Ralph smiled cynically.
It was one of the first things Baldwin had decided he disliked about this fellow: the complete lack of obsequiousness. At least most physicians had the decency to try to appear as though they cared a little for their patients, but not Ralph. He had one ambition, and that was to make as much money as possible.
Now he gave a little sniff, as though he was disapproving but not bothered. If Baldwin intended to kill himself, that was his own affair (so long as he was up to date with paying his bills, of course). Ralph would give advice, and that was an end to his responsibilities. ‘It is up to you, but I have found that my patients survive better if they arise from their beds and indulge in some light exercise. Still, the corollary to that is that you should not overstrain yourself. I urge you to remain here, Sir Baldwin. It would be most unfortunate if you were to ruin the excellent progress you have made in the last week just for this one meeting. What good it could do you, I do not know. Far better that you should walk a little about the Cathedral Close, sit in the sun when it shines, and rest yourself.’
‘Shut up, fool!’ Baldwin snarled.
Jeanne took his arm, and the pair walked from the room. Outside Simon stood waiting, while Edgar sat on a bench nearby. His head was still very painful, as was obvious from his grimace as the sun shone full in his face, but for all that he was remarkably well recovered after his heavy knock. Seeing Baldwin, he stood immediately and the four of them set off.
Their path took them past John Coppe. Baldwin himself reached into his pocket and fumbled for a coin, throwing it to the beggar as they passed.
‘That was kind of you,’ Jeanne commented.
‘He deserves better,’ Baldwin said gruffly. ‘If it weren’t for him, you and I might both be dead.’
That was a sobering thought. She was silent for some while. Her black eye was still a glorious colour, with blues and purples fading to yellow at the edges. The whole of the battle in Janekyn’s small chamber was hazy to her, and she was glad of the fact. She craved forgetfulness. All she knew was that her man was alive and recovering. With that she was well-satisfied. She thrust her arm through his. Unseemly, perhaps, to behave in so forward a manner in public, but convention be damned. She wanted to be like this for ever – close to her husband, secure in his love.
For that was how she felt. Ever since that appalling day of her arrival here, she had been convinced that her husband’s love had returned. She looked up at his stern features with a sense of relief, tempered with the memory of that bleak time when he seemed to lose his affection for her. She dreaded it happening again and would do everything in her power to prevent it. She loved him: she couldn’t bear to lose him.
Joel was already sitting in his chair waiting when they knocked on the door. He swigged back the wine in his mazer and rose to his feet as Vince led them into his hall. ‘Godspeed.’
Baldwin nodded, and Simon managed a short bow, while Jeanne murmured her own greeting, dipping her fingers in the stoup by the door and making the sign of the cross over her breast. Edgar said nothing, but walked away from Baldwin to the wall not far from Joel. From there he appeared to be keeping an eye on Joel and on his apprentice, and Joel gave him a suspicious look. The man looked intensely threatening.
Joel was surprised to hear the next knocking at the door, and when he saw Vincent’s father, his astonishment was reflected on his face. ‘Wymond? What do you want?’
‘My boy reckoned I ought to hear what you’ve got to say.’
‘Vincent? What’s this about?’
Baldwin interjected, ‘Perhaps it will become clearer if you tell the story.’
Joel nodded. He contemplated the men in front of him as he began. ‘I suppose you’ve heard all about the murder of the Chaunter?’ he said heavily. ‘Well, all I can say is, you don’t understand how things were. It was hell in the city when that new arse came in.
‘No one wanted Quivil. He was out to stop anything that made business profitable for us. The fellows from the city wanted someone who was more … congenial, but Quivil was determined to interfere, silly bastard! Sorry, my Lady,’ he added, glancing at Jeanne.
‘When the Treasurer managed to get himself the Deanship, that was like a red rag to Quivil. He went berserk, so they said. Ranted about the corruption eating at the Chapter, said John Pycot was a canker that had to be cut out, and the like. And then, to stifle any ambitions John might have had, he put that idiot Lecchelade in place to hinder him. Everything John tried to do, Walter de Lecchelade stopped him. Even refused him access to the Dean’s stall in the choir. It was impossible. All business at the Cathedral was effectively held up by their antipathy. And what else could we do, but try to save the place?’
‘By murder.’ Baldwin’s tone was flat and unemotional.
‘Granted it wasn’t the way most people would have sought to straighten things, but John Pycot had taken about as much as he could stand. He was at least a sensible bloke you could talk to, while the Bishop and his lackey wanted their own way and weren’t prepared to discuss it.
‘It wasn’t just a few men in the city with an axe to grind, either. It was a whole mixture of people, many of them from the Cathedral. No one wanted this idiot Lecchelade foisted on us. There were vicars, men like Stephen … poor devil.
‘So that night we all went to the Close and hung around until the end of Matins. That place where the chapel is now, that was where Lecchelade’s house stood, and we knew we had to jump on him before he could go inside. It was William’s idea, I think, to get the rumour to the Chaunter that there was going to be an attack, but that the Bishop had set up his own men to catch us in the act. It worked like a dream, too. The Chaunter couldn’t tell what sort of counter-attack was being planned, because he was in the Cathedral running the service. All he knew was that Matthew, his darling boy, had said that all was under control. Matthew was so well-trusted by the Chaunter that his word wouldn’t be doubted. And William told us not to kill him, so most of us guessed he was in on it.
‘Stephen was with us, of course. From the first moment, he was in ahead of me. I think he had some other reason to hate the Chaunter, but I don’t know why. Anyway, just before we could attack, a novice called Vincent ran up and tried to warn the Chaunter. The fool nearly messed the whole thing up. Luckily, Nicholas didn’t realise. He had heard there might be an attack, and when Vincent rushed at him in the dark, Nick pulled out his dagger and saw him off.’
Wymond heard the words like a blow to his heart. Joel’s matter-of-fact tone only added to the insult, to his sense of loss. He felt his son’s hand on his shoulder, and forced himself to be calm. He wouldn’t break down in front of an accessory to his brother’s murder.
Joel continued, ‘After that, we all piled in. Thomas slashed at Nicholas and did that damage to the poor sod’s face, while the rest of us set to at the Chaunter and his gang. Someone knocked Matthew down – I think that was William – and the rest of us did what we could. Only later did I see William with the Chaunter. He was holding his dagger in the Chaunter’s breast and twisting the blade. He was the murderer of Walter – I swear it.’
‘What do you gain from telling us this?’ Simon asked.
‘Revenge! Afterwards I saw that there was some mileage to be gained from the fact that the Southern Gate was left wide open all night. When the King arrived, I decided I’d mention this, because the old King was quite generous. I told my friend William, but before I could speak to the King, I learned that William had already told him. Edward rewarded him with money and a place in the royal household.
‘I was furious. I’d told William before, see – so that he wouldn’t get angry with me. Even then he was a ruthless shite, and I didn’t want him sticking a knife in my back for some supposed insult in later years. As it was, I wanted to get him instead. He stole my idea and my savings, and took my reward, the thieving git!’
‘And that was that,’ Baldwin commented.
‘There’s nothing more to tell,�
� Joel said. He looked tired now, as though he had worked hard at his tale. ‘I wanted you to know the truth so that no lies could confuse the issue later.’
‘Why did you choose to tell us?’
‘Because I want William to pay for what he did. Look – I’ve had a good life. If I’d gone to the King’s service instead of him, I’d not have met my Maud and might well be dead in a Scottish ditch somewhere by now. No, I reckon I’ve done better here than I would have, taking on the life of a warrior. But that doesn’t mean that I’d happily see him rewarded for his murder. I saw him kill the Chaunter – it’s wrong that he should live out his days with a King’s corrody after that.’
Baldwin nodded, but in truth he was not very interested. His wound was giving him pain again, and the convoluted motivations of this man were of little import to him. He would prefer to return to his room and rest as the physician had suggested.
It was Simon who said, ‘I don’t think the King will take kindly to hearing that the man his father rewarded so well was in fact a murderer guilty of the crime he reported. The Corrody will probably be returned.’
‘Good. I wouldn’t want to think that the man was going to survive without punishment.’
‘Do you not think others deserve some punishment?’ Vincent burst out. ‘After all, you yourself helped to get that man murdered, then sought to reward yourself as you could, reporting about the gate being left open, all for your own advantage and the devil take the others!’
‘Be quiet, Vince. I didn’t tell you to stay here, and I won’t have you speaking disrespectfully in front of all these people.’
‘You are a murderer and accomplice of murderers, Master,’ Vincent spat. ‘I can speak to you how I wish.’
‘I’ve never committed murder,’ Joel declared stiffly.
‘You’ve plotted it, you’ve helped others kill, and you even planned to report the gate, which led to two men being wrongly hanged,’ Vincent said hotly.
‘Boy, be silent! I won’t have you talk like this.’
Simon beckoned the apprentice to him. ‘Joel, you know the man called Vincent whom Nicholas, so you say, killed? Did you never wonder that your apprentice had this fellow’s name?’ He put his arm about Vincent’s shoulder.
‘Vincent?’ Joel said dully. ‘You’re related to him?’
‘He would have been my uncle.’
‘Christ Jesus!’
‘So I think,’ Simon continued, ‘that you ought to agree that this young man’s contract is finished. Vincent here wishes to set up shop, and it would be a right neighbourly thing for a boy’s master to lend him the money to get him started – don’t you agree?’
Thomas would never forget the sight of Sara, lying there on the bench, blood all over her. The mere thought could make the hairs rise on the back of his neck. In that moment, he thought he had lost her, and that he was the agent of a terrible fate.
Yet then he had reminded himself that the death of Saul was nothing to do with him. It was Matthew, trying to kill him, who had caused the rock to fall. Nor had Sara’s little son Elias died because of Thomas. If anything, he had saved her life.
He sobbed as he huddled over her body, listening to the soft thudding of her heart. Dear God, soon she would be dead! While the men about him were carrying Baldwin and Jeanne from the room, Edgar tottering after them, Thomas knelt there, cradling Sara’s frail body, until she gradually stirred and he felt her hand on his head.
He was convinced this was her death. She was going. He ought to demand that she confess her sins. It was his duty to a fellow Christian, and there was dispensation for a man to hear a Confession when there was no priest available. He pulled away from her, preparing himself to speak the viaticum, and then he saw her eyes open. There was a glazed look in them, and he burst out with more sobbing, only to hear her say, ‘What’s happened? Where am … what is all this!’
‘You’ve been wounded.’
‘Where?’
She sat up and he retreated, staring, still convinced that she must be about to die. The blood was so fresh.
It was only when he stumbled over the dead Treasurer’s body that he realised the truth, and even then it took his brain some while to accept the glorious fact that she was fine.
Baldwin was clearly very tired, and Simon had to help Edgar support him on the way back to the inn where the knight and his wife were staying. Simon put Baldwin into his chamber, resting him on his bed, and then left Jeanne and Edgar seeing to his needs while he went about the city.
The murder of the saddler and the Friar was all but concluded, of course. There were only a few loose cords to collect together. And Simon had an idea of one man who could help him: Thomas, the man who had been trying to flee the place when they found him at some woman’s house. Except no one seemed to have seen Thomas since the death of Stephen. His whereabouts were a mystery.
Simon pondered that for some while as he walked along Fore Street and then up the narrower ways to the old Friary. He turned the corner at the end of the road and continued until he reached the house with an old oaken door, upon which he knocked.
It was opened by a pale, drawn-featured woman with red-gold hair. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded suspiciously.
‘I am a Bailiff; Simon Puttock is my name and I want to speak with Thomas the mason.’
‘What makes you think he is here?’
‘There’s nowhere else he could be,’ Simon said equably. ‘Will you send him out here to be viewed by all your neighbours, or shall I enter and speak with him inside?’
Ungraciously she stood aside, staring hard at him as though daring him to bring any more misfortune into her dwelling.
As he entered, Simon saw the large vertical post that supported the roof, where Thomas had been bound last time he came in.
‘Hello, Master Thomas,’ he said.
The man seated at the table grunted. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve heard much about the killing of the Chaunter, but there’s one thing I cannot understand: why did you choose to leave the city after his death?’ Simon asked.
‘Because I was repelled by it all. I saw what I’d done when I attacked Nicholas, and it made my stomach turn. I had become a butcher who would happily slaughter his own best friend for a little money.’
‘Money?’
‘Henry, Joel and I were promised coin for taking part. John Pycot wanted as many men as possible so that the Chaunter would have little means of escape. He paid lots of us to be there. That night I stabbed Nicholas, my oldest friend, and thought that I had killed him. Later, when I got home, I decided to leave and never return. I could only bring dishonour to my family, so I thought.’
‘And you never came back until now?’
‘Why should I? There was nothing here for me. I was an only child. My mother had died when I was a boy and thanks to the Chaunter’s murder, my father was dead, too.’
‘Dead?’
‘Oh yes. That happened not long after I left. William, the devil, stood up and told everyone about the Southern Gate being open. Soon afterwards, my father was taken out and hanged.’
‘He was the Mayor?’ Simon asked.
Thomas frowned at him. ‘Of course not! He was the porter, the man in charge of the Southern Gate. When William announced to the King that the gate was open all night, he chose to punish those who were responsible: the Mayor, because he represented the city itself, and my father, because he had left the gates open.’
‘Why did he do that?’ Simon asked quietly.
Thomas looked confused. He stared at the table-top, shaking his head slowly. ‘I don’t know. I think he must have guessed that I had a part in the killing, because he found me the next morning, and I suppose he opened the gate to make it look as though someone from outside the city had committed the assassination. But it didn’t work, of course. It was a mad idea. Even if it was true that he had allowed the murderers to escape, he’d then have relocked the gates, not left them open all night.’
/> Simon nodded thoughtfully. ‘I see. What of your companions? Were you so very friendly with men like Joel and Henry and William beforehand?’
‘William wasn’t someone I’d have kept in touch with. He was always ruthless – not a pleasant character. Henry and Joel were good fellows, though. I always enjoyed a drink or a game with them. And Nicholas, too. He was a laugh.’
Simon felt his instinct had failed him. ‘So you didn’t see much of William, then?’
‘We went about a lot together. He stayed at my home, and I stayed in his, when we were younger. It was only when we got older that I saw what he was really like, and I started to avoid him.’
‘He knew your home, then?’
Thomas looked up at him. ‘What are you driving at, Bailiff?’
Simon stood with decision. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about me.’
He bowed slightly to Sara, then turned and left. As soon as he was gone, Thomas looked despairingly at Sara.
She saw his expression and said, ‘Don’t worry, Tom. I don’t mind.’
‘It’s just going to keep reminding you, that’s all,’ he said thickly.
Sara rubbed at her eyes tiredly. ‘No, Thomas. I don’t need reminding. Saul’s always here with me.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll go soon and leave you.’
‘You can’t stay?’
‘I won’t be arrested, the Bailiff said so after the Treasurer was buried. He reckoned that there’d been enough death resulting from the Chaunter’s murder.’
‘So you could stay if you wanted?’
‘I can’t. I’m a reminder to you of your loss.’
‘All I know is, I’m happy while you’re here.’
He was staring at her, dumbfounded, when there was another knock at the door. Thomas rolled his eyes. ‘What now, Bailiff?’
Jen poked her head around the door. ‘So you are here, then. I just wondered. Suppose you haven’t got any more of that wine, have you? No? Right, well, never mind. Well done, Sara. I said you ought to snare him. You look after her, fellow. She needs understanding, that woman does. You be careful with her, all right?’
The Chapel of Bones: (Knights Templar 18) Page 37