His time here must be drawing to an end soon. He couldn’t remain with any likelihood of preferment. The Canons would grumble, asking that someone else be brought in to take the spare place, someone who would be of more direct and immediate use to the Cathedral. Perhaps he’d be lucky, get offered a post as an acolyte. He could stay in the Cathedral provided he agreed to continue looking after the candles, delivering loaves to the older members of the choir, and a few other duties.
It almost made him throw down his candles in rage and disgust. Why should he be cast off, when these little bastards were allowed to stay? They had other places they could go to, they had homes; in Luke’s case, a wealthy home. Everyone knew how well off his people were. He came from the Soth family. It was unfair!
Luke was still walking slowly ahead of him. As Adam watched, Luke pulled out a lump of bread. He broke off a piece just as Adam saw an object that would allow him to take out his revenge in a mean and cruel manner on one of his most hated rivals.
The first Luke knew was when he heard the slap of sandalled feet behind him.
After seeing Henry in the hall, Luke had been musing over the celebrations for Holy Innocents’ Day and wondering whether he could somehow escape the humiliation of waiting upon the new boy-Bishop. Sadly he came to the conclusion that there was no escape: any attempt would show Henry that he had won, that he had succeeded in destroying Luke’s equilibrium.
Luke’s appetite had wakened. It felt like days since the feast in Stephen’s house; Luke sometimes thought that the whole of his life was spent in hunger. The amounts of food given to him and the other choirboys were never enough.
He was about to slip the first piece of bread into his mouth when he heard the feet. There was a hollow, empty-sounding rattle as Adam dropped his candle-box, and Luke was suddenly convinced that a ghost was coming to grab him, maybe to pull him down under the ground with him. Squeaking in terror, he felt strong arms grip him, felt himself swung up and over, upside-down, and his face was heading towards the ground.
Henry frowned at all the other desks, but before he could make a search, he heard the muffled cry from outside. Forgetting his pot of orpiment, he rose and went to the door. There, in the dim light that streamed from behind him in the doorway, he saw a figure lying on the ground. He felt the flesh of his scalp creep as he wondered whether it was a dead man, but then he realised that the body was lifting itself up.
He heard the sobs and frowned. It was weak to cry; but he would help if he could. Only when he arrived at Luke’s side did he recognise who it was, and the hand he had put out in sympathy stayed in mid-air as he realised that his sympathy might not be agreeable to this victim.
‘What in God’s name is going on?’ roared Gervase. He had been in his hall when he heard the first hiccupping cry, and now he peered from the door to see, as he thought, Henry leaning over Luke, having pushed him or thumped him.
Henry’s face turned to him, almost white in the cold moonlight, and Gervase instantly marked him down as guilty. He stormed out and went to Luke’s side, picking him up and then wincing. ‘Are you all right?’
The boy had been pushed headfirst into a gutter, which was filled with horse manure and dung from the animals which had passed through there today. Luke’s face was a grimace of revulsion and hatred as he tried to keep the tears at bay. ‘Someone picked me up and threw me into that,’ he declared with a sob.
‘Was it Henry?’
‘I haven’t done anything, I was in the hall!’ Henry stated emphatically.
Gervase’s anger burst. ‘You and Luke have always had this silly dispute, haven’t you? And now you’ve made him suffer like this, you little heathen. Your behaviour is a disgrace to the Cathedral and to the robes you wear, you devil. My God, I am tempted to rip the robe from you and throw you from the precinct at once!’
‘I didn’t do anything! I came out to help him when I heard him cry out!’
‘I saw you there, pushing at him, you devil! Get back inside and go to your room. I’ll not have you trying any more tricks on this poor child. Go on! Go!’
Henry turned and shuffled away, snivelling. Luke was still weeping as he was wiped and cleaned as best he could be by the Succentor before being led away to have his face washed.
When they had all gone, Adam slipped out from his hiding-place, collected his empty candle box, and then, after a moment’s thought, picked up the loaf, which had fallen on the grass and had missed following Luke into the sewer. With a skip to his steps, Adam made his way back to his own little chamber in the Close, chortling as he remembered Luke’s panicked squeak. He wouldn’t forget that for many a long month.
Chapter Twenty
On the day after Christmas, Simon woke in the early hours to find Baldwin in the hall with him. The knight was squatting by the side of the fire, ruminatively prodding at the coals with a stick, sipping every now and again from a pot of ale at his side.
‘Baldwin! Are you all right?’
‘Oh, Simon, I am sorry to have woken you. I thought I was being quiet. Ah well, I shall leave you. My apologies.’ He stood and collected up his pot.
‘No, sit down again. What’s the matter?’
Nothing loath, the knight dropped onto a stool beside the fire again. ‘I cannot help but feel that something bad is going on here, Simon, and the feeling is growing stronger. Someone is going to suffer unnecessarily and unfairly, I think, unless we do something to help him.’
‘Obviously you mean the poor devil in gaol.’
‘Yes,’ Baldwin sighed. ‘That poor apprentice. I can see no reason why he should be confined, and if we do nothing he may well be executed for something he didn’t do. The only motive we have been given is that the lad might have robbed his master – and yet there is no money or jewels to prove that he did. They say he could have run away and hidden them – but no one can show where he might have put them. No, it is more likely that he had nothing to do with the murder or the theft. They came as a complete surprise to him.’
‘Then who did have a reason to kill the glover?’
‘That is the all-important question,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘Jolinde had bought the arsenic, but what would be his motive? Although I am intrigued by Jolinde and Peter delivering the money and gemstones to Ralph. It is significant, too, that Peter also contributed to the death of the felon.’
‘You think one of the outlaws might have decided to kill him?’
‘It is possible. Unlikely but possible.’
‘And the Dean asked us to look into the Secondary’s death as well,’ Simon pointed out, yawning.
‘Yes. That in itself is odd. Why should he ask us to enquire into that when he had the Coroner there to investigate?’ He scowled at the fire, trying to make sense of it all.
Simon leaned across to take Baldwin’s pot from him. Sipping from it he said, ‘There is one obvious conclusion: the Dean and Chapter don’t trust the Coroner.’
‘Possibly – and yet I find it hard to believe. Coroner Roger is transparently innocent, especially now he has suggested other courses for us to look into. He didn’t need to introduce us to the City Bailiff.’
‘Fine, so if we assume he is straight, perhaps there was another motive behind the Dean’s suggestion that we should help. Maybe he feared that the Coroner himself could get into deep water.’
‘Or was it something to do with the suspects?’ Baldwin mused.
Simon took another gulp and considered. ‘It’s feasible. What if he was concerned like you that the wrong man could be accused? You are worried about the apprentice, and maybe he’s worried about someone else?’