Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

‘Just tell us what happened,’ Simon sighed.

‘He said that there was a poor knight who was being held in the priory of the Shod Friars, and the man ought to be brought back to be given a Christian burial in the cathedral. I knew what he meant, obviously. A funeral without permission in the friary would be illegal, so invalid. It was obviously better for the man’s soul that he should be brought back to be buried here, in the cathedral. No one could argue against that.’

‘Except Prior Guibert,’ the Dean said heavily.

‘What else did he want?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Nothing,’ Peter said.

Baldwin smiled slowly. There was a shiftiness about the man’s demeanour that reminded him of a misbehaving child. ‘Think again, Canon. And this time, remember your oath.’

Peter’s hand went back to his rosary and fingered the cross. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The other three in the room were silent. His internal deliberations were tormenting him, and his glance went from one to the other of his interrogators as he twisted his fingers and tried to seek a means of escape.

‘Dean, forgive me!’ he cried, and threw himself on the floor at the Dean’s feet. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, and if I could take back my actions, I would, but it was impossible! I confess! I would find out when a ship was arriving at the quay, and then tell Jordan le Bolle so that he could meet the sailors and lead them to debauch themselves in his brothel and gaming rooms, while Jordan had his men steal the cargo and replace it with rubbish. Later he would sell the cargo to the cathedral again.’

‘What was your price?’ the Dean asked harshly. ‘What did he pay you for your robbery of God’s palace and setting the cathedral chapter against the friars, to the shame and sadness of God Himself? What did you demand in return?’

‘He allowed me to visit his house at the southern gate.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘To visit Jordan’s women at his brothel?’

‘Yes. And my debts were held. He did not ask for payments. The debt was frozen.’

‘So that he could take you whenever he wanted and threaten to demand the money back. How long,’ Baldwin asked, ‘has all this been going on?’

‘Two years.’

‘Two years … and no one in the chapter or the city guessed?’ Baldwin said, appalled.

‘Only Daniel guessed. He accosted me about it once when he saw me leaving the gambling halls. He thought he knew what was going on in there. But he didn’t! He couldn’t realize how Jordan entwined a man about his fingers. He is the devil himself!’

Dean Alfred nodded to Baldwin. ‘Is there any more, do you think?’

‘I doubt it. I think he has told us enough, anyway.’

‘I think so too. Canon, return to your house and stay there while I decide what to do.’ He watched the canon leave, head hanging like a whipped cur’s. ‘There was a time when that fellow would have made an excellent Treasurer, or even Dean. Now he is ruined.’

‘Do not be too harsh on him,’ Baldwin said. ‘He couldn’t have realized what he was doing.’

‘But he sold his cathedral in order to avoid shame. That was unforgivable.’

‘What interests me is why the priory should have chosen this time to keep a body,’ Simon said slowly. ‘It is surely too much of a coincidence to think that the allegation of robbery happened just as Sir William died.’

‘It was no coincidence,’ Baldwin reminded him. ‘The man Gervase was told by this same Jordan to claim he had been robbed.’

‘And then the knight in the priory died,’ Simon agreed. ‘I wonder whether Jordan had a hand in that too?’

Baldwin nodded grimly. ‘Let us try Jordan himself, or his friend Reginald. Perhaps one or the other could be persuaded to speak the truth and confess.’

‘Which do you want to speak to first?’

‘The man Reginald lives near St Nicholas’s Priory, so I’m told,’ Baldwin said. ‘From all we have heard, Jordan le Bolle appears to be the stronger of the two. Let us start with this Reginald and see what we may learn. Then we should go to meet Jordan, but perhaps it would be as well to take men with us. He owns a gambling den, it seems he has a brothel and panders to protect his women, and he even dares to set men to defraud the cathedral, as well as setting the cathedral against the friars. He sounds like a man who could be dangerous. Perhaps we should speak to Sir Peregrine before we confront him.’

Agnes was furious. The idea that she might be simply cast out again … she had looked after the children, she had helped her sister move back into the house, she had done all she might to assist them, and yet as soon as Master Coroner with the shifty eyes appeared, she was unwanted again. It was sickening. She could scarcely control her fury as she slammed the door behind her and made her way along the street. The ungracious, miserable sow! How dare she simply wave her out, as though Agnes was little better than a maid!

She dodged a vast pile of horse droppings, and stopped just beyond, breathing heavily. Here she was at the top of the lane, and could gaze back down.

The river gleamed in the distance, reflecting the sun as it headed westwards over the road to Crediton, and the hills encircling Exeter seemed to shine, the sun shimmering on the few leaves remaining on the trees that smothered them, the reds and golds glistening. Autumn leaves, she thought, and suddenly the tears that had been stemmed so long burst from her.

It was unfair, so terribly unfair. Her sister had won Daniel when Agnes had wanted to have him, and now she was taking Sir Peregrine from under Agnes’s nose as well. It was terrible.

She sobbed. Autumn leaves, so beautiful, and then they fell and nothing remained, their beauty lost for ever. She was like them: her beauty was fading, and she was still without a husband. All she could manage was a lover, and he was already married. She was nothing more than a distraction for him. Nothing else. He couldn’t leave his wife. The Church wouldn’t allow him.

Turning back, she went to Gwen’s house. The idea of talking to a friend was now very appealing. She wiped her sleeve over her face. There was nothing else she could do. Her mind was numbed with misery, and her body was exhausted. She needed sympathy.

Gwen was sitting in her little parlour as Agnes entered.

‘Maid, you look terrible,’ Gwen said. She stood compassionately, her face twisted, and then a shot of pain went through her breast and she had to sit again suddenly. ‘Oh! That was a bad one.’

‘Gwen, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. How are you? I thought you would be staying with your sister tonight.’

‘Oh, Gwen. I feel so stupid. So lonely. I wish …’

Gwen smiled soothingly. She knew what Agnes wanted more than anything else. It was obvious the way she behaved around men. ‘You’ll soon have a man of your own, maid.’

‘Every man I look to, Juliana wins his heart.’

‘You are thinking of a particular man?’

‘No! No. Well, I admired that Coroner. He’s very attractive, I think,’ she said with a faint desperation in her voice. She scuffed the floor with a toe.

‘Juliana’s not after your man, maid. She isn’t interested — look,’ Gwen laughed, warming to her theme, ‘people have been talking about her to me. Oh, ever since Jordan went visiting at her house, people’ve said she was having an affair. Some said she killed Daniel to clear the way, but there’s nothing in that. What, do you think your sister would commit adultery? She wouldn’t think of it. And they’d have to do away with his wife, too, if they wanted freedom.’

‘Gwen?’ Agnes asked. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’