Page 95 of The Chapel of Bones

Neil lowered his voice. ‘It’s the Fontescue Bestiary. Late fifteenth century. You know that chronicle I told you about? The one written by Brother Anselm? Well, it’s mentioned in there. A killer paid for it to be made at the monastery as penance for his sins. He paid for the chapel we’re excavating as well. And renamed the well after the patron saint of murderers. And we now know why that skeleton was reburied in the chapel. It was aman called Simon Garnet, who was hanged when the real killer framed him for murder.’

‘Who was the real killer?’

Neil paused as though he was expecting a drum roll before he made the announcement. ‘Thomas Fontescue, the lord of the manor. He confessed to his brother, Anselm, who of course couldn’t say anything because it was under the seal of the confessional. As part of his penance, Thomas had the wrongly accused Simon reburied at the new chapel in consecrated ground. I’ll give you a copy of the documents so you can read all about it at your leisure.’ He grinned. ‘It’ll make a change from work.’

Wesley laughed. ‘You think? Are you going to show me the bestiary?’

‘Annabel would kill me if I unwrapped it in the pub.’

‘And I don’t want another murder to investigate.’

The case was wrapped up and Jon Gadson was in custody awaiting trial. Helen, now determined to stay at Sycamore House, was encouraging Neil to widen the excavation, joining in the digging with manic enthusiasm, claiming she’d found her vocation in life.

It was three weeks after their night in the pub when Annabel invited Wesley and Pam to the archives in Exeter to view the valuable and rare bestiary that had lain well hidden and forgotten in the chapel at Fontescue Hall for centuries. The ancient book lay on its special cushion, and they watched as she turned the pages carefully. All creation appeared to be there, brightly coloured and strangely weird. The medieval concept of an elephant looked comical, and the apes wore sinister grins. When she came to one particular page, Wesley asked her to stop while he read the creature’s name. It was one that was only too familiar.

‘Lanzani,’ he whispered.

‘Vicious-looking thing,’ said Neil.

‘You couldn’t be more right,’ said Wesley, giving Pam’s hand a squeeze. ‘But of course the most potentially dangerous creature of all is man. Anybody fancy a drink?’