Michael Jecks - The Chapel of Bones

‘It wasn’t just a few men in the city with an axe to grind, either. It was a whole mixture of people, many of them from the Cathedral. No one wanted this idiot Lecchelade foisted on us. There were vicars, men like Stephen … poor devil.

‘So that night we all went to the Close and hung around until the end of Matins. That place where the chapel is now, that was where Lecchelade’s house stood, and we knew we had to jump on him before he could go inside. It was William’s idea, I think, to get the rumour to the Chaunter that there was going to be an attack, but that the Bishop had set up his own men to catch us in the act. It worked like a dream, too. The Chaunter couldn’t tell what sort of counter-attack was being planned, because he was in the Cathedral running the service. All he knew was that Matthew, his darling boy, had said that all was under control. Matthew was so well-trusted by the Chaunter that his word wouldn’t be doubted. And William told us not to kill him, so most of us guessed he was in on it.

‘Stephen was with us, of course. From the first moment, he was in ahead of me. I think he had some other reason to hate the Chaunter, but I don’t know why. Anyway, just before we could attack, a novice called Vincent ran up and tried to warn the Chaunter. The fool nearly messed the whole thing up. Luckily, Nicholas didn’t realise. He had heard there might be an attack, and when Vincent rushed at him in the dark, Nick pulled out his dagger and saw him off.’

Wymond heard the words like a blow to his heart. Joel’s matter-of-fact tone only added to the insult, to his sense of loss. He felt his son’s hand on his shoulder, and forced himself to be calm. He wouldn’t break down in front of an accessory to his brother’s murder.

Joel continued, ‘After that, we all piled in. Thomas slashed at Nicholas and did that damage to the poor sod’s face, while the rest of us set to at the Chaunter and his gang. Someone knocked Matthew down — I think that was William — and the rest of us did what we could. Only later did I see William with the Chaunter. He was holding his dagger in the Chaunter’s breast and twisting the blade. He was the murderer of Walter — I swear it.’

‘What do you gain from telling us this?’ Simon asked.

‘Revenge! Afterwards I saw that there was some mileage to be gained from the fact that the Southern Gate was left wide open all night. When the King arrived, I decided I’d mention this, because the old King was quite generous. I told my friend William, but before I could speak to the King, I learned that William had already told him. Edward rewarded him with money and a place in the royal household.

‘I was furious. I’d told William before, see — so that he wouldn’t get angry with me. Even then he was a ruthless shite, and I didn’t want him sticking a knife in my back for some supposed insult in later years. As it was, I wanted to get him instead. He stole my idea and my savings, and took my reward, the thieving git!’

‘And that was that,’ Baldwin commented.

‘There’s nothing more to tell,’ Joel said. He looked tired now, as though he had worked hard at his tale. ‘I wanted you to know the truth so that no lies could confuse the issue later.’

‘Why did you choose to tell us?’

‘Because I want William to pay for what he did. Look — I’ve had a good life. If I’d gone to the King’s service instead of him, I’d not have met my Maud and might well be dead in a Scottish ditch somewhere by now. No, I reckon I’ve done better here than I would have, taking on the life of a warrior. But that doesn’t mean that I’d happily see him rewarded for his murder. I saw him kill the Chaunter — it’s wrong that he should live out his days with a King’s corrody after that.’

Baldwin nodded, but in truth he was not very interested. His wound was giving him pain again, and the convoluted motivations of this man were of little import to him. He would prefer to return to his room and rest as the physician had suggested.

It was Simon who said, ‘I don’t think the King will take kindly to hearing that the man his father rewarded so well was in fact a murderer guilty of the crime he reported. The Corrody will probably be returned.’

‘Good. I wouldn’t want to think that the man was going to survive without punishment.’

‘Do you not think others deserve some punishment?’ Vincent burst out. ‘After all, you yourself helped to get that man murdered, then sought to reward yourself as you could, reporting about the gate being left open, all for your own advantage and the devil take the others!’

‘Be quiet, Vince. I didn’t tell you to stay here, and I won’t have you speaking disrespectfully in front of all these people.’

‘You are a murderer and accomplice of murderers, Master ,’ Vincent spat. ‘I can speak to you how I wish.’

‘I’ve never committed murder,’ Joel declared stiffly.

‘You’ve plotted it, you’ve helped others kill, and you even planned to report the gate, which led to two men being wrongly hanged,’ Vincent said hotly.

‘Boy, be silent! I won’t have you talk like this.’

Simon beckoned the apprentice to him. ‘Joel, you know the man called Vincent whom Nicholas, so you say, killed? Did you never wonder that your apprentice had this fellow’s name?’ He put his arm about Vincent’s shoulder.

‘Vincent?’ Joel said dully. ‘You’re related to him?’

‘He would have been my uncle.’

‘Christ Jesus!’

‘So I think,’ Simon continued, ‘that you ought to agree that this young man’s contract is finished. Vincent here wishes to set up shop, and it would be a right neighbourly thing for a boy’s master to lend him the money to get him started — don’t you agree?’

Thomas would never forget the sight of Sara, lying there on the bench, blood all over her. The mere thought could make the hairs rise on the back of his neck. In that moment, he thought he had lost her, and that he was the agent of a terrible fate.

Yet then he had reminded himself that the death of Saul was nothing to do with him. It was Matthew, trying to kill him, who had caused the rock to fall. Nor had Sara’s little son Elias died because of Thomas. If anything, he had saved her life.

He sobbed as he huddled over her body, listening to the soft thudding of her heart. Dear God, soon she would be dead! While the men about him were carrying Baldwin and Jeanne from the room, Edgar tottering after them, Thomas knelt there, cradling Sara’s frail body, until she gradually stirred and he felt her hand on his head.

He was convinced this was her death. She was going. He ought to demand that she confess her sins. It was his duty to a fellow Christian, and there was dispensation for a man to hear a Confession when there was no priest available. He pulled away from her, preparing himself to speak the viaticum , and then he saw her eyes open. There was a glazed look in them, and he burst out with more sobbing, only to hear her say, ‘What’s happened? Where am … what is all this !’

‘You’ve been wounded.’

‘Where?’

She sat up and he retreated, staring, still convinced that she must be about to die. The blood was so fresh.

It was only when he stumbled over the dead Treasurer’s body that he realised the truth, and even then it took his brain some while to accept the glorious fact that she was fine.

Baldwin was clearly very tired, and Simon had to help Edgar support him on the way back to the inn where the knight and his wife were staying. Simon put Baldwin into his chamber, resting him on his bed, and then left Jeanne and Edgar seeing to his needs while he went about the city.

The murder of the saddler and the Friar was all but concluded, of course. There were only a few loose cords to collect together. And Simon had an idea of one man who could help him: Thomas, the man who had been trying to flee the place when they found him at some woman’s house. Except no one seemed to have seen Thomas since the death of Stephen. His whereabouts were a mystery.