Her only fear was that he wanted her purely as a prize; a trophy to ornament his arm when he walked abroad or invited guests to his home. She had heard of loveless marriages where the wives were bored and listless. They had little communion with their families or friends because their husbands were jealous of their companionship, or perhaps feared that they might speak to others in a derogatory manner of their lives. These were the sort of men she feared. If Udo were to become like that, she didn’t know how she would survive. By merely thanking God that he would not live for too long, and when he died, he would leave her a wealthy widow, she supposed. It was a grim prospect, and one that scared her. But she had no choice.
‘You are thoughtful, my dear?’ he asked.
She could have sworn at herself for allowing her thoughts to become so visible. Colouring slightly, she said, ‘I was thinking of my poor father. He would have been so pleased to see me wedded to so successful a merchant. But he will be watching over us, I am sure.’
‘Yes,’ he said, with a slight clearing of his throat. He appeared nervous for a moment.
‘I do miss him,’ she said.
Mabilla sniffed slightly and Julia saw her turn a little away. ‘He would be very proud. I know that he was keen to have a respectable man for his only child, and he must have been as delighted as I am, Master Udo.’
‘I thank you,’ Udo said with a slight bow. ‘And now, perhaps I should offer this? With your permission, Mistress?’
Julia saw her mother give a nod, for Mabilla was as thrilled to see what the man had brought as was Julia herself. Udo stood and approached her with a small leather purse. He weighed it in his hand with an anxious expression.
‘My dearest, I have bought this for you, thinking that it would enhance your beauty, but now … I cannot but think that you are too perfect with nothing. I … I hope it is proof of my sincere devotion to you, and that you will look on me forever as a kind husband and master, who seeks only to make you happy. In all that I can do, I will seek your pleasure. I … Well, here it is.’
He suddenly thrust it out towards her and she took it. The purse itself was pretty enough, with small embroidery about the outside, but it was quite heavy, and she looked up at him with some doubt, wondering whether she should open it. He nodded encouragement, and she released the thongs at the neck.
From it spilled a necklace of gold, with a pendant that formed a cross.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked, and now the anxiety was all too plain.
‘I love it!’ she whispered, and smiled at him with tears of gratitude in her eyes.
The Priory’s gatekeeper was reluctant to allow them entry, even when Simon used the name of the Bishop as his authority, but before too long the prior himself had arrived and he haughtily deigned to allow Simon and Thomas into the Priory’s lands.
‘What do you want from me?’ Peter demanded.
‘I have heard that you were one of the men involved in the murder of the Chaunter many years ago. There have been two murders since then, of Henry Potell and a Friar Nicholas. Both were implicated in the original plot with you, I understand.’
Peter looked at him and his upper lip lifted just slightly, enough to expose a tooth. It looked like an expression of deep and sincere contempt. ‘I have nothing to say on the matter. And now you must leave.’
‘I’m going nowhere, Prior. You may not like me or my tone, but that’s not my concern!’ Simon spat. His head felt light from lack of sleep, and just now his temper was close to boiling over. ‘My best friend and companion was almost killed last night by an arrow. He may be dead now for all I know, and I want the murderer found before anyone else is harmed.’
‘Your friend?’ Peter said, his face suddenly still, as though he was thinking very quickly indeed. ‘Why should that be?’
‘I do not know, unless Baldwin’s questions were bringing him close to the identity of the murderer. If that’s the case, the killer should beware, because I intend to bring him to justice — and for trying to murder a knight, that will be a rope! I’ll take pleasure in pulling it tight round his neck myself!’
‘What do you expect from me?’
‘Your help, and that means telling me what happened on the night that the Chaunter was murdered.’
Peter stared at him, and then gazed up at the sky for a long while, before giving a low sigh and clearing his throat. ‘Very well.’
He told them all about the dissension in the Cathedral’s Chapter. It was much the same as the story which all the others had told. ‘It was simple, really. A fight between those who knew the city and had lived here all their lives. I was born here, only a short distance up from the main gates by which you entered this morning. I used to play ball in the street, bouncing a pig’s bladder against the wall of this Priory. Sometimes we’d play football against the next parish, seeing which could take the ball into the opposing team’s churchyard. It was hard work.’
Thomas nodded with a grin. ‘I remember that. You used to gang up on my friends. We were in the parish of the Holy Trinity, while you were in St John’s.’
‘Yes. We used to play on festive days. Your parish, Matt in St Mary Major, Joel in St Mary Arches. And my team always used to win.’ Peter smiled at the memory. ‘We could be quite competitive. Especially Matt and William, as I remember it.’
‘They were competitive about everything. The only time that I felt at risk of my life was when Matthew and William were betting on their target-shooting at the butts. Matt was winning as usual, and then I took a bow and fired one that beat them both! I thought they’d lynch me. William was furious,’ Thomas recalled.
‘What of Henry Potell? Was he there too?’ Simon asked.
‘Henry was born in St Kerrian’s, as was poor Vincent.’
‘He was the man killed when he tried to warn the Chaunter against the attack?’
‘Yes. Some thought him a traitor, but he was honourable. He had given his word, and he lived in the Chaunter’s house. That was the trouble, you see. When the Bishop arrived he upset a lot of people. He didn’t understand how we’d grown up in the alleys and streets, forming our own relationships. It was as though he was deliberately pitting all those who were from the city against the newcomers. I can recall us all arguing about it in a tavern, some of us wanting to support the new Bishop and give him the benefit of the doubt, while others were determined to oppose him and force him to see reason.’
‘What of the friar?’
‘Aye, well, Friar Nicholas always argued for supporting him. He was a foreigner too, you see, and reckoned that the Bishop was always right.’
‘But I thought you paid him to spread the story that the Chaunter needn’t fear any attack?’ Simon blurted out. He was suddenly aware of an appalling lassitude. The foundation of discovering the murderer was the fact that the prior had paid the traitor. If Nicholas wasn’t the traitor, then what could be the reason for his death?
‘Nick wouldn’t have considered betrayal,’ Peter said with conviction. ‘No, it was another.’
‘Who?’ Simon demanded, but with less force. In truth, he was very tired now. ‘It has been said that you were the man who paid a man to pass on the lie to the Chaunter that led him to believe that he was safe.’
Peter shrugged. ‘It wasn’t me,’ he said. ‘The man who paid was more deeply involved than me. I was only there because I sought advancement. I thought that if I was to help John Pycot get what he wanted, he’d see to it that I was well-rewarded. More fool me!’
Simon grunted at this sign of his self-contempt. ‘You didn’t get much from it, did you?’
‘At least I am now the prior of this place, if only for a while.’
‘Tell me about the attack again,’ Simon said.