Now Hildegard considered what she would tell her when she wrote to her. With probably little interest in the drama of the treasury thief, the prioress would certainly be interested in the presence of a vassal of Prince Thomas of Woodstock at the court of Pope Clement.

**

Rumours about whether the thief had an accomplice began to take shape. Whether this unknown accomplice had turned on his, at this stage, equally unknown companion was an opinion that vied with suspicions about the story now being given out by the guards. They were adamant they had seen no accomplice. There was no second thief.

For some, this put their honesty into question. There was even speculation about the reason for them not being taken into custody themselves. Of course, said the pundits, they denied that they had killed the thief. They would, wouldn’t they? But, it was also argued, to kill him would not have been a shrewd move on their part. They weren’t sotwits, were they? Yet if it were true that there was no second thief, who was to blame for the murder?

The rumours told Hildegard one thing: nobody knew anything. For some reason the papal officials was keeping a tight hold on what facts they must have.

**

She got a chance to seek out the second guard involved sooner than expected. On her way to the couriers’ office she had to go past the guard room, as it was in the same block of buildings, and the guard she had spoken to before happened to be standing outside. When she asked if she could speak to the other guard who had found the body, he reluctantly nodded towards a fellow sitting inside polishing a knife.

‘That’s ’im.’ He called through, ‘The domina is on business for the magister.’

She ducked her head under the lintel. ‘May I crave your indulgence, captain?’

The man rose slowly and somewhat deferentially to his feet.

‘The reverend brother has sent me on a little quest,’ she smiled. ‘Sadly, he is confined to his chamber and has asked me to find out what I can from the guard who had the misfortune to discover the body of the thief.’

His eyes were hard. ‘It was his holiness himself who found him, tell the magister that,’ adding, surprisingly, ‘that is, if he doesn’t already know it. When Pope Clement returned from lauds the trapdoor into the vault was gaping open and inside was the thief, caught red-handed and as dead as a stone.’

‘That seems clear.’

‘It is clear.’

‘And, pray, can you tell me, was the thief one of the stable lads as it’s rumoured?’

‘No.’

‘May one ask who it was?’

‘You may but you won’t get an answer from me. However, you can put all the rumour-mongers to shame domina, for you have the full truth of all that is available to be known at this moment.’

‘My most profound thanks for the privilege, captain.’

She went back to Athanasius and told him word for word what had been said. When she came to the part about Athanasius probably knowing that the pope himself had found the body, he shook his head slightly, although whether to deny his knowledge of it or to deny the guard’s assertion she could not tell.

‘And that is all?’

‘All he would say.’

‘No rumoured name for the victim?’

‘No name.’

**

It had not escaped her notice that many of the cardinals had brought their mistresses with them while they conducted business at the palace. Some even had children with them against all the vows of celibacy they must have at one time professed.

Now, one of these children, a cardinal’s child judging by her expensive velvet gown, was skipping across the yard towards her. She was carrying a pet squirrel and as Hildegard drew near the creature jumped from the child’s arms and ran a little way along then stopped, looking back with head on one side, paws lifted.

The child gave a cry of alarm and ran after the squirrel which, taking it for a game, ran on further, then stopped, then ran and stopped again.

Failing to catch her pet the child burst into helpless tears.

Hildegard put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. ‘Let him come to us, child. Look, he’ll like a taste of this.’ She pulled a piece of bread from her sleeve. Not knowing whether the child understood her words or not, she said, ‘Take it. Offer it to him.’

Words were not needed after all. The girl took the morsel, crouched down to hold it out to the squirrel. Cautiously it returned, nose snuffling, paws ready to reach out.

Before it did so Hildegard scooped it up and stroked it until it lost all resistance and she could hand it back to its owner.

‘Many thanks, domina,’ said a pleasant voice behind her. When she turned she found she was being addressed by a handsome, youngish-looking cardinal. He had spoken to her in Latin and she replied in like mode.

He smiled. ‘You’ve saved me from my Flora’s tears, domina. Most grateful.’ He bowed slightly before lifting the child and the squirrel into his arms and walking on.

Judge not, she reminded herself. He seemed kind but then, that was a judgement in itself.

**

‘Come,’ Athanasius beckoned. ‘This is a very great privilege. I am summoned and you are my necessary help-mate.’

Leaning heavily on her arm, he guided her towards a flight of stairs at the end of the passage. At the top was a small ante chamber leading into the Jesus Hall where the cardinals usually waited for the pope on business. At this time of day only one or two servants were busy, one sweeping the floor with a besom, another polishing a brass candelabra.

A figure in red stepped from out of the shadows as they approached.

A thick set man of middle height, not young but with the presence of long-held authority stood before them. With a modest crucifix glinting on a chain round his neck, he was plainly attired compared to other cardinals she had so far seen about the place. He looked vaguely familiar and she realised it was one of those who had greeted Sir John Fitzjohn on his arrival in the early hours. Athanasius greeted him with little more than a nod and they continued through the chamberlains’ quarters towards a flight of steps. The cardinal followed them up without speaking.

At the top an usher stepped forward. He was wielding a large bunch of keys. They jangled as he inserted one of them into the lock of an iron-studded door. Then he stepped aside so they could go through into a lobby leading to a further chamber. It had a sumptuous look and a faint smell of perfumed oil from Outremer. Furnished with an altar, fireplace and several candelabras the main feature was a platform with an embroidered baldaquin topping another chair for the pope. The tiles were highly polished and squeaked underfoot as they crossed. A door of a similar heavy construction to the other one faced them and the keys rattled again as the lock ground open.

A vestibule was revealed on the other side. Two guards sitting on wooden stools, looking sheepish. They sprang to attention when the clapped eyes on Athanasius and the cardinal.

More stairs. A short flight, not well-worn, new work by the mason perhaps. At the top, a further door.

When they stepped through this one Hildegard looked round in wonder. It was a small, intimate chamber with a high stone ceiling disappearing into shadows but on the walls at eye level were the most stunning frescoes she had ever seen. Foliage so lifelike she could almost smell the leaves, formed a backdrop to a series of elegant hunting scenes continuing around all four walls.

‘Beautiful work,’ murmured Athanasius with a casual glance. ‘We have nothing like this in England yet.’

So he was English? His use of Latin was spoken with the purest accent making it difficult to glean any hint of his mother tongue. She turned to him, testing alliances. ‘King Richard would relish this. He has an eye for beauty and skill.’