The Chapel of Bones: (Knights Templar 18) (45 page)

Simon peered closer. It was early days, but the wound didn’t
appear to have become too inflamed as yet. He prayed that Baldwin might survive.

Paul backed towards the door, his eyes fixed on Edgar’s bright sword.

Watching him, Simon suddenly frowned. ‘Have you seen the Coroner recently, Paul?’

The Annuellar shook his head quickly. ‘Not today, sir, no. I think he went into the town.’

‘What of the inquests? Has he said when he will hold them?’

‘He has ordered the bodies of the friar and the mason to be disinterred so he can examine them. I think he means to hold all three inquests at the same time, and he has still to view all the bodies from the crush in the street outside St Nicholas’s Priory.’

‘I had forgotten all that,’ Simon breathed. So many deaths in such a short time. The city was filled with distraught people. Everybody must know someone who had died recently. Yet there was nothing new in that. People died all the time, whether from brawls or illnesses or accidents. There was always somebody who was mourning for a child or parent or lover.

And there was one man who was perhaps mourning for people who had died here many years ago. Who could be so angry and bitter that he still sought to avenge that murder?

With that thought he was about to speak to Thomas when there was a noise in the gateway outside: the tramp of heavy boots and an angry voice shouting, ‘Get your hands off me, you fornicating son of a diseased whore! What are you, you piece of shite! Brave when I’m bound, aren’t you, but wait until I get a chance to pull a dagger on you, man, and we’ll see how fucking brave you are then, eh?’

Simon glanced at Edgar, puzzled, but then he saw Thomas grit his teeth and suddenly recognised that furious voice. It was
William again. Making a quick decision, Simon pulled the door open and walked outside. Thomas was immediately at his back, and Simon heard Baldwin’s weak voice demanding to be able to hear what was going on. Edgar chuckled, and when Simon shot a look behind him, he saw the servant standing at the side of the doorway, his sword in his fist, the blade held at the ready across his body. No one would get past him to enter the room.

‘Oho, Bailiff!’ laughed Sir Peregrine. He was at William’s side, holding onto a thong which bound the man’s wrists. ‘Here’s a fine man. He tells me he is the King’s corrodian, yet I found him attacking a poor merchant in his fiancée’s house. A strange way to behave, wouldn’t you say?’

From where he stood, Simon could smell the sour wine on William’s breath. ‘I wished to ask this man a couple of questions.’

‘Please do so. I was about to take him to the city’s gaol, but he claimed benefit of clergy since he’s a corrodian, and I am on my way to ask the Dean what he thinks I should do with him. It cannot hurt to have him lodged here, I suppose – but I should prefer to see him in the city’s custody if there is to be a fine laid upon him!’

Simon was uninterested in Peregrine’s legal ramblings. ‘William. You told us how you took part in the murder of the Chaunter all those years ago. You also implicated two innocent men, didn’t you? You told the King that the gate had been left open, knowing that he would hang those responsible, and knowing that he’d reward you for your information.’

‘If you know so much, what do you want from me?’ William snapped. ‘Get these damned thongs from me, you bladder of pus! Release me, I’m the King’s man. Don’t dare to hold me! Bailiff, release me. I won’t stand here like a common felon.’

‘You are worse than a common felon!’ Simon roared. He shoved William, almost pushing him over. ‘You lied to the King in his court, and committed perjury, didn’t you? You denied taking part in the murder itself.’

‘Why should I confess to something like that? Who says I was there?’

‘I do,’ Thomas said. ‘I was there, and I accuse you, William. You were guilty. You stabbed the Chaunter’s vicar as he lay on the ground, and you stabbed the Chaunter himself. I saw you. I accuse you of murder. You beat Matthew, too, and—’

‘Wait!’ Simon blurted. ‘Matthew? You hit him? Why not kill him?’

‘I deny this! It is all false! Release me!’

Thomas shook his head. ‘We grew up together. I doubt he wanted to kill an old companion.’

‘Sweet Jesus!’ Simon moaned. ‘That was it, wasn’t it? Matthew was another like you, William. That whole dispute was between people from the city and people who were foreigners, wasn’t it? The new Bishop, Quivil, was a stranger, and men like you supported the Dean, John Pycot, against him. All those who sought to support the Chaunter were from outside the city, weren’t they? And there was one man in his
familia
who was from inside the city: Matthew. I’ve heard from the Prior Peter that he used to play ball with you and him. Matthew was a city man, so of course he wouldn’t support the Chaunter or the Bishop.’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’ William sneered.

‘It was him, wasn’t it, William? Matthew lied to the Chaunter and made him feel safe. Matthew wasn’t an ally of the Chaunter. His loyalty was first to Exeter, second to the Cathedral.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ William blustered.

‘Matthew was no hero that day, was he?’ Simon pressed.
‘He lied to his master, deliberately, in order to persuade him to go out into the Close to his death.’

‘Maybe he did, but that’s got nothing to do with me,’ William said.

‘Except someone must have got Matthew to tell the lie.’

Peregrine was looking at Simon with the expression of one who is unsure what he is hearing. ‘What lie was that, Simon?’

‘This man told Matthew to take part in an attack on the Cathedral’s Chaunter; he was to forewarn the Chaunter of the attack, but then lie, telling him that the Bishop himself knew of it and would position guards to protect him. The story was, they wanted to catch the assailants red-handed so that they could be tried for the attempt at murder. It was a good story, too, one which made sense – and it was invented by this man here, this shrewd fellow William. Afterwards, he also invented a story about the Southern Gate being left wide open, and caused the Mayor and the porter of the Southern Gate to be executed, solely that William could earn favour in the eyes of the King. And since then, he’s been a contented member of the King’s household.’

‘Why is he here, then?’ Sir Peregrine asked.

‘The King bought him a pension at St Nicholas’s Priory – as payment for his years of service.’

‘It’s all invention, true enough,’ William spat. ‘It’s invented by
you
! Coroner, if you insist on holding me here, the least you can do is protect me from the misguided rantings of a fool like this. Are you going to put me in a cell or not?’

Sir Peregrine glanced at Simon. ‘Are you sure of this?’

‘As sure as I can be.’

‘In that case, Corrodian, you are coming back to the city’s lockup. I’ll need to consider the case with the Justices of Gaol Delivery. After all, the King may like to hear about the matter.
It sounds as though he has been rewarding you for years of deceit after committing a foul murder.’

‘You can’t be serious! I’m a King’s man, damn your cods!’

‘Which is why you’re going to gaol,’ Sir Peregrine said serenely.

‘Wait! What if I admit? If I approve?’

Sir Peregrine and Simon exchanged a look. Simon said, ‘If you become a King’s Approver, the Justices may be lenient and save your neck.’

‘I will approve! I admit my crimes, and I admit that I also persuaded Matt to tell the tale to the others, but it wasn’t for love of the city – Matthew did it for money. He always wanted more money! That was why he agreed to help have the Chaunter killed. Joel helped, and Henry, but without Matthew, we’d not have succeeded.’

‘So you admit your part in that murder?’ Sir Peregrine demanded.

‘Yes. I was one of the assassins. I helped kill the Chaunter and his
familia
. I did it to help the city, but Matthew did it from his lust for money. He was a mercenary.’

Sir Peregrine sucked his teeth. ‘Bailiff?’

‘I am content with that. I think you’d better take him to the city gaol now.’

‘I don’t want to go there!’

Simon looked at him for a long moment. ‘William, you have the choice of an ecclesiastical gaol, where the gaoler will be interested in how you tried to thwart the word of a Bishop, or a city gaol where you will be looked after by men who may respect your protection of city men. The choice is yours.’

There was no choice. Soon William was being taken up towards the East Gate, and shortly afterwards, Simon was back in Janekyn’s room. ‘You heard all that?’ he asked Baldwin.

The knight swallowed, and when he spoke his voice was a whisper. ‘Very clearly. Where is the man?’

‘He is usually to be seen on the scaffolding or in the Exchequer. I shall look there first.’

‘Good. But Simon, be cautious. The man has a good bow arm. He may look like a feeble old clerk, but I am proof that his arm is strong indeed.’

‘I shall be careful. Edgar, you stay here and guard your master and mistress. I will be back as soon as I know what has happened.’

The market was filled with people shoving and pushing, and Wymond allowed himself to be carried along with the general flow. At the outside were all the animals: songbirds in cages, kittens wriggling in larger crates, puppies tied to a post. There were stalls with sweetmeats, then the hawkers with apples and vegetables, and only at the top, nearer Carfoix, did he find the alley where he normally bought his bread. However, when he got to the shop he found that the boards were still up.

‘He’s been taken ill,’ a neighbour informed him with that restrained excitement that another’s misfortune will often bring out in a bystander.

Wymond chewed at his lip. There were other shops that sold bread, but he didn’t want to go back to the market. Instead he continued up the lane, which led to St Petrock’s Gate, a narrow way into the Cathedral Close. Intending to take a short cut up to the High Street, he went inside. A few yards from the church he suddenly saw the crowd of men. In their midst was William, a face he thought vaguely familiar, but the others were strangers to him. William was bound at the wrist, and Wymond wondered what he could have been accused of, to be tied up like that.

And then he heard the man’s confession and his shocking revelation that Matthew had helped plan the death of the Chaunter.

Matthew. The Clerk of the Rolls was known perfectly well to
Wymond. This man, who had been the sole survivor of the attack, who had been struck down at the beginning of the incident was himself guilty of causing the affray in the first place. He was one of the evil devils who had betrayed poor Vincent.

Wymond looked from William to the Exchequer, the building lay beyond the northernmost tower, and as he studied it, he saw the figure of a clerk among all the labourers on the scaffolding. The clerk was watching the group gathered at the Fissand Gate intently, then he slowly began to make his way along the scaffolding towards a ladder.

It was nothing for Wymond to walk idly down towards the Cathedral, around the wall of St Mary Major, along the line of houses, and over to the point where the ladder reached the ground. Once there, Wymond saw the clerk descend the last rung and then hurry along the paved roadway towards the Bear Gate.

Wymond gripped his bow more firmly and hastened after the man. He was certain now that this was his target. The clerk scurried along like a rat, his legs going all anyhow at speed, whereas Wymond could march steadily and cover a great distance with each stride.

At the point where the Bear Gate met the street, Matthew turned left, heading down towards the Southern Gate of the city; and now there were more people to block Wymond’s sight, but he was sure of Matthew’s direction, and didn’t hesitate. By continuing to the gate, Wymond knew that soon he would be out of the city itself and back in the open wildlands where he had slept last night. Once through the old gate, there were fewer people, since all were heading
into
the city from the suburbs to buy their food, just as he had done. He sighted his quarry ahead, taking the Magdalene road, and Wymond felt delight stirring in his breast. This would be an easy shot!

Thomas couldn’t wait while Simon and Peregrine split up their men, some to take William to the city’s gaol, others to go with them to find Matthew. Instead he hurried across the Cathedral Close to the Exchequer and burst in through the door. He met Stephen’s scandalised glare with an angry stare of his own.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ the Treasurer demanded, but Thomas merely snapped back, ‘Where is he? The Warden of the Fabric?’

‘Why, up on the scaffold, I believe. He likes to keep an eye on the men up there, especially since your clumsy killing of the mason. Why?’

‘Because your lovely clerk is a
liar
! He helped kill the Chaunter. He deceived everyone.’

Stephen closed his eyes a moment. Then, ‘You want him for that?’

‘Yes,’ Thomas said as he banged out. It was only later he wondered at the choice of words, almost as though Stephen had expected Matthew to be taken for something else. Still, just now he had no time to worry about the Treasurer’s odd manner. He ran to the scaffolding and shouted up to the gang at the top: ‘Where’s Matthew? Have you seen him?’