Michael Jecks - The Bishop Must Die

It was a relief to see the knight at his door. ‘Sir Baldwin, please enter — enter. It is most kind of you to come all the way out here.’

‘John tells me that you have been unfortunate enough to have had another message?’

‘He speaks before he ought to,’ the bishop said, turning a cold eye upon his servant.

‘Aye? And if I did not, what then?’ John de Padington said belligerently. ‘Would you willingly inform the good knight after he came to see you, or would you try to keep it hidden?’

‘Enough, steward! Fetch my guest some wine and begone! You have no sense of propriety.’

‘Propriety, is it?’ John muttered perfectly audibly as he turned his back and walked to the buttery. ‘And I suppose propriety will save a bishop’s life?’

‘Ignore the old fool,’ Bishop Walter said. ‘I am truly most glad to see you, Sir Baldwin. Tell me, how are the plans for the array proceeding?’

‘Not so well, it would appear, as the plans for your death. Show me these messages, Bishop. I know that they are unpleasing, but perhaps I can learn something from them.’

‘I doubt it,’ Bishop Walter said. He stood and walked to a small chest placed on a table opposite the fire. Opening it, he moved some scrolls and leather wallets aside before finding the purse. ‘Here it is. The notes are inside.’

Baldwin took the notes. ‘Which was first, which second?’

‘That one you hold there: you who think … and so on — that was first. The second was that The author of so much … and that is the latest.’

Baldwin read it. ‘ Your doom approaches. The city will not avail you now . What do you think that means?’

‘Simply that there is no defence in the city of Exeter, of course. What else could it mean? And it’s not surprising. The city contains many who dislike me. There are men there who would willingly collaborate with an assassin. I have made enemies in the Priory of the Dominicans, I have enemies in the city itself, and there are too many easy methods of ingress to the Close and the bishop’s palace. That was why I moved myself to here. I think that this should be a safer base from which to assert my freedom and independence.’

‘It is well fortified,’ Baldwin said. He was still studying the little scraps of parchment. ‘The writer has a good hand,’ he said at last. ‘Each one is perfectly legible.’

‘Which at least means it’s less likely to be one of my parish priests,’ the bishop commented sourly.

‘This purse is interesting, though.’

The door from the screens passage opened and William walked in, holding it wide for John, who was carrying a large tray laden with wine, goblets, and meat as well as cheeses.

Bishop Walter nodded to the steward. ‘Very good, John.’

‘We want to hear what the Keeper says,’ John said.

‘I wish for some peace,’ the bishop said firmly.

‘We have to learn all we can if we’re going to protect you,’ William protested. ‘It would be foolish for us to be turned away. What does the last message say?’ he asked.

Baldwin passed the note to him, and the squire stood reading it blankly for a moment. ‘What does it mean? The city wouldn’t exactly rise up to defend a man, no matter who it was.’

‘I agree with the bishop that it was a good idea to come here,’ Baldwin said, studying the first two messages closely. His eyes were not so good as once they had been.

The bishop shook his head. ‘I believe firmly that this is all nonsense, and will soon be shown to be of no consequence.’

‘This purse is most curious,’ Baldwin said. ‘It is too small to be used as a man’s purse. Good, fine leather, but so small. No man would carry something so petite. And this stain …’

Bishop Walter rubbed at the bridge of his nose. ‘Yes, it looks like blood, I know.’

‘Well, Bishop, I believe you if you say you’ve not killed a man,’ Baldwin said with a smile.

The bishop returned it, although his own, he felt, was rather more brittle than the knight’s. ‘I am glad to hear you say that. I would not like to be accused of a simple murder, Sir Baldwin.’

To his annoyance, the knight appeared to pay no attention to his words.

‘No. I don’t think you have killed a man yourself. However, the author of these notes believes that you have. And that means he must have some reason to suspect you. Is it possible that you have a servant who has killed and that you are being held responsible? The only alternative, surely, is that you have, because of negligence or inaction, allowed someone to die. I cannot believe that.’

‘Why, because you don’t think me capable of incompetence or laziness?’ Bishop Walter said pointedly.

Again though, Sir Baldwin did not look across at him. He remained turning the purse over and over in his hands. ‘No, it is merely a matter of commonsense. If you’d allowed someone to die from either cause, you would be aware of the deaths. If it were something which you were completely unaware of, your negligence or inaction would be irrelevant. Unless it was your negligence in following up a death? But this is pointless. It is trying to weave a tapestry to form a picture when we only have one colour of thread. What we need is different colours to tell our tale. So let us consider the next scene, and see if there is more thread there.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ the bishop said heavily.

‘Merely this, my lord Bishop. This purse — consider it carefully. It is so small, no man would use it as his purse, as I said. However, it is a useful size for certain things. I would imagine that many items would fit inside it, wouldn’t you?’

Squire William leaned forward. ‘What sort of thing, do you think?’

Baldwin peered at it very closely, resting his elbows on his knees. He scratched the outside, sniffed at it, studied it with his head on one side, and finally peered into the interior. He sniffed again, and then scratched at the inside, staring with a frown at his fingernail.

‘Well?’ the bishop said.

‘Someone used this to store a seal,’ Baldwin said slowly. He weighed the purse in his hand thoughtfully. ‘It’s very fine leather, good and soft. It would be enough to protect a man’s seal, and there is a residue of red wax on the inner seam.’

‘Great heaven!’ the bishop breathed as he took the purse and gazed inside. ‘I saw that, but didn’t think anything of it. So you consider that this might have been a seal’s purse. But how that can help us, I do not know.’

Baldwin was watching him closely, he noticed. ‘Yes, Sir Baldwin?’

‘May I be frank, Bishop? Before our companions?’

The bishop looked up at Squire William and his steward, then back at Baldwin, and he allowed a hint of steel to enter his voice. ‘I have no secrets from my nephew and the man who has shown himself my most trusted servant over many years, Sir Baldwin.’

‘In that case, bishop, I would ask how many manors you have acquired for yourself in recent years. This is a goodly sized purse for a large seal. That to me indicates that the seal was from a good manor. It is not a legal seal, for they are held in wooden boxes. It is not a regal seal, for they are larger. This is a middling seal for a man who was proud enough to have a leather purse made for his seal. Perhaps a rich squire, or a knight or knight banneret.’

‘I have not murdered anyone.’

‘That may be true. However, I am sure that there will have been occasions when you have worked with Sir Hugh le Despenser. Perhaps on some occasions he has been more … energetic in pursuing your joint ambitions than you would have been on your own.’

‘I am sure that I would have learned of murder, had he committed it.’