Michael Jecks - The Chapel of Bones

‘I thank you,’ Simon said, and set the tray on a table. Just now he was unsure whom to trust, and although the Treasurer was no doubt a safe, fair man, he wanted to ensure that no harm could come to Baldwin. That meant treating all food with caution, keeping others away from Baldwin, and making sure that he was safe at all times.

The Treasurer saw how Simon eyed the food. ‘It is good — do you want me to eat some of it in front of you?’ he asked.

There was a plaintive tone to his voice which made Simon give an apologetic shake of his head. ‘I must be cautious. Until the physician returns, I shall not be giving him anything.’

Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of Thomas in the custody of a young layman. Simon did not notice how Stephen shot a glance at Thomas and winced, before looking away again, his face slightly paler.

‘How are you?’ Simon growled.

‘As well as a condemned man could be,’ Thomas replied caustically as Simon pulled out his dagger and cut the thongs that bound his hands. He stood flexing his arms for a moment. ‘The Bishop’s gaol is not so comfortable as a mason’s shed, although I daresay it’s better than some other prisons. Could I ask for some water to wash my hands? My palms are very painful still.’

‘My companion was attacked last night and almost killed,’ Simon said, motioning to the guard to fetch him a bucket. ‘I will find out who was responsible, and to do that I need to know everything you can tell me about the murder of the Chaunter and what has happened since you returned here.’

‘I’ve already told you all I can about the Chaunter’s death. I know nothing more.’

‘I know of Henry, Joel and William. Who else was involved?’

‘There were many of us — but not all are alive now.’

‘Well, who is, then?’ Simon said harshly.

Thomas gave him a long, considering look. ‘Very well.’ He reeled off a series of names. ‘As you can see, they are all members of the city’s nobility. Those who were members of the Cathedral at the time have mostly gone.’

‘Which ones haven’t?’

‘There are only two, I think. Peter, the acting Prior of St Nicholas, and one other: the Treasurer here, Canon Stephen.’

Simon stared at the Treasurer accusingly; the latter nodded, his eyes closed. Setting his jaw, Simon jerked his chin at the mason. ‘There was one more, wasn’t there? Matthew recognised you.’

‘Yes, he was there, but he was one of the Chaunter’s men.’

‘That could mean that he wanted his revenge on those who’d had a part in the Chaunter’s death.’

‘I doubt it. He’s been living here all these years alongside Henry Potell and Joel Lytell. What would make him suddenly become so lethal that he would seek to murder Henry and then the friar?’

‘The same goes for Joel — and the Treasurer here,’ Simon said. ‘Was it the arrival of the friar or William that caused the murders to begin? Or your arrival, of course.’

‘Mine?’ Thomas said, startled. ‘I’ve been here a year, in God’s name. Why should someone wait so long before starting to kill?’

Simon nodded. His eyes were gritty, and his tongue felt as though it was made of felt. He needed a draught of good ale and some food. The guard was returned now with the bucket of water, and seeing how Thomas winced as he dunked his hands in the chill fluid, Simon made a quick decision. He said to the guard, ‘Fetch us a plain loaf of bread and a jug of wine. Thomas, you and I need food. As far as I can see, you could have had nothing to do with the attempt on my friend and that makes you more reliable than many here. I’d like you to come with me.’

‘You’ll have to ask the Dean first. I think he wants me in his gaol.’

‘The good Dean will do as I demand,’ Simon said flatly.

Thomas had his mouth open as the scabs began to ease. His hands smarted and stung, but Simon’s tone made him forget the pain. Looking at the Bailiff, Thomas was struck by the cold ferocity in his eyes.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said.

‘I am,’ Simon said, and then he turned to the Treasurer. His voice was harder now, like a judge preparing to command an execution. ‘And now I want your story.’

Joel woke with his face aching a little less than the day before, and he was relieved to find that his breast was not so painful. Breathing was easier, and his first impression as he was helped from his bed by a servant was that he was healing quickly.

That was a notion quickly dispelled as soon as he stood. He coughed painfully, and had to grab his servant’s arm to stop himself falling. Stifling the curses which threatened to burst forth, he tried to stay calm. Excitement caused the pain to increase, and he had no desire to enhance this in any way.

Dressed at last, he carefully went down his steps one at a time and then grabbed a staff to help himself down the passage to his hall.

Maud was already waiting for him at their table, and he forced a smile to his face at the sight of her, not sure how she would be after his gaffe of the day before. ‘Not going to church today?’

She eyed him seriously. ‘I have already been.’

He nodded, and hobbled across the floor to her, dropping into his seat with relief. ‘I thought you’d waited for me.’

She nodded to the servant, who stood hovering at the doorway, and he began to usher in the other servants and apprentices. ‘No, Husband. I felt the need to go and pray for you.’

‘Now you know I’m a murderer, you mean,’ he said bleakly.

Maud turned to eye him. ‘Don’t be even more of a fool than you already are, Joel. I married you for love, and I’d be unaccustomed to life without you after all these years. Foolish man, I love you still.’

He stared at her. Theirs was a marriage of easiness. They hadn’t been fortunate enough to have children, but neither had blamed the other for that. As the priests said, it was God’s choice whether a union would be blessed, and both had enough contentment in the company of the other for their mutual happiness. They only rarely expressed their love aloud. Somehow it seemed a little immature — and unnecessary. ‘Am I such a fool?’ he wondered aloud.

‘Yes. For you’ve managed to upset that madman William while achieving nothing for yourself.’

‘It’s not my fault he’s upset,’ Joel grumbled. ‘He assumed I must have launched an attack on him because of the way he treated me in the past. If I wasn’t so important as I am, he’d have cut my throat and left me in a ditch. As it is, he’s done enough, hasn’t he?’

‘Where is Vince?’ Maud asked, momentarily distracted.

Joel’s brows lifted and he glanced about the room. True enough, there was no sign of the fellow, and Joel felt annoyed. He disliked his apprentices behaving lazily; even if he himself were a little late for his meal, like this morning, there was no excuse for them to copy his example. Just when he was going to repeat the question, Vince walked in.

‘You are late!’ Joel called.

‘Master, my apologies. My father was unwell last night, and I had to stay with him to tend him,’ Vince said.

‘You weren’t with some whore from the Grapes, then?’

Vince held Joel’s gaze with a cold contempt. ‘I don’t know that place, Master Joel.’

Joel felt sure that in a moment Vince would ask him what it was like inside, and he waited with the rage growing inside him, only to feel a curious blend of relief and annoyance when Vince curled his lip and looked away, striding off to wash his hands in the ewer.

‘What was all that about?’ Maud asked.

‘I don’t know. The boy’s unhappy about something, though.’

‘I shall speak to him, then,’ she responded. An apprentice was much like a son, after all. If one of their fellows was unhappy or in trouble, the Master was responsible. She could ask more gently than Joel — especially today, she thought to herself, taking in her husband’s wince and stifled gasp of pain as he shifted in his seat.