Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

‘Let me explain the problem, and then, if there is nothing you may do to, er, help us, then, um, you may feel free to leave immediately.’

With a bad grace Baldwin sat in a chair and listened. He knew the Dean. The man was damnably persuasive, and if he wanted Baldwin to remain here for a short while, it would upset poor Jeanne terribly. She was counting on returning home so that she could see their daughter Richalda again. It felt like too long since they had last seen her.

‘Sir Baldwin, um, we here in the chapter have had problems with the Dominicans, the Friars Preacher, for many years now. It all started when they — uh — began to encroach on our rights, just as happened in so many other dioceses. They took away some of our, er, flock by offering to listen to confessions, and we never thought that a good idea …’

‘Was it very expensive to lose the penances?’ Simon asked cheekily.

‘No, it, um, wasn’t that,’ the Dean said. He fiddled with the ring on his forefinger. ‘If a member of the congregation has committed a dreadful sin, they should, um, go and confess to their own priest. If they go to some itinerant Black Friar, whom they have, er, never met before and in all likelihood never will again, there is less, um, trepidation on their part. They will go to confession with a lighter heart. It must be less morally efficacious. And the penances may be entirely too light, which, um, means that they undermine the authority of the parish priest.’

‘I can scarcely believe that this is enough to cause you problems,’ Baldwin said.

‘It is not. They next, er, tried to take on our privilege of burying people. Of course, we have never, er, stopped them burying their own in their cloister. It is entirely right that dead friars should be buried on their own lands. But when they, er, try to take over lay burials, the whole matter changes. And that is what they have done. They took Henry Ralegh at about the turn of the century, and tried to bury him. That was so flagrant a, um, trespass, that we felt, some of us, that something must be done. So two members of the chapter hurried there with some servants as soon as we heard of it. Um.’

Baldwin looked at Simon. The bailiff was studying the Dean with an expression of amused tolerance. He glanced at Baldwin and grinned at the Dean’s discomfort.

‘It all came to a head that day, really. It, er, ended sourly. The two and their servants broke into the chapel and took the body, the cloth, the ornaments and candles, everything ! All of it was quite legitimately ours, not the Black Friars’, um. But of course they fiercely denied any such suggestion. They alleged that, um, they had the right to bury a confrater who had lived with them as one of them, even if he had not actually taken on their habit. It was, um, as you can imagine, er, quite a difficult time.’

Simon gulped his wine enthusiastically. ‘So what happened? You held the funeral and buried the man, and …’

‘We held his — ah — funeral, but when we, er, took the body back to the friars, they locked their gates against us. Quite, um, childish. Naturally, there was little we could do. So we, um, left him there.’

Simon sprayed wine and guffawed. ‘You left the poor … fellow out there? What, just dumped the body and ran back to the cathedral?’

The Dean scowled distastefully. ‘We, er, had a duty to return the body to them, we felt.’

‘But you kept the candles, the cloth, the estate …’ Simon grinned.

‘They were ours. Yet if they, er, wanted to have the body, we felt …’

‘They could keep it. I think we understand.’

‘Unfortunately that was not the end of the matter. They pursued the canons involved quite, um, relentlessly . Entirely unnecessary and pointless, of course, and we won all the cases they brought against us.’

Simon’s face cleared. ‘My … you mean this is the matter that so affected the Bishop for all those years before he was installed?’

‘Yes. He was, er, one of the two canons involved.’

Baldwin shrugged. ‘This is all old history, though. What does it have to do with us now?’

‘Feelings between our two, er, institutions have not eased over time. In fact, I would, er, say that they have deteriorated recently.’

‘Why is that?’ Simon asked.

From his tone of voice Baldwin could tell that he was enjoying the Dean’s discomfiture. It was not that Simon disliked the Dean, but to hear that such pettiness had erupted between two such powerful organizations was enough to amuse any man. Not Baldwin, though; not today. He had the feeling that this was leading up to his remaining in the city for a while, and he did not like the idea.

The Dean shook his head. ‘It started over the affair of Gilbert de Knovil’s money. Do you, ah, remember him? He was a Justice, and the Sheriff at the time. No? Well, he was a reliable man, when it came to his money. He deposited some with the Friars Preacher, and they, um … well, one of their fellows, Nicholas Sandekyn from Bristol, took it. And another friar knew of the theft, as did three successive priors. So, we here in the chapter, um, rather enjoyed their embarrassment.’

‘As you would,’ Simon said. He was trying to keep a straight face.

‘Yes. Um. Well, all was cool between us for some little while, but recently they have been exercising themselves against us under their new prior, Guibert. He, um, dislikes the chapter because he was one of those who witnessed our canons taking Ralegh’s body. And the fact that some, ah, canons thought it amusing to make fun of the friars when the theft was discovered did not endear us to him.’

‘So what has made matters worse recently?’ Baldwin asked.

The Dean squirmed in his seat, winced, looked up at the ceiling, and then sighed. ‘We have had a theft from a visitor. . and a rash canon removed a second body from their chapel.’

Simon nodded seriously. He took a deep breath, looked at Baldwin, and roared with laughter.

Jordan sat in his chair for a long time after she left.

The whore , she had to know that he had been involved. Agnes couldn’t be so stupid as not to have noticed that he and Daniel detested each other. Anyway, Juliana must have told her. So Agnes was threatening … what? If Juliana accused him, no one hearing her could possibly doubt that Jordan had made sure Daniel was at last dead.

It was ridiculous to be so battened down. He was one of the wealthiest men in Exeter, and certainly one of the most powerful, bearing in mind all the men he had at his beck and call, and yet just now a tiny slip of a wench had him seriously humiliated. The poisonous bitch deserved to be swung by the ankles and dropped over the city walls. Except if Agnes were to suddenly die as well, Juliana would be bound to wonder whether her dear older sister’s death could be anything to do with Jordan. No one could be so stupid as to miss that. Ach! His head was hurting ! The whistling in his ears was incessant, and so loud he wondered no one else could hear it.

The little bitch was dangerous, that much was certain. Juliana was a problem too. He could show exactly where he was on the night Daniel was murdered, but after the way the receiver and the clerk responded to him that morning, he realized that there were many who’d be willing to listen with an open mind to accusations that he had himself planned Daniel’s murder. Especially since Agnes had made that snide little comment. He must make sure that Reg kept quiet about things.

It was a while since Daniel had first declared that Jordan must never be allowed inside his house again. Agnes had spoken very carefully, as though testing him.

‘Daniel is keen to find felons in the city, isn’t he?’ she had said.