Baldwin stopped and stared back the way he had come, but he didn’t see the house where Juliana sat with her children and her neighbour about her. In his mind’s eye he saw his own wife shrieking with horror beside his fallen body, his face twisted in death like Daniel’s, his blood draining as quickly from the slit throat, while his daughter Richalda screamed and wailed inconsolably.
It was only recently that he had been near-mortally wounded. He clenched his fist and rotated his shoulder a little to ease the tension at his collarbone where the arrow had pierced him. Richalda and his wife hadn’t been there when he was hit, but he knew how they would have reacted had he died. And were a man to have arrived shortly after his death, demanding answers to questions such as the ones he had put to Juliana, how would Jeanne have felt? More: what would she have said had she heard that the same inquisitor was intending to question her darling Richalda too?
Hopefully Jeanne would castrate the bastard, Baldwin thought.
‘You are right, Sir Peregrine. I shall not question the child. No, we shall come to comprehend this matter without such blunt tactics.’
If only, he would later think, such snap judgements could be withdrawn and their consequences annulled. As it was, he took the decision with the best of intentions, little knowing that it would lead to many more deaths and much pain and suffering.
Chapter Eight
Guibert stood and faced the men in his doorway. ‘What is the meaning of this sacrilege?’
‘You’re holding a funeral in here, Prior! You know you don’t have the right without discussing it with the canons.’
‘Who are you? Is that Peter de la Fosse? What do you mean by this intrusion? We can bury this man in our chapel. He has made over his wealth to us already. There is nothing here for you, Canon.’
‘Don’t try to persuade me of that, Prior. You’ve extorted all his wealth, I have no doubt, and you’re welcome to install his body in your cloister when we have done with it, but the cathedral has the monopoly of all funerals still. That man is ours. The candles, the cloth, everything is cathedral property. You’ll relinquish it now!’
John frowned and stared at the canon with confusion. It sounded as though Peter was himself unconvinced. He was plainly anxious, nervy, as though he feared that the friars might attack him. Well, that was unsurprising. He was guilty of an unholy intrusion.
‘You are performing an act of sacrilege. Leave now.’
‘We’ll leave when we’ve got our man!’
Guibert’s head rose impressively on his shoulders. ‘My fellow, this is a privileged chapel. You are here without permission and in breach of the peace. Be gone!’
‘Prior,’ the man said, and stepped forward with a fixed stare in his fretful eyes. When closer, he snapped his fingers under the Prior’s nose. ‘I give that for your peace. You’re always making it your business to steal our funerals and preach against the cathedral and the Bishop, God bless his soul! Well, it’s all going to change now. We won’t have it any more.’
‘Who are “we”?’ Guibert asked mildly.
‘The canons. We have new blood in the chapter now, and we won’t have any more of this nonsense.’ He motioned and four sheepish-looking lay denizens of the cathedral close approached, two of them looking nervously at the Prior.
‘Well may you look so anxious, my sons. Today you perform the devil’s work. You are here to steal the body of a man who desired only to be left in peace after his death. When you remove him, you will take away an unhappy soul. Here he would have lain happily, content after his long life, with our prayers to speed his journey. But you are to interrupt his passage by removing him. He will haunt you for all eternity, my friends.’ Guibert shook his head sadly.
‘Don’t listen to him. Take the body and we’ll go. Snuff those candles and take them too.’
The four began to blow out the candles, pulling them from their spikes and carefully placing them in sacks. One friar interposed himself, but was roughly pushed from their path. He stumbled and fell against a lattice in front of the altar, which broke, the thin dry lathes crackling dustily as he tumbled through it.
John made as though to go and defend the priory’s property, but Guibert put out a hand when he heard his movement and gripped his shoulder. ‘No, no, John. Remain here with me,’ he said gently. ‘There is no point in argument or fighting. These ruffians are proof against all moderation.’
The body was lifted on its bier, and John watched with his eyes glittering fiercely as it was carried towards them.
‘You can have him back when he’s had his funeral,’ the canon sneered. To John’s eye he was gaining in confidence now that no one stood against him. ‘And don’t try this sort of nonsense again. I’d have thought you would have learned by now that we won’t suffer this infringement of our rights. Our Bishop has his memory still, you know.’
‘Yes,’ Guibert said slyly. ‘And the ear of the King … sometimes. And at other times, he may not. Your Bishop is not long for this world, man. And his excommunication is still in place. It is sad that he has chosen to take all of you with him.’ He turned to face the approaching bier. ‘I am truly sorry, my sons. You will pay with your eternal lives for this dreadful act of violence. Striking a friar in his chapel, breaking our lattice, stealing our candles and ornaments, and taking a body in the process of his funeral … these are terrible crimes. You shall be punished. All will be excommunicate! Now, if you do not fear God, go with your trophies, but remember, no matter what penance you perform for this evil, you can never wash away the sin. You are defiled for ever.’
John could see one of the nervous-looking men casting about towards the others, but another in front of him just sneered and spat. ‘You’re a friar, but our Bishop has more power than you! He can overrule any sentence you lay on us. You’re the ones breaking the laws, not us.’
‘He is right,’ said the canon. ‘Be grateful that we won’t bother to report this. Come, we must return to the cathedral to give this man his funeral. We shall keep the body in St Peter’s for a while. Come and collect him when you’re ready.’
With a last contemptuous glance at the Prior, the man turned on his heel and followed the men carrying the body.
‘Prior, I am so sorry,’ John said as the great door was closed on their arrogant departure.
‘Sorry? For what? It is exactly what I expected, and what I wished,’ Guibert said softly. ‘Brother, now we have the cathedral where we want them.’
Baldwin walked round the house to the window he had seen before. It had been mended haphazardly, with a patch of wood nailed over the splinter, but when he tested it with his hand it moved.
‘Useless! Someone has levered this away.’
‘How could they do that?’ Sir Peregrine demanded. He pushed past Edgar to join Baldwin and studied the flap of wood. ‘But this has not merely been prised away, has it?’
‘No. It has been expertly done. One nail at the top is the same length as it was, and hinges the panel. The wood lies flat, and when pushed is held in place by the remaining shorter nails. But a man who knows of it can easily pull it away and slip it up, giving access to the hole once more like this …’ He put his hand on it and rocked it gently, and with a quiet squeak the wood moved to one side, still held by the one nail. ‘Someone knew of this work and levered the wood away, then filed down three of the nails so that they would grip but still be easy to remove. A rather ingenious means of gaining access to the peg’s hole.’
‘You seem thoughtful.’
‘I am. This work must have taken some time. And it must have been done by a man who had a good knowledge of the way the shutter was patched.’
‘Perhaps the pederast arrived here one evening and learned that his access was blocked, and so he performed this work to make it easier to gain entry?’ Sir Peregrine suggested.