‘This old affair of the murder of Chaunter Walter is springing up once more. It is regrettable, but there is little we can do to cover it all up if it comes into the open. I wanted to warn you, Matthew. I know that the whole thing must be deeply distressing for you, but there is nothing I or the Dean can do to stop it, I fear. The dead saddler was certainly involved in the attack, and of course the friar was there.’
‘Yes, I remember. Poor Nicholas. I was at his side when he won that terrible wound,’ Matthew said incomprehendingly. ‘But I don’t …’
‘Of course,’ Stephen said. ‘I wasn’t in the Cathedral that night, but when I returned, you were still in a fever, and Nicholas was at death’s door.’
Matthew nodded. It was odd how many men had apparently been out of Exeter that night. The Vicar of Ottery St Mary, for example, had been out of the Close; so had the Vicar of Heavitree. Both were later found guilty of being there at the murder, of course, and they’d paid heavily for their crime in the Bishop’s gaol.
Still, he told himself, there was no point raking up old suspicions. No one really wanted to go into the matter again.
‘If it were possible to ask these two men to hold their investigation, I should do so,’ Stephen said quietly, gazing up at the cross that hung on his wall above the screens passage.
Matthew found his manner disquieting, but then he told himself again that it must surely be Stephen’s great age. The man was exhausted, but he must carry on until he collapsed. That was the sort of man he was.
And then a more unnerving idea came to him: perhaps the Treasurer had been one of the men attacking — it might even have been him who knocked Matthew down on the night he so nearly died. A man who had done that would later make amends in any way he might. He could take a novice into his own department and see to it that he was well and carefully trained and nurtured, so that he would himself become indispensable.
Matthew found himself studying his mentor with a feeling of prickly nervousness running up his spine. This man, the one who had given him the better posts, who had looked after him in forty years of life at the Cathedral, had once been there trying to kill him just because … Why?
‘Stephen,’ he said quietly. ‘Was it you struck me down?’
The Treasurer was still staring at the cross. He blinked then, as though the cross had itself stung him. There was a slight moisture at the corner of his eye, Matthew saw, and he felt the shock thrill through him before Stephen had even answered.
‘The Chaunter was divisive,’ Stephen said. ‘He was a malign influence on the Cathedral — my God, anyone could see that!’ His eyes were on the cross again, as though pleading his sincerity. Gradually his eyes fell, and he turned his attention back to Matthew. ‘But I swear to you, Matthew, I never wanted to see you or anyone else harmed! Only him! He was evil, a man who would divert us all from our tasks and drive a wedge between the Bishop and his Chapter. Who could want to leave him in power when his entire efforts were dedicated to ruining us all? Any man who had a relationship, no matter how tenuous, with the Dean and Treasurer, was detested by de Lecchelade, and belittled and demeaned. No one who held the good reputation and honour of the Cathedral in his heart could tolerate his behaviour.’
‘He was the Treasurer, wasn’t he?’
‘Dean Pycot? Yes. And perhaps he should have given that up earlier, but it’s a man’s nature to keep to the job he knows and with which he feels most comfortable. Dean John was like you, Matthew. He was excellent when it came to numbers; they held no secrets for him. It was possible for him to run a finger down a roll and when he reached the bottom, he could tell you the total. As fast as this,’ he demonstrated, running a forefinger down a column. ‘I could never emulate that, so I never thought I should take over from him.’
‘He was your master?’
‘I lived with him. I was Clerk to the Works at the time, and when Dean Pycot was made Dean I couldn’t take over. I was too young, Matthew. Far too inexperienced.’
‘It has been said that the Dean siphoned away a great deal of money.’
‘Such accusations are easy to level against another man,’ the Treasurer said dismissively. ‘It is a great deal harder to prove that you are innocent.’
‘So you took his part during that attack?’
‘I swear I didn’t hurt you, Matthew,’ Stephen said. He looked at Matthew again with real fear in his eyes. ‘I have wanted to tell you so many times in the last four decades, but there has never seemed to be the right moment. At first you were so badly beaten, it seemed ridiculous to add to your trials by saying I was myself one of those who might have hurt you; then when you were healed, it seemed foolish to risk my own position; more recently, it seemed madness to try to bring up long-dead history again.’
‘But now?’
‘The Dean has asked me who was here then. Who still lives at the Cathedral who was here forty years ago.’
Matthew understood. ‘So you must tell him of my part. And that you too were here.’
‘Yes,’ Stephen said, and looked away with shame flooding his eyes. His voice was soft. ‘I would have your forgiveness, if you feel you could be so generous towards me.’
He looked pathetic. Matthew was repelled by his tears and weakness. ‘I forgive you,’ he said, ‘provided you were not the man who actually beat me and left me for dead. If it were not you, who was responsible for my injuries?’
‘It was dark, Matthew. I think we’ll never know. I was myself running to attack de Lecchelade, but I know I didn’t hit you.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Matthew demanded hotly. ‘If it was so dark and you were so lost as to not know what was going on, how can you tell?’
‘You were knocked senseless, were you not? I did not hold a club, Matthew. I had only a sword.’
Simon hauled Thomas to his feet. He stood like a man who has lost all his will to resist further, his head hanging, his expression utterly devoid of hope. There was only a grim fatalism in his eyes.
Simon had captured many people in his time. Some felons would wail and tear at their bonds, others would show no remorse, only a determination to escape any possibility of retribution. Seeing a man so hangdog was not unusual; it was a common attitude of one who had committed a crime in a flash of rage, only to regret his own behaviour later, especially when he was caught.
‘Get a move on!’ Simon growled, and the man stumbled slightly as he walked forward, his legs moving loosely and in a gangling manner, like one who was drunk or befuddled.
Baldwin was already outside, and Simon manoeuvred Thomas to the door just as Sara appeared in the lane.
‘Thomas?’ she said, glancing at him and then looking from Baldwin to Simon. ‘Who are you?’
Baldwin introduced himself and Simon, and then nodded towards Thomas. ‘This man was in your house to steal your money.’
‘What money?’ she asked with an expression of surprise. ‘I don’t have any.’
‘There were some coins on your table,’ Baldwin said. He beckoned to Jen. ‘You have the coins?’
‘Here they are,’ Jen said, heaving her bulk through the door and holding her hand out to Sara. ‘Look, this is what he was trying to take.’
‘These aren’t mine,’ Sara said. ‘I don’t have more than two pennies, and they’re here,’ she added, hefting her purse in her hand. ‘I wouldn’t leave money in my house.’
‘Then where did the pennies come from?’ Simon demanded.
‘I tried to explain,’ Thomas said wearily. ‘I put them there for Sara. When I decided to leave the city, I wanted to give Sara something to help her get by. I left her all the whole coins in my purse. That woman saw me enter and chose to assume the worst of me. When I was putting the coins down, she hit me.’
‘And where did you come by all these coins?’ Simon asked.
‘They are the money I’ve been paid for my work. Since I’ve taken away Sara’s husband, I thought the least I could do was try to help her.’