A silence followed while the three of them sat in as companionable a fashion as the subject would allow.

One of them eventually got up and went to the flagon on a nearby serving table, poured out a mug of wine for Hildegard, refilled her own mug and that of her companion then returned to her seat. It was a sign that conversation would be welcome.

Hildegard explained she was from the Abbey of Meaux in the north of England. Speaking French, she told them that she had only been in Avignon for a few days and yet already it seemed like months. So much had happened. It was very confusing. She did not know what to make of it all.

The nuns were sympathetic. Even the younger one with the cruelly tight wimple seemed kinder now as if by sharing their gruesome task Hildegard had passed a test and could be accepted as one of them.

They were both from a priory in Burgundy, they explained, where there was much fighting, not only with the English chevauchees, incessantly raiding the countryside and reducing the peasants to starvation, but by the Flemish who believed they had a right to defend their Ghent weavers from coercion by the Duke of Burgundy.

‘We’re caught in the middle, there to clean up after them. There to bury the bodies.’

Slowly Hildegard got round to the question of the dagger.

Both women looked blank. ‘It was certainly in his hand when he was lying in the mortuary,’ one of them agreed, ‘but when we came to lay out the body, after the rigor had passed, it had gone. We assumed someone in authority had taken it away.’

‘It looked quite valuable,’ the other nun said. ‘Why do you ask about it? Are you saying it was stolen?’

‘It has disappeared, I can say no more than that.’

‘When you first came in to look at him,’ the younger nun said, ‘your eyes were on the dagger and for a moment, forgive me, domina, I thought it was something you desired for yourself.’

Hildegard gave a rueful grimace. ‘I was sent to fetch it and I admit I did stare at it but my look didn’t spring from personal desire for such a thing but from a wish to carry out the errand given me. I saw it’d be impossible to remove it from his grasp at that point and so decided to return later.’

‘And when you returned to fetch it, it had gone, and now you have to account to someone for its disappearance. I see.’ The nun frowned. ‘This is a mystery then.’

‘I understand that the poor young fellow was an acolyte of one of the cardinals?’ the second nun observed, her attention on Hildegard.

‘That is so.’ It seemed that the truth was becoming generally known by now.

The nun asked bluntly ‘Was it the cardinal’s own dagger?’

Hildegard felt a look of uncertainty pass over her face. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted, ‘but I suspect not. He only said it was very like one he might have.’

‘Did he think his acolyte might have stolen it from him and decided he wanted a closer look at it?’

‘I don’t think that was in his mind.’

‘So why did he send you to fetch it?’ she persisted, adding, ‘if, indeed, it was the cardinal who sent you.’

Hildegard was silent for a moment. It was a good question but she could hardly admit to these two strangers that the cardinal feared it might lead him to be accused of sending his acolyte on a thieving jaunt. It will lead to me. Besides, it didn’t make sense. As far as she could see there was no reason for anybody to link him with the dagger. Why should they? Wasn’t it part of the papal treasures?

The nun was quick to interpret her silence and stared, horrified. Lowering her voice, she asked, ‘You mean to say it might have been stolen from the treasury and belonged to his holiness?’

‘I’m given to believe so. The task of fetching it came from Brother Athanasius and Cardinal Grizac. They seem to have an interest in the matter.’

‘One would think so. The magister is a power, we’re told.’

Both nuns exchanged wary glances. One of them leaned forward. ‘We understand that you are one of his - ’

‘We have said nothing,’ the elder one broke in. Her tone was colder now. She put a hand on her companion’s arm. ‘We saw nothing. We know nothing. It’s only a few days since we arrived here. We simply do as we’re asked as is our duty.’

‘The magister,’ Hildegard bit her lip, ‘what were you about to say? You believe I am one of his - ?’

‘Nothing,’ the nun shook her head with emphasis. The two women stared at her with hard eyes.

‘I’m in the same situation as you,’ Hildegard told them, lowering her voice. ‘I arrived here only a couple of days ago. I hadn’t met nor even heard of Brother Athanasius before I arrived. I can’t see him having any sort of power, trapped by old age and infirmity in his cell as he is. Surely his influence is exaggerated?’

The younger nun gave her an ironic smile, much like the one she had worn when she thought Hildegard was about to steal the dagger from Maurice. ‘Forgive me, domina, but you would say that, wouldn’t you?’

‘I feel contrite to find you have so deeply misunderstood my motive for wanting information from you. All I know is I was asked to fetch the dagger for Cardinal Grizac only to discover that it was missing. I thought you two were best placed to help me find out what might have happened. You could tell me, for instance, if anyone came in to see the body on a pretext of paying their respects.’ She held her tongue on the matter of the two men suggesting that the nuns themselves were thieves. ‘I wonder, was it, perhaps, taken while he was still in the mortuary after the rigour had left him, that would be, say around mid-day or shortly after?’

‘The rigour had left him about an hour after sext,’ the elder one confirmed. ‘You can tell the magister that.’

‘I feel like telling him nothing, given that he appears to be keeping me in the dark about what’s really going on. I can’t see how I’ve become implicated in the matter at all. My own concerns are far from Avignon, I can tell you.’

The older nun laughed. ‘I believe you, domina, even if my more sceptical sister does not. I believe we nuns are seen as useful and nothing else. We are not credited with intelligence by the men who run things. I’ve seen enough of it to suspect them all of constant duplicity.’

‘Me too,’ her companion reproached her, as if she wanted to affirm her agreement on the matter. ‘We have to support each other and get on with what we believe to be the essential work of our calling, feeding the poor, educating the young, honouring the dead, preserving the teachings of our Order.’

‘St Benedict be blessed,’ her companion murmured, crossing herself.

‘I wonder then, as we’re in agreement, whether you can tell me exactly what happened from the time when you first saw the body until the time you finished your duties. Who brought him into the mortuary?’

‘The same two guards who found him. They’ll tell you that.’

‘They’re under a cloud themselves, I gather. Some are assuming they must have killed Maurice as soon as they discovered him.’ Hildegard glanced from one to the other.

‘Pointless. They may be stupid, but not to that degree,’ she said, echoing the common sense opinion of the magister.

‘The rumour that one of them had stabbed the thief was vigorously refuted.’ She turned to her companion for confirmation.

‘Emphatically denied. Why would they knife him before finding out what he was doing there? It’s patent nonsense. “We’re in the clear,” they told us and we believe them. They left us to our duties as soon as they brought his body down. They didn’t take the dagger. It was there when one or two people such as yourself came in afterwards.’

‘Can you name the ones who came?’

The nun shook her head. ‘Servants, a cardinal, half a dozen fellow choristers in tears. We don’t know their names and of course did not ask out of respect for their grief.’

‘They left after a short while. The dagger was there when the last one went out but it had gone by the time we returned with the necessities for our trade.’