Ralph was not a member of that exclusive club. He hadn’t been born here, so had few rights other than those he could claim as the due of a man who had provided services to the men who controlled the city. That meant little power, in reality, although surely he was safer than someone with no influence at all.
Who had less than him, though? It was a sobering thought. He slowed in his hasty march.
It was an unpleasant reflection, but he had little in the way of real power. He was a stranger, a ‘foreigner’ as they liked to say about here. A man like him, who wasn’t born in Devon let alone Exeter, had infinitely fewer rights than a man like Jordan. Jordan’s word would always be taken rather than his.
Jordan’s word … suddenly he saw things clearly. ‘My whores’ he’d said, hadn’t he? He’d told Ralph to look after ‘my whores’ but to leave big men alone …
There were plenty of men here in the street, and Ralph gazed about him with a sudden sense of his own vulnerability. He could as well have been a woman in this place, he reflected, and had a sudden thought. Turning right, he went over to the Southgate Road, and was soon outside Betsy’s brothel.
A girl opened the door, her face pale and red-eyed this early in the morning, and she let out a little cry as Ralph pushed by her. ‘Where’s Betsy?’
She pointed, and he marched through the screens and out to the lean-to rooms at the back. The sound of giggling came to him from one of the rooms, and he threw open the door to find Betsy and a man in a large wooden barrel steaming with warm water.
‘Ralph? What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Betsy, I want to talk to you.’
‘You can’t, Ralph. I’m busy.’
‘Not too busy to help me now. I need to talk to you about Anne.’
The man in the bath with her was gazing from one to the other. ‘Who’s he, Bets? What’s he after?’
‘I am helping the King’s Keeper and Coroner investigate a murder,’ Ralph said.
‘Go and investigate somewhere else, then,’ the man sneered. ‘We’re busy.’
‘It’s Jordan, isn’t it, Betsy? It’s him owns this place,’ Ralph said.
Simon was feeling more than a little confused as they strode back along the lanes towards their hostelry. It had transpired that he too was putting up at Talbot’s Inn. He said nothing as Baldwin went up to his room.
‘Jeanne?’
She was on their bed, and sat up in a hurry. ‘Are you finished?’
‘I wish I was,’ Baldwin grunted. He went to her side, sitting and twisting his fingers into her own. ‘Jeanne, this will probably take another day or two.’
‘I thought we were going home to Richalda,’ Jeanne said. ‘I want my little girl.’
‘So do I. But the Dean has asked me …’
‘The Dean is more important than me and Richalda?’
Baldwin looked over to the window where Edgar stood gazing out. ‘Edgar, Simon’s in the hall.’ He waited until Edgar had left. ‘Jeanne, I want to go home too. My shoulder is giving me gip, the city is too loud and raucous, and all I want is you happy again and the freedom of my own manor.’
‘But?’
‘I have responsibilities. I am the Keeper, and if the Dean asks me to help, I think I have to. He’s anxious because this could develop into a fight between the chapter and the friars, and wants to avoid it if possible.’
‘And you?’
‘I want to go home with you. You are the only woman I love, the only woman I have ever loved; but just now there is a murderer wandering the streets of the city. I think that this man Jordan is involved, and if I can capture him, I should do so.’
‘So my feelings don’t matter?’
‘Of course they do. But so does duty. I am a Keeper. I have to investigate murders and catch the killer if at all possible.’
She nodded. ‘But I want my husband, not a King’s Officer. I want you to myself.’
‘And you shall have me. Soon. I shall try to find out what has happened here, and do so as quickly as possible. Then we shall leave Exeter.’
Sir Peregrine avoided the place for as long as his will allowed him, but then, in the late afternoon, he found himself unable to keep away.
‘Is Mistress Juliana here?’ he asked at the door.
Gwen eyed him speculatively. ‘No, she’s back in her own house now. Why, Coroner, you thinking of capturing her?’
Her tone of voice made him flush, especially when she started cackling like an old fishwife.
Crossing the road, he went to Daniel’s house and knocked loudly. There were some steps, and soon Agnes stood in front of him.
‘Hello, Coroner. Who do you want here?’
‘Is your sister here, maid?’
Agnes gave a sharp nod and stood back to let him pass.
Sir Peregrine followed her pointing finger into the main hall. A fire was lit against the chill of the evening, and its welcoming glow threw a warmth over the room. There were two children in there, the boy playing among the reeds, chuckling and snorting to himself, while the girl, who was a little older, stood anxiously and went to her mother’s side. Her eyes were wide with terror, and it struck Sir Peregrine that she held on to her mother so tightly, she might have thought he was there to take Juliana away. She had lost her father, and her terror was all too plain.
‘Mistress Juliana, I came to see how you were. I hope I find you well?’ he began clumsily. Behind him he could hear a low snigger, and he knew Agnes had walked in after him to listen to his attempt at courtesy.
Juliana sat still in a large carved chair of elm. She put a hand to her daughter’s, and slowly forced the child to relinquish her grip. ‘It’s all right, Cecily, this kind knight is here to help us, aren’t you, Sir Peregrine?’
‘With all my heart.’
‘Agnes, would you fetch us some wine?’
‘Please, do not bother for me,’ Sir Peregrine said. He felt stilted and nervous, like a young man at his first wooing. Juliana was so beautiful. It was not pure lust, but rather a delight in her physicality. There was something about her, as though there was an aura that gathered all light to her and focused it on her features. Fine, wonderful, magnificent … they must belong to a woman who was perfect in spirit too. Sir Peregrine was certain of it.
Juliana looked away. Agnes had not moved, and he could see that Juliana was uncertain what to do or say.
Agnes gave an angry exhalation, and flounced from the room. ‘If I’m not wanted, just say so. I’ll be off home,’ she called over her shoulder and slammed the door.
Walking to the cathedral close, Simon could see how distracted Baldwin was. It was unlike him, and Simon had a shrewd guess that it was more than a little because of Jeanne. To bring Baldwin’s mind to the present, he said, ‘So this Jordan is a local fellow, then?’
Baldwin glanced at him, then showed his teeth in a smile. ‘Yes. Jordan le Bolle is an important man in the city, and now we know he has something to do with Gervase’s gambling den. He seems to have employed the pander, Mick, to entice in gullible fools like Gervase, and Mick was responsible for several whores, among them Anne. Anne and Mick are dead. Betsy, the woman who helps run the whorehouse, knows who is in charge of the place, but won’t say. I doubt she dares. Any man who runs a gambling and whoring place like that is unlikely to be gentle and considerate.’
‘And with all his other ventures, he’s also trying to harm the cathedral?’ Simon said. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know. But there is a man who may be able to help us,’ Baldwin said. He led the way to the deanery, and told the servants what he needed. A man nodded, and hurried off. Soon he returned with Thomas, who looked up at them enquiringly. ‘Yes?’
‘When we spoke earlier, it struck me that you were very tolerant of gamblers and gambling,’ Baldwin said. ‘I suddenly thought, there must be several canons here who must enjoy a game themselves.’