Page 39 of The Chapel of Bones

‘Mythical ones. Just like Aleric Donnal was.’

‘Gadson can’t be sure of the timings for Friday night, so Baker could easily have made it to Belsham. I don’t think we can eliminate him from our enquiries just yet.’

‘Is it likely that he’d hold a grudge against Sue Potter for that long? As far as we know, she’s had nothing to do with him for months, and she wasn’t the only neighbour he fell out with. I can see him lashing out and killing her during an argument, but this murder seems well planned. Why kill her now?’

‘That’s what we need to find out. And don’t forget that weird note she received. The animal that attacks other animals.’

‘ “The lanzani is a cruel beast who attacks any animal not of its own kind. Not even the bold lion is safe from its implacable hatred.” ’ Wesley remembered the words verbatim. ‘The illustration was photocopied from a medieval manuscript, though, not drawn in Baker’s style at all.’

‘That particular image is available online, so anyone could have made a copy. Even so, I’d like to see whether Baker’s prints are on it.’

‘His prints aren’t on record.’

‘Shouldn’t be a problem. We can always haul him in for questioning on suspicion of Sue Potter’s murder and take them then,’ said Gerry with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Aleric Donnal’s notebook

2 May 2011

In 1483, Anselm writes:I took another message to Henry Tudor from his lady mother. I know not what it contained, for I am but a humble messenger – a man of God who has everybody’s trust and whom nobody questions. The planned invasion failed because of treachery and dire storms in the Channel, but Henry Tudor has sworn a solemn oath in Rennes Cathedral to marry King Edward’s daughter, Elizabeth of York, as soon as he takes the throne as I pray he will. Then the houses of Lancaster and York will be united and peace will come to the land.

The account continues in a similar vein, detailing the secret work Anselm undertook on behalf of the Lancastrian faction. It is a wonderful and important story, seeing Henry VII’s exile through the eyes of one who actually witnessed the events. And yet it is the identity of Brother Anselm’s ‘sinner’ that nags at the back of my mind. Perhaps this might provide fruitful material for another book once I have finished my work on medieval beasts.

If only I could discover what dark deed the individual was planning to commit. Although Anselm is heavily involved in the important political affairs of the day, the matter of the sinner seems to weigh heavily upon his mind. And the margins of his chronicle are filled with sketches of beasts. Mostly of the fearsome kind.

25

While they were walking to the car, Wesley took a call from Rachel, who told him that she’d heard from Morbay University and that a Professor Hughes was expecting them.

On their arrival, they were provided with directions to the history department, where they managed to locate Professor Hughes’s office. The professor stood up as they entered and shook hands, completely unworried by a visit from the police. He was a tall, thin man who walked with a stoop and reminded Wesley of a heron. His face was unlined, and Wesley guessed that he was younger than he first appeared.

‘I was told you wanted to ask about someone who once worked in my department. A Dr Aleric Donnal, am I right?’ he asked after he’d invited them to take a seat. ‘I’ve been away for the weekend and I’ve only just heard that his body’s been found. I was shocked. Who on earth would want to do such a thing?’

Gerry gave Wesley a small nod. He’d leave the talking to him.

‘I believe he was here between 2010 and 2011,’ Wesley began.

‘That’s a long time ago, and he was only with us a year. But I worked with him when I was a young lecturer.’ Hughes smiled at the memory. ‘He took his doctorate at York, I believe, and then he taught and researched at various universities up north before going to France. Immediately before coming here, he spent a few years carrying out research at a university in Brittany. I remember him saying he’d returned to Devon to pursue . . . now what did he call it? A passion project, that’s it.’

‘Do you know what that project was?’

The professor thought for a few moments. ‘I think it was something to do with mythical beasts in medieval religious art. Bit esoteric, I’m afraid, but that seemed to be his specialist interest. And there was something else connected with a discovery he’d come across in Brittany; I think it concerned a local family.’

‘Could that be the Fontescues? He did some research in the muniment room at Fontescue Hall.’

Hughes gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry. He kept his research very close to his chest.’ He smiled knowingly. ‘You know what we academics are like. Always terrified of someone stealing our findings before we can publish. Plagiarism is a sin against the Holy Ghost, but it does go on.’

‘What happened when he left?’

Hughes took a deep breath. ‘As far as I know, he returned to France. He was certainly intending to go back there after the students’ end-of-term exams, but I didn’t have a chance to speak to him before he left. He went without any fuss, but I don’t think anyone was particularly surprised about that. He was the sort of man who kept himself very much to himself. Lived for his studies. The eccentric academic type, if you know what I mean. There are a lot of us about – though maybe not as many as there used to be.’

Wesley wanted to get the order of events clear in his head. ‘Did he leave in May 2011?’

The professor thought for a few moments. ‘It would have been around then, but I can’t tell you the exact date. The exams were almost over, his contract was about to run out and I recall him saying that there was exciting material in the Rennes Cathedral archives he couldn’t wait to investigate further, so I assumed that was where he’d gone. And he wasn’t really the type who’d keep in touch with old colleagues.’ He paused. ‘To think that all the time he was . . .’ For the first time the man lookedgenuinely upset. ‘You never think that sort of thing is going to happen to someone you’ve met, do you. Not that I knew him very well.’

‘Can you remember anything else that might help us? An argument with someone, perhaps? A professional disagreement? Something in his personal life?’

‘As far as I remember, Dr Donnal didn’t have a personal life. Married to his job, isn’t that what they say? His body might have been in the twenty-first century, but his mind was in the Middle Ages. We’re all a bit like that in this department, I suppose, but with him it was taken to the extreme. Having said that, he was hardly the sort to make enemies – even of the professional kind.’