The Boy-Bishop's Glovemaker (36 page)

‘So what did you think he would do with the money?’ Baldwin said.

‘Hide it.’ Jolinde’s mouth twisted slightly as he waved a hand, encompassing the ruined walls and holed floor. ‘I thought it must be here somewhere.’

‘It’s not,’ Baldwin said quietly. ‘He took it back, but not immediately. By an evil chance, he took it back later. On the day Ralph was killed. He rewarded Ralph’s murderer.’

‘We have heard,’ Simon said, ‘that you saw Karvinel in the tavern too. Peter turned from him – snubbed him. Do you remember that?’

‘Yes,’ Jolinde said, a faraway look on his face as he recalled the evening. ‘It was the twenty-second, I think. The afternoon of the day the felon was hanged.’

Coroner Roger nodded. ‘I remember. We had been going to hang the bastard as soon as the court had concluded his guilt but we decided to wait. We had no scaffold,’ he added apologetically, as if ashamed that they had taken so long. ‘Peter was there when Hamond swung; he was all right with Karvinel then.’

‘He and Karvinel were talking that morning?’ Simon asked with frank surprise. ‘What happened to change their attitude by the same evening?’

‘You’d have to ask Karvinel,’ said Jolinde. ‘All I know is, he was depressed. And I think he was fearful already that he was possessed. He probably thought the theft proved it,’ he blurted, close to tears.

‘What we do need to ask you is this, though,’ Baldwin said. ‘Bearing in mind you don’t need the money, because as you point out your father is very wealthy, why did you need to rob a man like Ralph?’

‘I wanted the money!’ Jolinde asserted, but Simon saw that he did not meet any of his three interrogators’ eyes as he spoke.

‘That’s rubbish,’ Simon said. ‘You knew you could have whatever you needed. You had enough to be able to feed not only yourself but your friend as well.’

‘But I couldn’t know how long that would last.’

It was Baldwin who now coldly dissected his motives. ‘But you did, didn’t you, Jolinde? I think you knew only too well. You had enough money. There was no need for you to rob Ralph. In fact, I think you were yourself disgusted by what you did, which is why you gave away the tainted money. It was thirty pieces of silver that Judas took, wasn’t it? How much were you paid to ruin Ralph?’

Jolinde was silent, but his eyes closed and tears sprang from beneath his lids as Coroner Roger frowned with incomprehension. ‘What do you mean, Sir Baldwin?’

‘Just this: Jolinde didn’t want the money – he gave it away as soon as he could! No, but he was so desperate to take it that he persuaded his own friend to help him. Why? First, there’s the receipt. It showed Ralph had accepted the Cathedral’s money and gems. In a few days, Ralph would have to present the gloves to the Cathedral so that they could be given to Simon and me, among other people, and as soon as that happened, the Dean or Treasurer would be sure to notice the missing jewels and they would accuse Ralph of stealing them. And how could he defend himself?’

‘You whoreson bastard!’ the Coroner breathed. ‘You’d rob a man and then get him accused of the theft himself?’

‘Ah – no, Coroner, not quite,’ Baldwin murmured. ‘I think this lad had little choice in the matter. Isn’t that correct, Jolinde? No comments? Well, let me say what I guess and you can correct me as you wish.

‘You see, I think this fellow was forced into an impossible position. He had no wish to lie or see Ralph accused. But someone did. Someone who hates competitors in the city. Someone who would be glad to see his last significant competitor for political power in the place removed.’

‘Christ’s blood! You mean Vincent.’

‘Of course. Le Berwe told his son that he would be given enough money to seek a place at University or to win over a patron if he carried out this single task . . .’

‘No, sir. My father said he would take away all my money if I didn’t.’

‘I see.’ Baldwin glanced at Jolinde’s miserable expression. ‘So your whole future depended upon whether or not you were prepared to rob a man and leave him to suffer punishment for your crime.’

‘A man who incites crime is more guilty than the weak weapon of his malice,’ Coroner Roger grated.

‘My father has suffered bad luck,’ Jolinde protested. ‘I don’t think he would have hit upon this idea had he not been terribly scared for himself.’

‘What should he fear from Ralph?’ Coroner Roger scoffed, but then his expression hardened. ‘Or was there something else he feared?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, as I said, the booty isn’t here,’ Baldwin said. ‘Your friend decided he couldn’t live with the guilt of his crime and took it back. As Elias will testify, Peter returned later that morning and gave him the missing gold and jewels. Ironic.’

Simon nodded understandingly. ‘Yes. Poor Peter returned the stolen jewels and money just in time for the murderer to steal it all.’ He frowned. ‘Yet Coppe the cripple said he left the Cathedral later. Did he return?’

‘He may well have done. To apologise in person, and explain what had happened,’ Baldwin said. ‘Jolinde, you should reflect upon this: you agreed to obey your father’s commands and you would have caused the ruin of an innocent man as well as forcing a friend to be your accomplice against his will. Your father may have compelled you to obey him, but you repeated his crime in forcing Peter to take part. If Ralph had lived, he would have been wrongly accused of theft. Instead, the ruin has fallen upon your shoulders . . . and it will bring shame upon your father too.’

Jeanne poured a fresh pot of wine for Hawisia as the woman’s tears began to well once more.

‘Drink this, my dear. It will help.’

‘I . . . thank you, Lady Jeanne. I needed something.’

‘There, is that better?’

Hawisia gave her a brittle smile, her eyes strangely pale now that her face had reddened. ‘Yes, I feel much better, thank you.’

‘You really should not concern yourself with such terrible fears,’ Jeanne said calmingly. ‘I am sure your husband’s son is a perfectly good man.’

‘Jolinde was always a jealous fellow,’ Hawisia said, dabbing at her eyes with a sleeve.

‘Do you mean he was jealous of you?’ Jeanne asked.

‘Oh, Lady Jeanne! I love my husband, I love him dearly,’ Hawisia burst out. ‘But I live in terror of his boy.’

‘But
why
?’

‘My husband’s first wife died, you see. It was just as she was due to give birth to her first baby. It was a girl child, but how would Jolinde have guessed that?’

‘I don’t understand you.’

‘Jolinde wants no other children. I think that’s why he killed Vincent’s first wife.’

‘What?’ Jeanne cried.

‘As soon as she became pregnant, Jolinde refused to speak to her. He was always a greedy soul, but I think the thought of a legitimate son so revolted him that he decided to kill it and his father’s wife. He poisoned them.’

‘You know that for certain?’

‘No,’ Hawisia said wretchedly. ‘I don’t know anything for certain. All I know is what I have heard in the city: that the girl grew ill suddenly just before giving birth. I think that was why Jolinde killed her. And now I am terrified that he will do the same to me and
my
child!’

‘The
shit
!’ Coroner Roger swore as they left the Secondary slumped near his cold hearth. ‘Miserable, canting
shite
! I knew Ralph – and to think of that decent man being set up by that pair of turds makes me want to throw up. How dare they!’

‘You can do nothing about the boy,’ Simon reminded him. ‘Benefit of Clergy.’

‘True, but I can speak to his father, and arrest the sod if I can find any evidence – and I bloody will! Are you coming along?’

Baldwin set his head to one side and considered, ‘I should like to join you, but I have another investigation which has been given to me. Before you go, however, we should tell you something we learned this morning.’ Baldwin told the Coroner all that they had heard from Coppe, finishing with the discovery that the basan and cordwain were missing.

‘Thank you for that. Not that I see how it can help us,’ the Coroner grunted.

‘It may be easier than you imagine. Basan and cordwain could be used for glovemaking, bagmaking, or any number of other products – but Vincent trades in such things. He sold them to Ralph in the first place. Ask whether he has heard of any for sale. Ask Karvinel too. Someone would be likely to offer him that sort of stuff. And now I suppose I should seek Adam’s poisoner. I cannot believe his wild allegation, but he gave us a suspect: the Chorister Luke.’

Luke sat numbly in the chamber before his desk and tried to make sense of Adam’s sudden collapse. Gervase had left him in the care of the Clerk of the Lady Chapel while he ran to see how he could help Adam, but now he had returned and was standing behind the Chorister. It was a relief for both to see Baldwin and Simon.

They entered without knocking and Simon nodded his head reassuringly to Gervase, trying to convey a little of his conviction that the child was innocent. Baldwin walked straight to Luke, taking up a stool en route and seating himself before the boy.

Luke found himself gazing into the darkly intense eyes of the knight from Furnshill. It was disconcerting. The man appeared to be looking through Luke’s own eyes and into his soul. ‘Sir?’

‘Luke, Adam has made a dreadful allegation against you,’ Baldwin said slowly and distinctly. ‘Do you know what it is?’

‘He said I had poisoned him. Gervase told me.’

‘That is quite right. Now you are too young to be accused in a court, and even if you were, you would be safe because you are within the Cathedral, so you fall under Canon Law. I want you to speak the truth to me. Have you ever tried to poison someone in the precinct?’

‘No, sir,’ Luke responded immediately. ‘I wouldn’t know how to.’

‘Luke, this was on the floor in the room,’ Gervase said and passed Baldwin the little flask of orpiment.

‘Arsenic?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Luke, do you recognise this bottle?’

‘Yes. It’s like the ones we use here,’ he said, looking up at Gervase for confirmation. ‘I had been using some for a picture. Look!’ Luke said and showed Baldwin his work. The golden-yellow tints gleamed even in the meagre light of the hall. ‘But I didn’t have it with me at the meal.’

‘So you didn’t put any of this upon Adam’s food?’

‘No,’ said Luke, adding with simple honesty, ‘although I would have if I had thought of it. He’s always bullying me.’

Behind him, Gervase rolled his eyes heavenwards. The little devils always had to make some sort of lunatic comment. He saw the Bailiff cover his mouth with a hand, trying to smother the chuckle.

‘Anyway, sir,’ Luke said, ‘wouldn’t someone see if their food was covered in yellow stuff?’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I rather think they would, Luke.’

Gervase heard a certain conviction in his voice that made him peer doubtfully, but before he could say anything there was a light knock at the door. He sighed and went to open it.

In the doorway stood young Henry. ‘What is it?’ Gervase demanded. ‘We’re busy.’

‘Sir, it’s about Adam.’

Sir Thomas waited in John Renebaud’s tavern until Hob returned. The place suited Sir Thomas’s mood. Dark, crowded and evil-smelling, it fed his bitter and vengeful spirit.

He knew that Hob and Jen had a touching faith in him. On Hob’s part it was solely due to his simpleness, but Jen was a more complicated soul. She professed her love for him – but then she would. He was her protector. It was little more than the affection due to a lord and master from one of his serfs; it was the duty of a woman to her mate. No more. Probably when he, Sir Thomas, was dead, she would easily slip into another man’s bed.

Early death held no fears for Sir Thomas. He was well into his middle age already at thirty-four; he had lived longer than many of the folks with whom he had grown up. The men had died of disease or fighting; the women from childbirth or starvation since when there were famines the men were favoured with food in order that they might produce more. Women and children must starve.

Sir Thomas had lost everything. The small wars about his manorial demesne had wasted his whole fortune. There was nothing left but a few people, none of whom stayed with him anticipating riches, but from a sense of loyalty and their duty. Hamond, who had been of the same age as Sir Thomas, had been his most devoted friend and servant. Hamond, his longest-serving companion, had grown up with him, and yet he was dead now. Chivalry demanded payment. There was a responsibility lying upon Sir Thomas to honour the debt; Hamond had served him faithfully through his life, and now Sir Thomas must repay that death with blood. The blood of the man who had willed his execution.

He knocked back the last of his mazer of wine and wiped at his lips with the back of his hand. The merchants of any city were a corrupt set of pirates, out to steal whatever they could from anyone with less money and fewer opportunities to protect themselves, but the men here had surprised Sir Thomas with their avarice and brutality. It didn’t matter to him particularly if another man should die in order that he should survive the richer, but he was amazed that merchants should decide whether a man should live or die purely upon the basis of a potential benefit to them. It was unpleasant, an inversion of legitimate behaviour. It was one thing to travel abroad and fight Frenchmen or Moors, taking their wealth, but doing the same with Englishmen seemed wrong.

As he sat mulling over the black thoughts that chased themselves around his head, he noticed a figure standing near the fire. It was him again: Vincent le Berwe. The two men caught each other’s eye and Sir Thomas nodded slightly. His paymaster acknowledged him with a slow smile, nervous that someone else might witness it.

Before Sir Thomas could go over and speak to his client, he saw a cowering shadow slip through the doorway. ‘Hob! Over here, lad!’ he growled.

‘Master, I have seen him,’ Hob said expectantly. His face was like that of a dog, Sir Thomas thought, a dog whipped daily but still eager to be welcomed.

‘Where?’

‘At the Cathedral. He was going there alone, Master.’