Michael Jecks - The Chapel of Bones

Jeanne was back inside the room when there came a knock at the door, and the tall, black-clad figure of the Treasurer peered inside. With him was a chorister with a tray that held bread and cheese and a large bombard filled with wine. Jeanne took the leather flagon from the tray to help the struggling boy, and set it down on the table. The tray was carried past her and placed beside it.

‘How is he?’ Stephen asked in a low voice.

‘He is as well as can be expected,’ she said. ‘It is fortunate that the arrow missed any arteries and his lungs. It could have been much worse, although it is bad enough. A wound like this could kill a much stronger man. We must pray for him.’

‘I am so sorry about it,’ Stephen said. He made as though to approach the bed on which Baldwin lay snoring gently, but suddenly he was stopped by Edgar. It was his hand, rather than his sword, which ungently prevented the Treasurer from going closer, but Stephen was left in no doubt that were he to persist, the sword would soon be added to the argument.

‘No one goes close other than his wife,’ Edgar said with a smile.

Stephen nodded uncertainly, looking down at the knight’s wounded figure. ‘I am so sorry,’ he repeated.

Jeanne said, ‘It is terrible that such a thing could happen here in the Close.’

‘It is a source of shame to us all,’ he agreed.

‘But the man responsible is soon to be caught. The posse will bring him back here, and then we can all rest easy in the knowledge that the whole matter is finished.’

‘I hope so,’ Stephen said. ‘I hope that they can bring him back safely.’

‘You care deeply for him?’

‘He was from my own familia . I was his mentor. I taught him all I knew in order that he could become Treasurer in my place. Matt is so skilled with the numbers and controlling the works, much more so than most. He would have been an excellent Treasurer.’

‘If he did this, he deserves death,’ Jeanne said tightly, gesturing to Baldwin.

‘Of course. Of course. Murder is wrong in any case,’ Stephen said hurriedly. ‘I shouldn’t dream of suggesting otherwise. I was just thinking, if he were innocent of this terrible attack, and the murders, he would have been a good candidate.’

Jeanne said nothing. So far as she was concerned, the man who had done this to Baldwin deserved to pay with his life.

Stephen could sense her feelings, and went on: ‘It is only that the Cathedral needs men who can serve the rebuilding, you see. Although we will never live to see the full beauty of our work here, will never see the fruition of all our plans, nevertheless we must work to ensure that God’s House is completed. It is our duty.’

‘God would scarcely want a murderer to work on His House,’ Jeanne commented. ‘No, Treasurer. There is nothing you can say which could possibly excuse the man. He is a low assassin, who tried to slay my husband in order to prevent the full story of his crimes becoming known.’

‘Perhaps so.’

‘So it is best that he be caught as soon as possible, and then caged or slain in his own time. There is no other way to deal with a murderer.’

Stephen looked at her sadly. She saw the desperate need for her understanding and compassion in his eyes, but she couldn’t reciprocate. All Jeanne wanted to see just now, was the lifeless body of her man’s attacker.

Simon had taken a horn from Janekyn to start the process of the Hue and Cry, blowing three times as loudly as he could. Before long he had a goodly crowd of men, all struggling and pushing.

Thomas tried to set off after them, but Simon grabbed his arm. ‘No, Thomas. You can’t leave the Close.’

‘Why not? I couldn’t have hurt the knight. You said so yourself!’

‘I know, but you were responsible for other deaths, weren’t you? You took a part in one many years ago, and you caused the mason’s death too. You had best stay here.’

‘I won’t, I-’

‘Man, you’ll stay here!’ Simon rasped. He had no time to argue. ‘If you won’t, you’ll be set back in the gaol, understand me? I won’t have you wandering the town in case someone takes it into their head to punish you for that, if nothing else! Now for God’s sake shut up, before I shut you up myself!’

Leaving Thomas in the Close, Simon and Sir Peregrine went outside to organise their men. One group was to hurry towards the East Gate, checking the buildings and fields that lay about the Crolditch outside the city walls. The second, under Sir Peregrine’s leadership, would take the Carter’s Road that followed the line of the river down towards the estuary, while the third would take the Magdalene Street. Simon chose to lead this group himself. He had a feeling that Matthew would avoid the coast so near to Exeter, and would instead make for the east.

Simon had a horse, but many of his party did not, and he was frustrated by the need to hang back and wait for the slowest of the men. As was usual, the Hue and Cry had raised all those who were nearest and who were able to help. There were boys of perhaps thirteen, to look at them, and one toothless old man who must have been over sixty and had no place in Simon’s team. Simon cajoled and swore at them all to make them move faster, but some of them could barely keep on their feet after only perhaps a half mile or so, just as they were reaching the Magdalene bridge by the lepers’ hospital.

In the end his patience ran out. He bellowed to the two other mounted men to come with him, ordered the others to go home — since they would scarcely be necessary anyway, to catch only one man — and spurred his mount.

The beast was one of the Dean’s own rounseys, and had muscles like corded rope. As soon as Simon gave him his head, he felt a charge of energy explode in the animal’s shoulders and haunches, and then he was hurtling onwards, the air suddenly cool on his cheeks, the wind tugging and pulling at his clothing, his sword’s sheath banging rhythmically at his side. There was little in the way of good road here, and although the sun had been out all day, the passage was rutted and muddy from the wheels of many carts bringing food and goods to the markets that made Exeter so wealthy. He thundered on, feeling the exhilaration that a powerful horse can give a rider when it obeys his commands.

He rode on with a keen delight. This was how he was born to live: riding a good animal quickly in pursuit. And today he had a more pressing desire than normal to track down the runaway. He must capture and punish the man who had tried to kill Baldwin.

The route grew darker as they came across a wood and sheltering trees, and there were twists and turns in the path, growing rapidly muddier and more filthy, until they had covered perhaps a mile and a half, and then at last Simon saw Matthew.

The Vicar was seated at the side of the road, his face hidden in his hands, back against a great beech tree’s trunk. Simon allowed his mount to slow, reining in gently, and the rounsey gradually took notice, if reluctantly. When he was level with the man, Simon drew his sword and pointed it. ‘You, Matthew, I accuse you of murder, and I will have you return to Exeter to answer to the judges.’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ Matthew said brokenly. ‘It was an accident.’

Simon felt his anger bubble, and he could easily have dropped from the horse and beaten the feeble cur. ‘I suppose the bow leaped into your hands when you saw Baldwin there, did it? And the arrow flew and pierced his breast all on its own, eh? You are evil, man. Scum!’

‘I believe him,’ said Wymond, and Simon turned to see the grim-faced old tanner behind him at the other side of the road.

‘Who are you?’

‘Wymond. I live on Exe Island — I have a tannery there. This man, I thought, was one of those responsible for the murder of my brother when he tried to save his master, Chaunter Walter, many years ago. You’ve heard all about this, aye? Well, my brother Vincent was there. He called to the Chaunter to warn him, but a fellow cut him down, and over the years people in the Cathedral have tried to say that my Vince was as guilty as the others, that he was a traitor, involved in the attack, but he never was! It was those who were guilty, who passed that story about.’