‘So you betrayed your own accomplices?’ Simon said.
William sneered, ‘You ask me whether I betrayed anyone? I’ve never done that! I have been loyal to my word, and when I’ve been honoured for my service and have given my allegiance, that has remained to bind me. No man could say I’ve ever broken faith with another. What right do you have to accuse me of treachery?’
That barb struck home, he saw. The knight looked as though he had swallowed bile, and he looked away. The scruffy man at his side seemed less bothered, and said, ‘Does that mean that you remained in the service of the Dean while you were taken by the King? I’d have thought that you’d find it hard to serve both masters.’
‘I was never in the Dean’s service. I only ever joined the King’s.’
‘So you say. Others tell us differently.’
‘Then speak to them, if you don’t like what I can tell you.’
‘Where were you on the night of four days ago?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Were you at the Cathedral Close?’
‘At night I have to be within these walls, Sir Knight. I’m a corrodian, I have to live by the rules of this House. What, do you think that I’d have broken out through this gate, broken in by one of the Cathedral’s gates, killed a man, and then fled back, all without being noticed? I am not so young as I was … Perhaps I could do it, but I suppose I should be grateful that you think I could anyway. It shows how much respect you must have for me.’
‘Where were you last night?’
‘Where were you? You had more chance of getting out to kill someone.’
‘The first man to die was Henry Saddler. We know you knew him, and we know he held your secrets for you.’
‘Then call him to denounce me! Oh, but he’s dead, isn’t he? That makes it rather hard, doesn’t it?’
‘And last night,’ Baldwin continued impassively, ‘Friar Nicholas also died. He was murdered too — another man who could have accused you. He would most certainly have recognised you from that attack.’
‘No, he wouldn’t. And I didn’t attack him,’ William said. ‘That was someone else.’
Baldwin faced William, hands on his hips. ‘Master, this matter is too serious for me to bother about you. I look at you and I see an old man, withered and bent. You are not an ideal candidate for a murderer. To stand out in the cold waiting for a man to arrive, when it could mean you’d miss your curfew and get locked out … it is not likely. Whatever happened forty years ago is also not my concern. However, I have been charged by the Dean to seek the present murderer of Henry Saddler and this Friar Nicholas. It is possible that the murderer of these two has been here for many years, and his ire has only recently been encouraged by something. I will not seek to accuse you of past crimes, but if you can shed any light on this mystifying pair of murders, please do so.’
William looked at him steadily, then at the Bailiff. ‘All right. I can tell you little enough, but what I can remember, I will tell.’
The three of them sat at a low bench nearby, and as the light began to fade, William told them his story.
‘We all wanted John Pycot to be Dean. Everyone in the city was on his side. He knew Exeter, you see. You can’t beat a man like that, who’s prepared to fight for his own people. No, he was one of us, well enough. Then in comes this new Bishop, and he reckons to control everything in his own way. Quivil, his name was, and he sought to curtail some of John’s efforts. See, John was a bit of a quick man to make a shilling or two. Always looking for the next profit, and that wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, was it? So Quivil gave him short shrift. Tried to stop some of his frauds. That was why he didn’t recognise him as his Dean.’
‘How would a Dean like him be able to fiddle the Fabric Rolls or the other Cathedral finances?’ Simon asked. ‘If the Treasurer was intelligent, it should have been difficult to pass anything remotely dangerous.’
‘You could say John had an inside knowledge of the Treasurer’s mind,’ Will said with a chuckle. ‘He was Treasurer. That was one of Quivil’s points of disagreement with him. And then he lost the battle, because the Archbishop, God bless him, sided with John. I don’t know why. Must have been they were old friends, or maybe John was going to share some of his profits or something, I don’t have any idea, but the long and the short of it was, this Chaunter Walter was imposed on the Cathedral. If it was just the Cathedral, that’d be fine, but this lad wanted to restrict John’s works generally, and we liked John. Like I say, men will support the fellow they can trust, and there’s no one like the man you grew up with to instil trust, is there?
‘John put together the force. There were about twenty of us … don’t remember all the names and faces, but I do remember my lot. There was me, Henry, and some others. We all stood in the shadows up near that arch where Fissand Gate is now. There wasn’t any wall in those days — it was the murder that led to Quivil petitioning the King for a safety wall. He realised that he was in danger from the city folk, I guess.
‘We waited in the darkness until we saw the first chink of light from the door. See, the man who was guaranteed to be there was Chaunter Walter. The Matins service was one of his own, one he had to participate in. He knew we hated him. He wasn’t some idiot from London who’d think he could beat any number of Deb’nshoir churls without suffering pain, see. He tried to make sure that he always had a safe route home from the Cathedral. So he did that night. And we fucked him, we did!
‘It was easy. We paid a man to tell him he was all right. That way the Chaunter reckoned he was safe, and he stepped out happily into our trap.’
‘He was content to take the word of one man?’ Baldwin asked dubiously.
‘Yes, because the man told him it was dangerous!’
‘What are you saying?’ Simon snapped. ‘Are you playing with us?’
‘No, Bailiff. I’m telling the truth,’ William wheezed, shaking his head with delight at the simplicity of the ploy. ‘What we did was, we told the fellow to tell the Chaunter that there was a big ambush, but that his own men had heard, and they’d told the Bishop. The Bishop had his men all about the place, and they’d catch all the villeins trying to kill him. They’d be thrown into gaol and Chaunter Walter could have the pleasure of seeing them punished. Oh, he liked the idea of that, too, the bastard!’
‘What he didn’t know was that the man who told him this was in the pay of the attackers,’ Baldwin guessed.
‘Yes. After that, he sent a trusted man himself to tell the Bishop’s men — the same man who had warned him. And then that man came back and let him know all was well; the Bishop’s men would save him. I’m told he was still gazing about him, wondering where his rescuers were, when the mob cut him down.’
Baldwin pursed his lips. ‘So who was this man?’
‘Henry knew — he paid him. But I’ll tell you another thing, sir. When it all went down, it happened really fast. We saw him at the door, then he was out with his boys, all of them walking to his house, which is where the Charnel Chapel stands now, and suddenly, one lad jumps past us all and hares off towards him. It was a novice, a boy called Vincent, who was utterly devoted to the Chaunter, and all he was trying to do was save his master’s life. Christ’s Balls, you could have cut me down with a nail-parer! I just thought, God’s Teeth, this’ll screw everything! I ran after him, and all the way he was shouting out to protect his master, yelling at the top of his voice that it was a trap, that there were men all about waiting to kill him. I think they all thought he was part of the ruse, though, and the first man he came to killed him on the spot.’
Baldwin leaned forward. ‘Who was that, then?’