‘What do you mean? What friend? What morning?’ Jolinde cast a baffled look at the cripple.
‘Why, the morning poor Ralph Glover was killed. Your friend pelted back to the gate and ran slap into him, wasn’t looking where he was going was he? All agitated, he seemed.’
‘He ran into Ralph?’
‘Yes. The glover was with Stephen. I saw your friend run into him down near St Petrock’s and then he came haring up here to the Fissand, nearly tripped over me there, and nipped straight inside.’
Jolinde was frowning now. ‘Are you sure? What on earth would he have been doing out of the Cathedral at that time of day?’
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Coppe said, automatically waving his bowl under Jolinde’s nose. ‘He was back in time for the service, though only just, I’d guess. He ran past me here just as the bells stopped.’
Jolinde dropped a farthing into his bowl and walked on slowly and musingly. Only a few feet from Coppe, he suddenly stopped and cried, ‘Shit! He can’t have taken them back! He can’t! What can I do if he took them all back?’
He burst into a shambling run, and Coppe stared after him as he hurried over to the lane that led to his house. As he disappeared from view Janekyn appeared dragging a lighted brazier by a rope which he had lashed to one of the legs. ‘What was that about?’
‘I only wish I knew,’ Coppe said with transparent honesty.
‘Never mind. Here you are, one brazier, and more wine to warm your veins. Merry Christmas! And if it gets colder…’ He dropped a few pennies into Coppe’s hand. ‘You can go and find yourself a warm tavern where you can sit before a fire.’
Sutton’s Inn was blessedly quiet. In the hearth a fire was burning strongly, with three faggots throwing out a delicious scent of applewood and oak as they flamed and sputtered. Smoke rose up to the rafters high overhead – a fine, thin smoke that provided the room with a pleasant, incense-like odour. Occasionally there was a minor explosion as a log split in the heat, but then the wood settled again and was quiet.
Simon and Baldwin had arranged to meet the Coroner to discuss progress.
‘Do you really think that poor fellow in the gaol could have murdered his master?’ Baldwin began.
‘No. That was one reason for taking you there, to meet him in the flesh. The Bailiff, William, always was too keen to pick the easiest victim. Personally I think I have as much of a duty not to imprison the innocent as I have to capture the guilty.’
‘I should like you to tell us about some of the other people in the city. For example, this girl Mary with whom Elias fancies himself in love. What do you know of her?’
The host appeared and the three men ordered two quarts of spiced wine to be set by the fire to warm. When the man had brought a large pot of strong Bordeaux flavoured with cinnamon and nutmeg he left them and Roger leaned forward thoughtfully.
‘She’s a bright little thing, very comely. Daughter of a baker called Rob near the Shambles, and often works with him, since her brother Martin died. But she’s flighty, that one. I doubt whether she was ever that serious about Elias.’
‘Is she vain? Greedy? Deceitful?’
‘Ho, Sir Baldwin,’ Roger smiled, leaning back. ‘She’s a woman, but she’s no worse than many, I swear. No, I don’t think she’s overly greedy or vain. No more than any woman.’
Baldwin fleetingly reflected that it was fortunate that his wife was not present to hear the Coroner’s views, but then he was considering the issue again. ‘This is too serious for us to worry about upsetting her or her friends. I only wonder whether she herself may have been persuaded to keep Elias with her.’
‘What, you think someone tried to keep him back?’ Roger exclaimed, watching Simon pour their wine.
Simon had heated his dagger’s blade in the fire. Now he used it to stir his wine. It sizzled as it touched the liquor and he watched the steam rising. ‘It’s an interesting thought. The one day that Elias happens to be really late is the same day that a random thief happens to find his way clear. Too much of a coincidence. It’s more rational to assume that the boy was delayed intentionally – which means that Mary was involved in it somehow. She was bribed or blackmailed into chatting to Elias and keeping him back for longer than usual, so that the assassin had plenty of time.’
‘No. I can’t swallow that. Mary is many things, I don’t doubt, but this is implicating her in two deaths – that of poor Ralph Glover, and the possible execution of Elias, an innocent man.’
‘Last night she danced for Vincent le Berwe,’ Simon said. ‘And in the evening I saw her rutting enthusiastically with one of the musicians. She didn’t seem very concerned about Elias then.’
The Coroner looked appalled. His brows came down and he glowered into his pot of wine. ‘The young bitch!’
Baldwin sighed. ‘Let us consider the two clerks who visited the glover early in December. They were together for that delivery, as they were in their rooms, and yet one is now dead.’
‘Yes?’
‘Does it not seem suspicious to you? One specific fact leaps out at me.’
Roger shook his head in bafflement.
Baldwin continued patiently, ‘Coroner, if someone knew that the money was there, it is reasonable to assume he might have known where it came from: he knew it was Cathedral money. If somebody heard about it, did he hear about it before it was delivered, or did he only hear about it after it had been delivered?’
‘Do you believe in dissecting every enquiry in the same manner?’ Coroner Roger asked dryly.
Simon shrugged. ‘Two clerks could be robbed easily. A couple of taps with a stick and they would be unconscious. Then the thief could have helped himself to the money. Why wait until they had delivered the stuff?’
‘He probably thought it would be easier to break into a place where there was only one man, rather than knocking over two youngsters. So would I,’ Roger added with emphasis, knocking back his wine and smacking his lips appreciatively.
‘Perhaps. But most felons would prefer to take their chances in the open. Except,’ Simon added musingly, ‘we don’t know how he could have known what the two carried.’
‘There you are. He saw two clerical types walking about the city. So? Not much new in that. Then Ralph shot his mouth off in a tavern and people got to hear about his fortune in winning so lucrative a contract. A short while after someone decides to take a little of it for himself. He breaks in and steals it all, killing poor Ralph at the same time. Problem solved.’
‘Nearly. But not quite. Did Ralph often frequent taverns?’
‘Not very often, but so what? A man can decide to visit one if he wants.’
‘True,’ Baldwin breathed. ‘Very well. What of others? For example, how much do you know about Nicholas Karvinel and his wife?’
‘Karvinel? He’s a lousy businessman from what I’ve heard. Can’t make money to save his life. And he has managed to amass huge debts. You heard about the attack on him? Set upon by a gang of thieves in broad daylight, for God’s sake? It’s getting so you can hardly leave your front door nowadays. Crime is increasing all the time.’
‘What exactly happened?’ Simon asked.
‘I was in the Guildhall when a messenger arrived saying that there’d been a robbery. Apparently that fool Karvinel had been down to the port to check on a cargo. He had a load of wine and iron arriving, and he went there with the Cathedral’s steward to check it all…’
‘Why with the Cathedral’s steward?’ Simon interjected.