Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

‘Dean, I have been searching for the money as you asked, but …’

Dean Alfred nodded resignedly. ‘And, let me guess: the coins are all gone?’

‘There is no sign of them. And naturally Gervase de Brent is very angry that they were stolen here in the cathedral.’

‘Tell him that he, um, cannot blame the chapter for the misbehaviour of one malevolent individual.’

‘He has asked that all should be searched for his money.’

‘Tell him not to be so foolish!’ the Dean said with asperity. ‘What, does he mean to strip and search all the canons? Or pull apart their houses? Or merely the lodgings of all the vicars, annuellars, secondaries, choristers, novices and servants? Um, no. We shall have to make good his loss, if he insists, I suppose. But it is a sore trial to throw away good money just because of a thief. He is sure that he had the money when he arrived here?’

‘Yes, it was stolen while he was in the cathedral church, he says.’

‘There are always men with light fingers about.’ The Dean sighed. ‘Is there, um, anything more to ruin and ravage my peace of mind? No? Then, um …’

‘Dean, there is one more thing.’

‘What, Thomas?’

‘Alfred …’

‘If you’re going to start speaking to me as an equal, should I lie back in preparation?’

Thomas grinned. ‘At your age you should be lying down already, man. But there is one thing I have heard. My clerk Paul saw this man Gervase and was surprised to learn that he was making use of our hospitality. Two days before the money was lost, Paul was down near the southern gate of the city and saw Gervase walking in the company of a man towards the stews.’

‘You think that he was going there to be fleeced?’

‘Many a man will go there, pay his money, and have his purse emptied, so I’ve heard.’

‘So long as this is not based on your practical experience, Thomas,’ the Dean said.

Thomas smiled, but then he lowered his chin to his breast and peered at his friend. ‘I don’t think you heard me aright, Dean.’

‘On the contrary. I heard and noted the days, old friend. More than that, I’ve almost decided on a course of action. Enough! Now, go, and leave me to my misery. Let me consider.’

He stood, walked to the window and gazed out at the cathedral. As so often, the sight of the great church of St Peter seemed to clear his mind. He was unsure that the course of action he was contemplating was the most effective, but it was better than nothing, and might yield results. If there was a man with six extra marks in his pocket, it might be possible to find him.

‘Yes,’ he muttered. ‘He can help us.’

Returning to his table, he picked up a reed and began to scratch a message on a piece of parchment.

Baldwin had attended too many coroners’ courts to be overly impressed by yet another. The atmosphere was one of near boredom, with many people standing about and listening as the Coroner opened the inquest, calling on anyone who knew anything about this murder to come forward and declare his knowledge.

Daniel was studied where he had fallen, and then the jury watched closely while the figure was stripped of all his clothes and was slowly rolled over before them so that all could see his wound. There was only the one, of course. No one had expected to see more.

The first witness was Daniel’s wife, and Baldwin was interested by the attitude of the neighbours as she stood. Her face was partly concealed by a veil, but there was no mistaking the animosity of the crowd. A muffled hiss came from the back of the group and Baldwin was shocked to hear it repeated by others. Many seemed to hate her, especially, he guessed, the women.

She spoke clearly enough; she was quite collected, and gave her evidence briefly: she had been upstairs asleep with her husband, and was woken by a noise. She woke Daniel, and he, because he had suffered break-ins before, grabbed his sword before hurrying down the stairs. She followed, but only to see her man grappling with another dressed in dark cloak and hood, so she thought. Her husband had always insisted that candles and rushlights were extinguished before bed to prevent accidents. He had attended too many burned buildings and uncovered too many scorched and blackened corpses to want to see that happen in his own house. Thus it was that she could not describe the attacker’s face. He was not known to her, so far as she knew.

When she saw the fight, she thought she had screamed, and on hearing her the two men had lurched together. Her husband had gasped in pain, and the attacker fled with his knife in his hand. He hurtled through the window even as Juliana ran to her daughter’s side and shielded her eyes, screaming for the hue and cry. Later she hurried her children from the room when she was sure that her man was already dead. There was nothing more she could have done.

Baldwin reckoned she made a good witness. She was beautiful, calm, and rational. Her evidence made sense, and … Baldwin still did not trust her. There was something missing, something that this audience knew about. As Juliana turned away, he heard another hiss of disapprobation, and marked a woman at the back. He decided to speak to her after the inquest.

The rest of the court went ahead without Baldwin’s learning much more. So far as he was concerned, the interesting two people to speak to were Juliana and Estmund, but the bailiff appeared looking bashful and admitted that no one had been able to find Est. He had disappeared earlier in the day. Then a man asked who else had been in the street.

It was suggested that a man called Jordan le Bolle had been an enemy of the dead man. Jordan was called, and stood before the crowd with a stern, resolute air about him. He declared that he had not been in the area of the dead man’s house, so had seen nothing; he named three other men who had been with him all that night outside the city walls, and each of them acknowledged the validity of his alibi.

Then Jordan held up a hand. ‘Many of you here know that Daniel and I were not friends. For my part, I had nothing against the man, but he was convinced that I had done something wrong. I haven’t, and to show my good faith and my respect for this brave officer, I hereby offer a reward of three pounds to any man who can show who the killer of Sergeant Daniel truly was. This I swear on …’

The rest of his words were drowned out as some in the crowd cheered, although Baldwin saw that the woman at the back was curling her lip. Others appeared as unimpressed. They had something against this man too, then.

As soon as order was restored, the Coroner made his pronouncement: the sergeant had been murdered, that the murderer was a man with a knife, and that the knife was deodand, but in the absence of the blade itself he was declaring the forfeit to be three shillings. There were enough people to declare Englishry, so the murdrum fine was not relevant, but Sir Peregrine declared that the man Estmund was suspected, and when seen should be captured and brought to him. On that final point, he declared the court closed.

Baldwin immediately turned to Jeanne. ‘I want to speak to that woman there, the one with the green tunic with red embroidery. See her? I will be back as soon as I can, but she seemed to hate the dead man’s wife, and I want to know why. Wait for me …’

Before he could hurry off after her, a man reached him, forcing his way through the crush. ‘Sir Baldwin? The Coroner would be glad of a moment’s consultation with you.’

‘Not now. I have to go after someone. She may be able to help us with this murder.’

‘Which? This here or the other?’

‘Which other?’ Baldwin snapped.

‘The one in the alley.’

Jeanne saw how he was torn. ‘Husband, let me speak to the woman. You say she seemed to despise the widow? I shall seek to learn why.’