Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

‘He is a sergeant. I suppose he must look for crime everywhere he goes,’ Jordan had replied smoothly.

‘In some cases he knows exactly where to look. He says you are lucky because you haven’t been caught yet. Did you know he’s been chasing you ever since the famine? He kept that to himself after a while, poor Daniel. But just think what others would think if they were told. You should keep your efforts hidden, lover!’ She had giggled then, and reached for him, as though she thought that making love with a felon was a delightful distraction and amusement for her.

He didn’t need to think at the time; he had known perfectly well what people would have thought. They would have thought that Jordan was a bit of a daring soul, but a good fellow on the whole. If he was involved in a little naughty behaviour, keeping whores and gambling dens, so much the better. Most of the men in the city would visit his establishments at one time or another. Yes, they would have looked up to him, most of them. And some of the more senior merchants might have sought his friendship in order to gain preferential rates.

But now Daniel had died because he was close to showing that Jordan was busy making money illegally. That might just lead a few people to investigate him more closely. That Keeper, or the Coroner … either could cause him some difficulty. He should have thought of this; should have planned this aspect better. He hadn’t thought that Juliana would tell her sister all, though. The bitches hadn’t seemed to trust each other before. Why should they start now? He couldn’t understand it.

Juliana was a threat. He had to remove her. Agnes thought she was safe with him, but she’d proved that she was as dangerous as her sister. In the past she’d been his ally; now it seemed she was her sister’s, first and foremost.

He could do the same as before, maybe: pay someone else to kill them both while Jordan was visible somewhere else, prominently drinking or playing with his companions …

Jordan frowned. Perhaps he was being too sensitive. If he went to Juliana and spoke to her, he’d soon see whether Agnes had been telling the truth. Just the first moment of entering the room would tell him whether Juliana had really said what Agnes said she had. And if she hadn’t?

If Juliana knew nothing, God help her sister: if Juliana knew nothing, Agnes must have realized herself what had happened, and she was the threat.

Although it was plain that Baldwin and the Dean were not amused at the tale or his own outburst, their seriousness only added to Simon’s mirth. He couldn’t help it — the sight of the Dean wriggling like a fish on a hook at having to confess to his chapter’s foolishness was too delightful.

‘Dean, I am deeply sorry. Please excuse my foolishness. I don’t know what caused it,’ he managed after a pause.

‘It is no, ah, laughing matter, bailiff. This goes to the heart of our chapter. It would be seriously embarrassing to the Bishop were this all to come into the open.’

Baldwin cleared his throat. ‘You want our advice?’

‘Please.’

‘Prepare for the worst. They have you, Dean. You have one hothead who has created this problem. You could try to punish him and make an exhibition of him.’

‘Why, for preventing the friars from going ahead with a funeral when they were not entitled to the estate? The fellow could have been innocent. Others have done the same, after all.’

‘So you say,’ Baldwin said.

Simon was confused by one aspect. ‘The Bishop will support you and the canon involved, won’t he? Well, then. Tell the friars to go and …’

‘Just my thought, which was why I considered a little more deeply, bailiff. I believe that they know that this could embarrass our Bishop. If, um, it was to the advantage of someone to harm the Bishop, they might, ah, choose to make the chapter the means of his destruction, might they not? They could, er, think that there was some form of amusing justice in such a plan.’

‘But how could they think to embarrass the Bishop? They’d have to have powerful allies to do that,’ Simon scoffed, but then his humour disappeared. ‘You mean the Despensers?’

‘I prefer not to think of any one person in particular,’ the Dean said precisely, but he lowered his head and peered at the two men from under his brows. ‘But think what a gift it would be to cementing their power if the only man who stood against them in the King’s favour was himself damaged. If he could be dragged back here to help sort out a dispute, that would give unfettered rein to their ambitions.’

Baldwin blew out a long breath. ‘That is a dangerous line of thought, Dean.’

‘You think I don’t realize that?’ the Dean snapped. His brow was furrowed again as he bent his head and twisted his ring about his finger.

Simon shot a look at Baldwin. The knight was clearly upset by this news, and the Dean was gravely concerned. To Simon’s mind the matter was less worrying than they seemed to think. The Bishop was a powerful magnate, twice the Lord High Treasurer to the King. ‘Tell me, wasn’t he an ally of the Despensers, though? I thought that he was made Treasurer in the first place because of his closeness to the Despensers. Wasn’t that right?’

‘I believe so,’ the Dean answered. ‘But, um, he disagreed with the King about allowing them back into the country after they had been exiled. He resigned, you remember? He is back in the King’s favour again now, but it has been a hard struggle for him. Although he’s the Treasurer again, I believe the Despensers haven’t forgotten he wanted them permanently exiled. They have long memories, and are vindictive. If they could, I believe they would crush him.’

‘What do you want us to do about it, Dean?’ Baldwin asked.

‘I want you to discover whether there is a scheme afoot to blacken the Bishop’s name and ours. I want to know whether this nonsense about the body was deliberately concocted. And there is one other thing: a robbery in the chapter. The friars are bruiting abroad the fact that a miserable merchant came to our cathedral, made use of our hospitality, and then accused us of robbing him. A Master Gervase de Brent.’

‘Was he actually robbed here?’

‘I do not know. I shall introduce you to a vicar — Thomas of Chard. He is an old companion of mine, a sound fellow. He has heard that the man Gervase was seen wandering down near the stews with another man the day he reckoned to have lost his money.’

‘And?’ Simon prompted.

The Dean gave a twisted smile. ‘I have heard that a man might easily be robbed in a place like that, Master Bailiff. What do you think? Is it possible?’

Jordan was not a man to let the grass grow under his feet. If action was needed, he would take it. His decisiveness grew as his headache retreated.

The interview with his lover had been unsettling. It wasn’t terribly important. Damn it, if she was a threat, he would destroy her. He’d had some pleasure with her, but that was all in the past now. Soon she must grow to appreciate that Juliana’s fear of him was well founded. And he hadn’t necessarily finished with her , either. Her children were Daniel’s too, and he wasn’t content to leave any survivors who could later come and threaten him. There was no point leaving enemies alive; he had learned long ago that the only safety lay in utter ruthlessness. And he was ruthless.

He was unsettled, yes, but perhaps it was good that he was. It meant he could view the situation rationally. First, he had to assess the threat from Juliana. If he could, he would let her live. There was no point in building up too many corpses. If she appeared willing to forget the accusation that she had made against him and would agree not to denounce him, she could live. And so could her children. And Agnes, come to that — unless she were to persuade Reg to confess to Jordan’s part in the matter: the money paid and fact that it was all Jordan’s idea to murder the sergeant. That would put paid to his defence that he was out gambling and whoring on the night Daniel died. Conspiracy to murder was as bad as actually dealing the lethal blow.