Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

‘What?’ Baldwin asked.

‘I have listened to the confessions of many people,’ Thomas said lightly, but with reservation. It was clear that he would say no more, but it was enough.

Paul continued, ‘He would certainly prefer not to be rooted here in business at the cathedral, I’m sure. No, he has enough interests already with his women down at the stews.’

‘You have heard he is involved down there with the prostitutes?’ Baldwin asked.

‘There is a large brothel there which is said to be his own. And at least one other down at Topsham.’ Paul nodded.

‘How did you get to know so much about him?’ Baldwin asked.

‘All from Daniel. He saw it as his life’s work to remove Jordan from the city, I think,’ Paul said, and then his manner grew more genuinely morose. ‘But I fear that if anything, Jordan succeeded in removing Daniel instead.’

Gervase de Brent was proud of his name. In Brent he was thought of as a merry fellow, with the happy-go-lucky attitude that meant others would always enjoy his company in a tavern or alehouse. He was the sort of man who sought friendship, but had lost his ability to discern the difference between those who liked him for his nature and those who liked him for his money — although often, to be fair, they were the selfsame people.

Once Gervase had been moderately wealthy. He had owned two sheepfolds, a share in an inn, and several horses, but he had been unfortunate too often when playing at games of hazard. If he heard the rattle of knuckles, he was always too easily persuaded that a few pennies might be invested which could recoup the losses of the last few games.

What people like his wife didn’t realize was, there was always the chance of making good again. True, he’d had a bad run, but that just meant the good times must be closer. And as he told himself, there was always another game round the corner. As far as he was concerned, this run of bad luck had to stop soon. Things must improve, and then his wife would be happy again.

Actually, as soon as Mick came back they would probably get lucky again. Mick had said after that last evening that it was hard to imagine their fortunes going so badly for much longer. Of course, he laughed as he said it, because he was another like Gervase, a bold fellow with the temper of a knight. There was no loss that could possibly scare him; a man was never worried by details such as a little burst of misfortune. So Gervase had just bartered some plate and a ring or two, and waited until his run changed direction.

He was about to go and see if he could find a game when he heard two men asking about him. He didn’t recognize either of them, when he surreptitiously peered round a beam, but that didn’t matter. He hadn’t known Mick when he came here, and he didn’t know the other two when they offered to help him. These two didn’t look too dangerous. They weren’t employees of a pawnbroker or from a gambling den where he owed money, so far as he could tell.

‘My lordings, you wanted me?’ he asked in his best booming voice. The louder and deeper the voice, he always thought, the more bold and hearty a fellow sounded. Gervase liked to sound hearty.

‘You are Gervase de Brent? I am Simon Puttock, and this is Sir Baldwin de Furnshill. We would like to speak to you for a little.’

‘Is this about the robbery at the cathedral?’ Gervase asked hopefully.

‘Absolutely!’ the knight responded, and Gervase smiled, preening himself.

‘I thought I’d hear something soon. It is ridiculous to think that my loss should be ignored, as though any visitor to the cathedral can become a victim of crime in such a manner. Quite outrageous, really. To think that a man of business like me can be affected in that way.’

The two men persuaded him to join them in a darker part of the inn, out at the back, where they could sit and discuss the matter in peace, and Gervase walked after them trustingly. They were clearly sent to him by the cathedral’s chapter. The chapter was ashamed of their lapse. No chapter could afford to be thought to be harbouring a thief. No, as he’d been told, they wanted to make a deal. Well, that was no problem. God’s blood, he’d be happy with a couple of pounds. That’d be enough. He’d be delighted to forget the rest. Who cared?

‘You had your money stolen while you were in the cathedral, making use of their hospitality?’ the older man, the one called Sir Baldwin, asked.

‘That’s right. Someone must have taken it. I mean to say, you know what it’s like! I wouldn’t normally want to complain. It would embarrass the chapter, I dare say, eh?’ Gervase said, but then he set his face in a frown and leaned forward, shaking his head gravely. ‘But come, you and I are men of the world, yes? The last thing I would like to do is upset the Dean and chapter, but if there is one rotten apple, far better that it is removed before it can infect all the others in the barrel, eh? I think that it’s necessary to find that apple. Or at least to let him know he’s being sought. It’s not the money so much, you understand? It’s the idea that there should be a man in there who. ’

‘That is good. So you agree that you’ll not worry about claiming the money back?’ the knight said.

Gervase smiled through his teeth, although he was changing his opinion of the man. Clearly the knight was sent to minimize the loss to the chapter. ‘I don’t think I said I’d agree to lose so large a sum. It must seem a small amount to a noble knight, sir, but to a mere mean traveller and merchant like me, it’s a lot. But it’s important that the man is caught, too.’

‘What are you after?’ the other man asked. He had a smile on his face, and he looked like a fellow who was saying: ‘Come on, we’re all adults here. What do you really want, eh?’

Gervase smiled back. ‘Look, let’s be realistic, yes? All I want is the money I need to get back to Brent. It’s a long way. I’ve lost a small fortune, and I want to go home. What’s wrong with that?’

‘Nothing,’ the smiling man said, and then his smile seemed to flee his face and his head was lowered. ‘But if someone was trying to rob the cathedral, I might grow angry.’

‘Simon!’ the other said warningly. ‘There’s no need for that.’

‘This sodomite has accused the cathedral of robbing him, and you want me to treat him kindly?’

‘Simon, he’s just saving himself from the shame of confessing to what he’s done here, that’s all.’

Gervase made as though to stand. ‘I don’t need to listen to this!’

Simon stood up too. ‘Yes, you do!’ he snarled, and Gervase suddenly realized that these two were in his way to the door out of the tavern. He sat down again with a very hollow, sinking feeling in his belly.

‘First,’ Baldwin said, ‘how much do you owe to the brothel and the other gamblers? Were all your shillings thrown away on games of chance, or were some invested in the whores?’

‘I don’t know what you mean!’

‘Baldwin, let me hit him!’ Simon begged, standing again. Baldwin had to put out his hand, but he winced as he did so.

Gervase was suddenly very nervous. The sling about his neck showed that this Baldwin was injured. If his hot-headed companion decided to grow more aggressive, there might be little that the knight could do to stop him. He moved his stool a little farther from the table. ‘All right, all right, there’s no need for that! Yes, I lost a bit on the games. The tarts — well, you know — I was lonely. I’ve been travelling for some time now, and was on my way home.’

‘How much did you lose?’ Baldwin snapped.

‘About seven shillings.’

‘And you sought to claim six marks from the chapter?’ Simon sneered.

‘Look, it’s what people do, yes? That’s what they said, that the Church can afford to lose a little to a man like me, and when they have people who’ve lost a lot, they recommend that we demand it back from the chapter. The canons never quibble. They’ve got enough of their own, that’s what they said.’