Michael Jecks - The Chapel of Bones

‘They fired you, then?’ she cackled. ‘Not surprised, if all you can do is kill off their other workers.’

‘I …’

Thomas was quiet as a shadow slipped in through the door. In sudden fear he recognised the quick movements of Sara’s son, Dan. He couldn’t see the boy because the door was behind him, but the shadow was terrifying, the boy’s shape deformed and sly as it moved about the room until Thomas could see him. He saw the hatred in the lad’s eyes: the fellow would draw his little pocket-knife at the first opportunity.

‘Well, Master Thomas, I think you would have been better served to have waited for us at the Cathedral, rather than trying this frankly unorthodox approach to gaining our attention.’

‘Is that the Keeper?’ Thomas demanded. He was scared still, but less so by the looming shadow that now appeared in front of him.

‘Lad, cut those thongs,’ Baldwin ordered, walking around in front of the man and squatting. ‘Now, Thomas, you are held under my authority and we are going to take you back to the Cathedral to the Bishop’s gaol. When we are there, we are going to ask you some questions, and this time I want the truth from you!’

Thomas let his head hang. ‘I will tell you everything.’

Matthew was surprised to be called to the Treasurer’s hall so late in the afternoon, and he hurried there as soon as the summons came. As the Warden of the Fabric Rolls, he was largely responsible for the new Cathedral as it was building, and if the Treasurer had found a problem with his calculations or book-keeping, he wanted to know about it as soon as possible. It was the one thing about his job that constantly preyed on his mind, this fear that one day there would be a false calculation found in his work.

It wasn’t very likely, of course. Most men, whether clerks or not, found it difficult to add and subtract the figures which had been passed down from antiquity by the Romans along with their venerable script for reading and writing. No man could argue that the Romans were not the most marvellous race of men so far created by God. They had built wonderful buildings, invented waterways and roads, and left a legacy of learning which was superior to any other civilisation.

‘You called for me?’

The Treasurer’s house was one of the smaller ones on the canons’ street. It fronted the Exchequer, and suited the modest requirements of the man who was, after all, one of the most powerful men in the Cathedral.

‘Yes, Matthew.’

He was looking old today, Matthew thought. Old and tired, like an apple left on the ground too long — not quite rotten to the core, but very close to it. He suddenly wondered whether the Treasurer would survive much longer. If he were to die, whom would the Dean select as his replacement from the members of the Choir? Surely it would be the man most attuned to the numbers which ruled the life of the Treasurer — the man who could understand the rolls and make the best of the money the Cathedral had allocated for this rebuilding. He suddenly felt a little light-headed.

‘This old affair of the murder of Chaunter Walter is springing up once more. It is regrettable, but there is little we can do to cover it all up if it comes into the open. I wanted to warn you, Matthew. I know that the whole thing must be deeply distressing for you, but there is nothing I or the Dean can do to stop it, I fear. The dead saddler was certainly involved in the attack, and of course the friar was there.’

‘Yes, I remember. Poor Nicholas. I was at his side when he won that terrible wound,’ Matthew said incomprehendingly. ‘But I don’t …’

‘Of course,’ Stephen said. ‘I wasn’t in the Cathedral that night, but when I returned, you were still in a fever, and Nicholas was at death’s door.’

Matthew nodded. It was odd how many men had apparently been out of Exeter that night. The Vicar of Ottery St Mary, for example, had been out of the Close; so had the Vicar of Heavitree. Both were later found guilty of being there at the murder, of course, and they’d paid heavily for their crime in the Bishop’s gaol.

Still, he told himself, there was no point raking up old suspicions. No one really wanted to go into the matter again.

‘If it were possible to ask these two men to hold their investigation, I should do so,’ Stephen said quietly, gazing up at the cross that hung on his wall above the screens passage.

Matthew found his manner disquieting, but then he told himself again that it must surely be Stephen’s great age. The man was exhausted, but he must carry on until he collapsed. That was the sort of man he was.

And then a more unnerving idea came to him: perhaps the Treasurer had been one of the men attacking — it might even have been him who knocked Matthew down on the night he so nearly died. A man who had done that would later make amends in any way he might. He could take a novice into his own department and see to it that he was well and carefully trained and nurtured, so that he would himself become indispensable.

Matthew found himself studying his mentor with a feeling of prickly nervousness running up his spine. This man, the one who had given him the better posts, who had looked after him in forty years of life at the Cathedral, had once been there trying to kill him just because … Why?

‘Stephen,’ he said quietly. ‘Was it you struck me down?’

The Treasurer was still staring at the cross. He blinked then, as though the cross had itself stung him. There was a slight moisture at the corner of his eye, Matthew saw, and he felt the shock thrill through him before Stephen had even answered.

‘The Chaunter was divisive,’ Stephen said. ‘He was a malign influence on the Cathedral — my God, anyone could see that!’ His eyes were on the cross again, as though pleading his sincerity. Gradually his eyes fell, and he turned his attention back to Matthew. ‘But I swear to you, Matthew, I never wanted to see you or anyone else harmed! Only him ! He was evil, a man who would divert us all from our tasks and drive a wedge between the Bishop and his Chapter. Who could want to leave him in power when his entire efforts were dedicated to ruining us all? Any man who had a relationship, no matter how tenuous, with the Dean and Treasurer, was detested by de Lecchelade, and belittled and demeaned. No one who held the good reputation and honour of the Cathedral in his heart could tolerate his behaviour.’

‘He was the Treasurer, wasn’t he?’

‘Dean Pycot? Yes. And perhaps he should have given that up earlier, but it’s a man’s nature to keep to the job he knows and with which he feels most comfortable. Dean John was like you, Matthew. He was excellent when it came to numbers; they held no secrets for him. It was possible for him to run a finger down a roll and when he reached the bottom, he could tell you the total. As fast as this,’ he demonstrated, running a forefinger down a column. ‘I could never emulate that, so I never thought I should take over from him.’

‘He was your master?’

‘I lived with him. I was Clerk to the Works at the time, and when Dean Pycot was made Dean I couldn’t take over. I was too young, Matthew. Far too inexperienced.’

‘It has been said that the Dean siphoned away a great deal of money.’

‘Such accusations are easy to level against another man,’ the Treasurer said dismissively. ‘It is a great deal harder to prove that you are innocent.’

‘So you took his part during that attack?’

‘I swear I didn’t hurt you, Matthew,’ Stephen said. He looked at Matthew again with real fear in his eyes. ‘I have wanted to tell you so many times in the last four decades, but there has never seemed to be the right moment. At first you were so badly beaten, it seemed ridiculous to add to your trials by saying I was myself one of those who might have hurt you; then when you were healed, it seemed foolish to risk my own position; more recently, it seemed madness to try to bring up long-dead history again.’