Michael JECKS - The Boy-Bishop's Glovemaker

‘No. Not a sight or sound. In fact we heard afterwards that a band attacked some people up towards Silverton, so maybe they’ve moved on. The posse must have missed them. Then again, who knows how long it was from Karvinel being thumped to when he got back to town?’

‘This wasn’t his only bad piece of luck this year, was it?’ Simon said.

‘Oh, the poor bugger’s been robbed at home, had his place burgled again, and fired. He won’t want to remember the year 1321: it’s been foul for him.’

‘And yet Karvinel and Vincent le Berwe get on well?’

‘I don’t know about “well”. They know each other, certainly. I believe they have some mutual business interests.’

‘Tell me, what was the document that Ralph Glover and le Berwe wanted you to sign?’

‘That? It was a sales agreement. Le Berwe had imported several bundles of basan and cordwain, and Ralph was buying it. He passed over the money after both had signed the document and the wagon was loaded at once. I saw it as I left to see Karvinel.’

‘You read the document yourself?’

‘Of course,’ he said patiently. ‘Vincent called me into the room just as Ralph left it to find a privy, and Vincent told me what they were proposing, which was for him to sell twenty dozens of basan and twelve of cordwain. I read it, and then Ralph came back, and he made his mark and stamped his seal upon the document, as did Vincent, and then me. Ralph was all frowns, though, and hardly looked at the document when he put on his mark.’

‘Why was Ralph like that? Because of Vincent’s business methods?’

‘No, it was a box of candles out in the screens. He told me later that he thought they were the Bishop’s – only the Bishop had his personal candles coloured that way or somesuch nonsense – and wanted me to find out where they had come from. I refused – I have little enough time to seek out all the bodies in Exeter and parts of Devon without searching for more mysteries. I told him, “No one from the Cathedral has asked me to investigate the Bishop’s candles,” but he was quite insistent. In the end I told him a few stolen candles were not my concern. If he was truly troubled, he should see the Constable or Bailiff.’

‘What did he say to that?’

‘Oh, he muttered something about duties and responsibilities, but then he shut up. I was right, you know. I have a hard enough job without finding myself more work.’

Baldwin paused, sipping. ‘What is the difference between cordwain and basan, I wonder?’

Roger drained his cup. ‘Cordwain is the finest goatskin from Cordova, carefully tanned and dressed; basan is good sheepskin tanned in oak or larch bark.’

‘How do you know that?’ Simon asked in surprise.

‘Bailiff, when you live in a town like this where there are many leather tanners, dyers, furriers and leatherworkers of all sorts, but which also happens to be a major port with hundreds of ships offloading cargoes of fine foreign leathers in our estuary at Topsham, you learn quickly.’ His face became thoughtful. ‘Perhaps that’s why Karvinel got robbed. His ship was unloaded down there at Topsham. Maybe someone there warned this gang of robbers and that’s how they got to know about him and his money.’

‘Coroner, how long would someone have had to watch the money being handed over before sending a message to his friends in the robber band? No, someone knew before Karvinel left the city that he was going to be bringing back a goodly haul in cash. The question is, how could a wandering band have learned such a thing?’

‘We’ll probably never know. At least one man involved was caught and dealt with swiftly. Maybe that was his job? Listening in taverns and alehouses for hint of such transactions.’

Baldwin looked doubtful. ‘Perhaps. But in the meantime, we clearly have three problems to resolve. The robbery from Karvinel, the murder of Ralph and the death of the clerk Peter. And I am intrigued by the fact of the purchase of the basan and cordwain – especially since it was a little while before the delivery of the jewels and money for the gloves.’

‘What has that to do with anything?’ cried the Coroner.

‘Perhaps nothing… but perhaps it has as much to do with it as the strange disappearance of Karvinel’s clerk after the robbery until Hamond was accused, or Peter’s anger in the tavern a short while later when he saw his master.’

And the frowning Baldwin would say no more.

Stephen sat at his table and waited patiently while his servant brought in a large platter with the pies and dishes. Another man bowed and placed the salt at his side, and then the trencher was before him, a small loaf at his side, which he methodically broke into four precise pieces. One quarter went straight into his alms dish for the poor, the rest was for himself.

He began to eat, his eyes on his guests. Adam looked as scruffy as usual. Stephen watched him fixedly until he took his own loaf of bread and dropped an offering into the alms dish. Gervase had told Stephen about the attack on Luke, so he was not surprised to see that Luke looked tired and pale. Stephen wondered whether he was feeling unwell. ‘Luke?’

In answer to his Canon’s kindly enquiry Luke assured him that he was fine, thanking him for his concern while, from the corner of his eye, he saw Adam smugly grinning to himself.

‘Thanks for the bread,’ Adam muttered a short while later.

‘What?’

‘The bread you left for me yesterday. It was lovely… Mmm.’

Luke stared, then glanced down at Adam’s plate. The bread didn’t look the same as the one he had carried yesterday, not at all. Adam was surely only trying to upset him. It was Henry who had thrown him into the shit.

‘Shame Henry came out a moment or two afterwards. I was going to roll your face in the crap and stuff it down your shirt. I think,’ Adam considered judicially, ‘I think I’ll do that later.’

Adam pulled off another piece of bread and studied it with a satisfied grin, but Luke hardly noticed. It had never occurred to him that it could have been Adam all the time – Henry’s presence had made his guilt so apparent. As he watched, Adam turned, shoved the bread into his mouth and chewed with a smile.

It wasn’t the half-loaf he’d dropped, but that was probably too old and stale for him. Or he’d eaten it earlier. Maybe he had, just so he could gloatingly tell Luke that he’d eaten it. Adam didn’t need it himself, not with his access to the bakery, for he often delivered loaves to Canons, and he could select his own, picking the largest when he wanted to. And now Adam was taunting him with the knowledge that he had stolen Luke’s own dried-up bit of bread. Adam had attacked him last night, and Luke had seen to it that Henry was punished.

Luke felt a simmering anger beginning to rise in him. He felt his face flush, his belly tighten and the muscles of his throat contract. It was hard to swallow. Somehow, he didn’t know how, he would have his revenge.

Stephen reached for the salt and glanced about the quiet table. Seeing Luke’s expression, he hesitated. It looked as though Luke was remembering his attack, he thought. Children like Henry could be horrible little beasts if they weren’t controlled. He hoped the matter hadn’t upset Luke too much. The boy did look rather peaky, he thought.

As Stephen was considering asking Luke whether he had thought of visiting the infirmarer, Adam hiccuped. He went a little pale as he burped again and glanced apologetically at Stephen. He felt rather appalled that he might have offended his Canon. All knew how Stephen hated noise at his dining table. He was the precise opposite of a courtly noble: there was no place at his table for frivolity or merriment. Dancers and musicians were unwanted. It was like living with a saint, but a saint with a streak of cruelty, Adam thought. Stephen could be unkind when he wanted. Sometimes he would use his tongue to pull a man apart, reducing even a strong fellow to a quivering wreck in a short time. Adam looked up warily and saw that Stephen’s gaze had moved on. That was a relief.