‘I dare say. Some of the men here would hate to think of gambling, but others would put money on how long it would take a snail to cross a path,’ Thomas said with a chuckle.
Simon nodded. ‘We were wondering which of your canons would be the most ardent gambler?’
Thomas shrugged. ‘I couldn’t say.’
Baldwin said quietly, ‘Come, Master Thomas. We know that one canon has been frequenting the gaming dens down by the river. You may have reasons for not wishing to denounce a brother from the cathedral, but we have to know. It may have a bearing on this nonsense between the cathedral and the friary, and, more, may have some relevance to a murder.’
‘You mean Daniel?’ Thomas said with a quiet gasp.
Baldwin nodded. He had been thinking of the murder of Mick, the man involved in prostitution and the gambling dens, the man who had been working for Jordan, but if his giving Thomas the impression that he had meant Daniel led to a quicker answer, he would leave Thomas in the dark.
Thomas was silent a short while. He looked uncertain, his glance casting about him, and then asked if he could consult with the Dean before saying any more. Baldwin nodded, and Thomas walked off contemplatively.
It was some little while later that he reappeared. He nodded. ‘The Dean has sent someone to ask him to come. He must explain himself to you. The confessional prevents my speaking. Would you join the Dean in his hall?’
Baldwin and Simon climbed the small staircase to the Dean’s chamber. He rose to greet them as soon as they entered.
‘Sir Baldwin, Bailiff Puttock, ah, thank you for coming up here. I don’t feel it’s likely that the, um, man will find it hard to explain himself, but just in case, perhaps you could, um, let me remain here?’
Both nodded after exchanging a glance. Simon was pleased to see that his friend was apparently as baffled as he was. The Dean sniffed, cleared his throat, and seated himself again in his chair, tapping his fingers on the arms irritably, and finally bellowing for a jug of wine and three goblets, before putting his chin on his hand and staring uncommunicatively at the floor.
It was some little while before the man they were waiting for turned up.
Peter de la Fosse was tall and powerful-looking, compared with the frail figure of the Dean, but he had none of the strength of purpose of the older man. ‘You asked me to come here, Dean?’
‘These men wish to ask you some — ah — questions. I suggest you answer them honestly. Honestly, mind. On your oath!’ the Dean stated harshly.
Simon glanced at him in surprise. The Dean was always such a calm, quiet man, it seemed odd to hear him in what was clearly a foul temper.
‘I will be honest, I swear,’ Peter said, his hand on his rosary.
‘Good,’ Simon said. ‘We wanted to speak to any canons or others who could have been involved in gambling recently.’
Peter shot a look to the Dean, who scowled at him. ‘Answer!’
‘Yes, I have taken the odd wager. Not very recently.’
‘How much?’ Baldwin asked.
‘A few pounds.’
‘How much?’ This time it was the Dean, who turned in his seat to stare uncompromisingly.
‘Nineteen.’
‘Pounds?’ Simon demanded. ‘That’s a fortune!’
‘It wasn’t my fault, Dean. I didn’t mean to … but that nasty little man Mick kept persuading me to go back and see if my luck would change. It had to change! He kept telling me that no one was so unlucky for long, so I had to start winning again, as I always had in the beginning, but …’
‘It never happened,’ Simon breathed. ‘It never does. The game was fixed. It always is. Men don’t own gambling halls for fun. It’s always because they want to make money. And they do it by taking yours.’
‘I never thought I could come to owe so much,’ Peter said brokenly. ‘I don’t know how it grew to such a sum, but suddenly there it was.’
‘And you couldn’t repay it?’ Baldwin asked, thinking of Gervase’s tale.
‘Nineteen pounds? No, not quickly. And then this other man asked me if I could help him, and if I did, he would settle my debts for me.’
‘A man called Jordan le Bolle?’ Baldwin guessed.
Peter’s hesitation said it all. Alarmed, he wondered whether this was all a game to make him accuse Jordan. Jordan would never forgive a man who betrayed him. Everyone knew that. Then he glanced at the Dean’s face and realized that there could be no collusion between these men and Jordan le Bolle. ‘Yes. How do you know him?’
‘Just tell us what happened,’ Simon sighed.
‘He said that there was a poor knight who was being held in the priory of the Shod Friars, and the man ought to be brought back to be given a Christian burial in the cathedral. I knew what he meant, obviously. A funeral without permission in the friary would be illegal, so invalid. It was obviously better for the man’s soul that he should be brought back to be buried here, in the cathedral. No one could argue against that.’
‘Except Prior Guibert,’ the Dean said heavily.
‘What else did he want?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Nothing,’ Peter said.
Baldwin smiled slowly. There was a shiftiness about the man’s demeanour that reminded him of a misbehaving child. ‘Think again, Canon. And this time, remember your oath.’
Peter’s hand went back to his rosary and fingered the cross. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. The other three in the room were silent. His internal deliberations were tormenting him, and his glance went from one to the other of his interrogators as he twisted his fingers and tried to seek a means of escape.
‘Dean, forgive me!’ he cried, and threw himself on the floor at the Dean’s feet. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, and if I could take back my actions, I would, but it was impossible! I confess! I would find out when a ship was arriving at the quay, and then tell Jordan le Bolle so that he could meet the sailors and lead them to debauch themselves in his brothel and gaming rooms, while Jordan had his men steal the cargo and replace it with rubbish. Later he would sell the cargo to the cathedral again.’
‘What was your price?’ the Dean asked harshly. ‘What did he pay you for your robbery of God’s palace and setting the cathedral chapter against the friars, to the shame and sadness of God Himself? What did you demand in return?’
‘He allowed me to visit his house at the southern gate.’
Baldwin nodded. ‘To visit Jordan’s women at his brothel?’
‘Yes. And my debts were held. He did not ask for payments. The debt was frozen.’
‘So that he could take you whenever he wanted and threaten to demand the money back. How long,’ Baldwin asked, ‘has all this been going on?’
‘Two years.’
‘Two years … and no one in the chapter or the city guessed?’ Baldwin said, appalled.
‘Only Daniel guessed. He accosted me about it once when he saw me leaving the gambling halls. He thought he knew what was going on in there. But he didn’t! He couldn’t realize how Jordan entwined a man about his fingers. He is the devil himself!’
Dean Alfred nodded to Baldwin. ‘Is there any more, do you think?’
‘I doubt it. I think he has told us enough, anyway.’
‘I think so too. Canon, return to your house and stay there while I decide what to do.’ He watched the canon leave, head hanging like a whipped cur’s. ‘There was a time when that fellow would have made an excellent Treasurer, or even Dean. Now he is ruined.’
‘Do not be too harsh on him,’ Baldwin said. ‘He couldn’t have realized what he was doing.’
‘But he sold his cathedral in order to avoid shame. That was unforgivable.’
‘What interests me is why the priory should have chosen this time to keep a body,’ Simon said slowly. ‘It is surely too much of a coincidence to think that the allegation of robbery happened just as Sir William died.’
‘It was no coincidence,’ Baldwin reminded him. ‘The man Gervase was told by this same Jordan to claim he had been robbed.’