile deed took place.’
‘Hardly a vile deed,’ mumbled Cole, disconcerted by the prior’s hot words.
Kediour fixed him with a baleful eye. ‘You should keep your role in this shameful affair quiet, because that rain did far more harm than good – homes flooded, crops flattened, cattle
drowned. We do not want
you
blamed for the disaster. Can you imagine what Rupe and Avenel would say about it? They would use it to destroy you.’
‘But it was Rupe who prayed for—’ began Cole.
‘He will deny it,’ interrupted Kediour tartly. ‘Like the liar he is.’
Cole nodded acquiescence, knowing he was right.
Gwenllian went with them as they walked to the coppice, noting a number of broken roof tiles, several people sweeping water from inside their homes and a tree fallen across the road. The sun was
already hot, and the few remaining puddles were evaporating fast.
‘That is odd,’ said Cole, stopping to inspect a rivulet of water. ‘This part of the road never usually floods.’
‘It has been flowing since the storm,’ explained Mayor Rupe, making them jump by speaking close
‘At night?’ queried Gwenllian.
‘I asked the same thing: he said he prefers to work without an audience. I told him to forget wild theories and concentrate on the thieves, but I doubt he will oblige. He wants to impress
you with an endless supply of water. The wretched man is head over heels in love with my wife, and I was the last one to know it.’
Later that night there was a colossal clap of thunder, so loud that Cole was not the only one who thought the castle was under attack from war machines. He and Gwenllian stood
at the window, watching lightning illuminate the entire countryside in almost continuous flashes.
‘Is this Beornwyn’s doing?’ asked Cole in an awed voice, as the first drops of rain began to fall. ‘Rupe paid for a miracle, and here it is?’
‘Of course not,’ said Gwenllian, although she was less sure than she sounded. ‘It is just a coincidence.’
Then all conversation was impossible as the heavens opened, and the rain pounded down with such force that she feared the roof might cave in. The deluge stopped as quickly as it had started, and
all that could be heard was water splattering from overtaxed gutters.
When it was light, she and Cole walked into the bailey which was heavily waterlogged. She smiled her relief at this sign of plenty, but he was anxious as he squinted up at the sky.
‘I thought you would be pleased,’ said Gwenllian. ‘What is wrong?’
‘The storm has not broken the weather. It will be just as hot today as it was yesterday, and that violent rain will have flattened any corn that has survived the drought. Moreover, I
suspect that most of the water has run off without soaking into the soil. If this was a miracle, then it was not a very useful one.’
‘Here is Kediour,’ said Gwenllian, spotting the tall prior picking his way across the morass. ‘I imagine he will have something to say on the subject of miracles.’
‘I spent most of last night in my library,’ Kediour reported without preamble, ‘and I found mention of Beornwyn eventually. I was right: she is not recognised by the Church,
although her cult thrives in and around Whitby. However, there is no suggestion that her hand was ever in Ramsey – or Romsey, for that matter. Those young men are lying.’
‘I saw them and Rupe praying to her last night, in his wood,’ said Cole. ‘Do you think she made it rain?’
Kediour regarded him in dismay. ‘You witnessed an act of desecration and did nothing to stop it?’
‘They were praying,’ said Cole uncomfortably. ‘It is not for me to interrupt people’s private devotions.’
‘This from a man who has set eyes on the Holy Land?’ Kediour was shocked. ‘How
could
you ignore such an outrage? And so close to my priory, too! I must see about
having the spot cleansed. You had better come with me, and point out exactly where this vile deed took place.’
‘Hardly a vile deed,’ mumbled Cole, disconcerted by the prior’s hot words.
Kediour fixed him with a baleful eye. ‘You should keep your role in this shameful affair quiet, because that rain did far more harm than good – homes flooded, crops flattened, cattle
drowned. We do not want
you
blamed for the disaster. Can you imagine what Rupe and Avenel would say about it? They would use it to destroy you.’
‘But it was Rupe who prayed for—’ began Cole.
‘He will deny it,’ interrupted Kediour tartly. ‘Like the liar he is.’
Cole nodded acquiescence, knowing he was right.
Gwenllian went with them as they walked to the coppice, noting a number of broken roof tiles, several people sweeping water from inside their homes and a tree fallen across the road. The sun was
already hot, and the few remaining puddles were evaporating fast.
‘That is odd,’ said Cole, stopping to inspect a rivulet of water. ‘This part of the road never usually floods.’
‘It has been flowing since the storm,’ explained Mayor Rupe, making them jump by speaking close
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