Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

Once Mick had been a man whom Jordan had trusted. It was that which had made Jordan’s rage so extreme, probably. He lost all his inhibitions when he was confronted with betrayal, and would seek to destroy any man who stood in his path. That, for the man who was betraying him by taking his wife for a tumble, was a source of terror. If Jordan ever came to hear of Reg’s infidelity — and Mazeline’s, of course — he would tear them limb from limb in his blind fury. There would be no holding him back.

‘Hello, Reg.’

The sound of Jordan’s voice made Reg’s heart leap so violently, he felt sure it must burst from his body. ‘Sweet Mother of God …’

‘Friend, I can only say thank you, but if there is ever a favour you need from me — well, let me know,’ Jordan said. ‘And for now, here’s a token.’

He thrust a purse into Reg’s shaking hands, and then strode away in a hurry. Reg gripped the bag, staring dumbfounded, and only when Jordan had disappeared from view in the crowds did he untie the thongs at the neck and stare in at the coins that shifted and moved with a merry tinkling ring as his entire body shook with reaction.

The tavern at the end of Daniel’s alley was called the Black Hog, and Sir Peregrine hesitated at the door.

‘You really wish to enter here?’

‘Sir Peregrine, believe me, you will go into worse places than this as Coroner,’ Baldwin chuckled, and ducked under the lintel. To see bold, political Sir Peregrine so anxious made him want to laugh.

It was not so bad as some of the rougher alehouses at the north-western corner of the city. Until recently the Franciscans had lived there in their little convent, but the insanitary conditions were not conducive to prayer, and when several friars had died they petitioned to acquire another block of land. Now, although their church remained, the only other recognizable feature from the convent days was the huge open midden that flooded the roadway in front of the church. Baldwin knew several of the alehouses along that way, because they were particularly useful when he was seeking a man who was inured to a life of felony.

Now, however, he was looking for a man who would appear more respectable, if the maid’s whispered description was anything to go by. Soon Baldwin spotted him: a burly figure sitting at a table with a large pot before him and the contented expression of a man who was already much of the way down his first quart of the day.

‘Master Saul?’

‘Aye? Oh. Keeper.’

‘You know me?’

‘Seen you about the place, Sir Knight. Who doesn’t recognize you? What do you want from me? My pigs are-’

‘This is nothing to do with your pigs, master. A man was murdered last night and we are attempting to learn why.’

Saul glanced from one to the other. ‘So you’re looking into Daniel’s murder?’

Sir Peregrine peered at him closely. ‘You know of this?’

‘We don’t have that many murders of sergeants even in this street, sir,’ Saul said simply. ‘People have been gossiping about his murder all morning.’

‘And who do the people blame?’

‘There are many who had reason to want to see him suffer. Daniel was a dedicated sergeant.’

‘Do you obey the law?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you like him?’

‘For my part, yes. Not everyone did, though.’

‘Such as?’

‘Henry Adyn, for example. He was dreadfully wounded by the sergeant. Daniel hit him with a pickaxe and took away half his chest. He’s still half crippled. Works as a carter.’

‘Where is he to be found?’

‘Usually in here, but today he’s not around. I think he has a place down just off Pruste Street.’

‘In the meantime, have you heard of a man who enters bedrooms and studies the children in their sleep?’

Saul let out a guffaw and slapped his thigh. ‘Who hasn’t? Everyone knows about Est, poor soul.’

‘Est again?’ Sir Peregrine asked, drawing up a stool and sitting opposite him. ‘He’s the man we need to know about. Tell me: who is this Est?’

John took Robert with him when he went to visit the cathedral close. At the Ercenesk Gate they strode past the grinning gatekeeper with their heads held low in humility, ignoring the sniggers and ribald comments of the porter and a couple of lay servants. Instead, fingering their crosses, John and Robert made their way down the track worn in the grass that led over the cemetery towards the great west door of the cathedral.

The sun was shining again now after a short period of gloominess when clouds had blanketed the sun and blocked its gracious warmth, and John had felt the desolation of loss at that time.

There were some in his position, he knew, who were happy to take the wealth of men and think nothing more of the poor dead soul, but he was not one of those. He enjoyed his task, knew he was good at it, and tried on all occasions after a success to compose himself and remember that he had a duty to exhibit meekness and humility. Still, sometimes delight would overwhelm him and he would think of punching the air for simple excitement of a job well done. By taking the money he was helping his Order, and saving a soul.

That canon was strange. There was something about his appearance, as though he knew he should be safe, but somehow doubted it. Guibert should have let John stand against him. There were enough men there to prevent the theft of Sir William’s body. In God’s name, the man’s own wishes were being ignored! It was scandalous!

The money would serve to feed the brethren, keep the chapel filled with candles, and help finance the alms which the friars sought to give to the needy. It was not for personal use, of course. None of them had need of money, because no Dominican held property. They had given up all their possessions so that they might concentrate on their responsibilities. They had the duty to preach and save souls. They weren’t like those leeches the pardoners, who were little better than official thieves who took money in return for pieces of paper that promised spurious security. Like most friars, John had no sympathy with secular fund-raisers of that sort. They spent their time wandering the country, fooling the gullible into giving them their wealth, when all people needed to do was speak to a friar, a man learned in helping the flock. He could listen to their confessions and grant absolution, and that without huge expense. Most people would prefer that, surely, to having to go to an illiterate fool of a parson, who might listen to certain sins with an ear more attuned to his own sexual gratification than to the effect they might be having upon the poor offender.

That was the trouble so often. People would enter the priesthood when they had no vocation. There were so many men in the Church now, and a large number were not there because they wanted to help the poor and needy, but because they were younger sons who had no inheritance, or because they were sick in spirit and sought an easy life in the Church. There were also the corrupt, who saw entry into the Church as a means of inveigling their way into the skirts of the female members of the parish.

And there was more … worse!

‘Look at this place, Robert! Filled with gluttony and greed. The house of God sits amidst this wealth like a solitary beacon, while about her are all these places dedicated to Mammon and self-gratification.’

‘I don’t under-’

‘This place,’ he said, standing still and waving a hand. ‘Here on our left are the great houses of the canons, each of them big enough for several families, all needing magnificent incomes to pay for them, but here they house only the canon and a few servants. Over there is the great house built for the choristers, and beyond it the deanery. All these buildings, all these servants, and yet we know that all a man needs is his bowl and a space to pray. There’s no necessity for these enormous estates and such stolen wealth. The Church is a wonderful institution, but how much more marvellous would she be if she were here in the open for all to share? The Dean and chapter should tear down these houses, remove these proofs of their greed and worldliness; they should give up their incomes for alms to support the poor, and leave this place to go and preach to those who need to hear the Word of God! Instead they rob us!’