Thomas’s long nose moved a little nearer to the chancel steps. ‘They seem to be P-R-O-V, as far as I can make out,’ he said uncertainly.
‘What in hell’s name does that mean?’ growled Gwyn.
Thomas stepped back from the body thankfully and stood thinking for a moment, looking woebegone in his threadbare black gown, tied around the waist with a grubby white cord.
‘Given the two previous biblical messages on the Jew and the woman, it surely can mean only one thing.’
‘Which is what?’ barked the coroner, exasperated by his long-winded assistants.
‘The other two were from the Gospels, but this must be the Old Testament. “P-R-O-V” must refer to the Book of Proverbs.’
‘And what does that tell us?’
The clerk looked sheepish, as his much-vaunted scholarship was, for once, found wanting. ‘The Old Testament is very large, Crowner. I know almost every word of the new books of Christ, but there are few priests, even great scholars, who can recollect every part of the Old Testament. I will have to refresh my memory.’
Gwyn gave a loud guffaw, which echoed throughout the empty church. ‘Caught you out at last, have we, Thomas-Know-It-All! I thought you had this religion business at your fingertips.’
The clerk looked angry. ‘I only have the Vulgate for the Gospels in my bag here. I will have to find the full Bible to study Proverbs.’
Sergeant Gabriel made an obvious suggestion. ‘This is a church, surely they’ll have one here?’
‘Not by any means. Some parish priests can’t even read and many poor churches can’t afford the Vulgate of St Jerome,’ retorted Thomas cynically. ‘St Mary Arches is a cut above many, though, so perhaps they will. I’ll try the aumbry.’
He looked around the building and limped off to a small door in the north wall of the chancel, bowing and making the Sign of the Cross repeatedly as he cut across in front of the altar. There was a large locker or cupboard behind the oaken door, built into the thickness of the wall, where the priests kept their service books and where the materials for the Sacred Host were stored. The others watched while Thomas rooted about on the shelves, crossing himself repeatedly as his hands passed near the chrismatory for holy oil and the pyx for the reserved bread. Then he backed out and reverently closed the door, holding a heavy leatherbound book. After a low obeisance to the altar, he crossed to the south side of the chancel and sat in the centre of the sedilia, a trio of wooden seats for the priest and his helpers. As he carefully turned the pages, John lost patience with watching him and motioned to Gwyn to lift the body from the steps. ‘Haul him away from this wax. I want to lever it off the stones without damaging it.’
His officer picked up the dead priest like a baby and stepped down to the floor of the nave. Red wine dripped from the nose and chin, staining the flagstones. Then Gwyn turned him over and laid him flat on his back below the steps.
Meanwhile, John had carefully slid the edge of his dagger under the plaque of candle-grease and popped it up intact. He opened the pouch on his belt, wrapped the wax in the ragged sheet of parchment that had been left on Aaron’s body and put them away. ‘Now let’s have a proper look at him,’ he grunted.
‘Are we taking him to St Nicholas’s?’ queried Gwyn, doubtfully. ‘That miserable prior won’t take kindly to us using his store as a mortuary again.’
‘This is a priest, so we’ll have to abide by what the clerics want done with the cadaver. I’ll get the Archdeacon up here straight away.’ De Wolfe called to Osric and told him to go to the cathedral and tell John de Alençon what had happened. Then John turned his attention to the corpse. There was nothing obvious to be seen, apart from the wetness and the reddish suffusion of the face. The lips and cheeks were violet, and a dribble of froth came from the mouth.
‘His phlegm is pinkish,’ observed Gwyn.
‘It’s no wonder, as he’s been breathing in good red communion wine,’ replied de Wolfe. ‘Let’s look at his neck and hands.’
There was nothing untoward to be seen there and the coroner rocked back on his heels alongside the body. ‘We can hardly undress him here, in front of the altar of his own church,’ he said. The priest wore his alb, a long robe of whitish-cream linen, with long sleeves, embroidered around the neck and hem. The coroner shied away from hauling it up to his neck to examine his chest and belly. ‘We’ll leave it until the cathedral settles him somewhere more private,’ he decided, getting to his feet.
In the chancel, Thomas de Peyne also rose and came to the steps, the Vulgate in his hands. For a moment, John thought that the little clerk was about to read a passage to the congregation, but Thomas said, ‘I’ve found it, Crowner. Once again, it’s most apt for the circumstances.’
De Wolfe and Gwyn stood silently side by side under the chancel arch as Thomas began reading. ‘I’ll just translate the general sense of bits of the later part of Solomon’s Book of Proverbs, for it’s scattered over a page or two.’ The clerk was in his element and his own troubles were forgotten for the moment as he stood in the church with the Book of Books in his hands.
‘Just get on with it, man’ grated his master, breaking the spell.
Thomas cleared his throat and slowly turned the Latin script into Middle English.
‘ “Who has redness of the eyes? They that tarry long at the wine. Look not upon the wine when it is red for it bites like a serpent and stings like an adder.”’
He turned back a page. ‘Here it says, “Oh, my son, take my advice and stay away from whores, for they form a deep and narrow grave.” ’ Thomas closed the book. ‘There’s more advice about staying on the path of righteousness, but the principal message is to avoid strong drink and loose women.’
De Wolfe stroked the black stubble on his chin. ‘The serpent and the adder certainly fit the little sketch on the wax. This fellow, whoever he is, undoubtedly knows his way about the scriptures.’
As Thomas limped back across the chancel to replace the book, Gwyn stated the obvious once more. ‘It has to be a priest. No one else would carry on like this.’
John nodded in agreement. ‘The sooner we get the cathedral heads together over this, the more chance we have of getting somewhere — for, I must admit, I have not the faintest idea where to start.’
‘A nd the deaths are starting to come more quickly,’ observed Gwyn. ‘Where does this bloody madman intend to stop, I wonder?’
The daily Chapter was to be held late in the morning, but before that, the coroner had another meeting with Exeter’s archdeacon, John de Alençon. The senior priest had already met de Wolfe earlier at St Mary Arches, when he had hurried around after being summoned by the constable Osric.
The ascetic cleric had been greatly distressed to see the body lying in the nave and had himself shriven it and given absolution, with Thomas de Peyne acting as his self-appointed assistant.
Soon a trio of other canons arrived, having heard the news on the episcopal grapevine, followed by a gaggle of vicars, secondaries and priests of other parishes. Soon the church had more people in it than it did at an average service and de Wolfe began to despair of performing his legal obligations. ‘Priest or no priest, there must be an inquest,’ he muttered, in the Archdeacon’s ear.
‘But not here and now, John,’ replied his friend. ‘The body must be taken down to the cathedral. There is a small chamber off the cloisters that is used as a mortuary when required.’ He looked around at the people milling in the nave. ‘This place must be brought to order — devotions here must be resumed as soon as possible. I’ll get one of the vicars to take charge — he was to be appointed here very shortly anyway, in place of this poor wretch.’
Leaving Gwyn to supervise the removal of the corpse, the two Johns made their way down to the great cathedral church of St Peter and St Mary, Thomas tagging along unobtrusively behind. The Archdeacon led the way to the Chapter House, a square wooden building just outside the south tower of the cathedral. The ground floor was the daily meeting place of the canons, where current church business was debated, everything from the order of services and choral matters, to finance and the disciplining of errant priests.