De Boterellis was a favourite of Henry Marshal and he launched into an opinion with no hesitation. ‘My Lord Bishop, among our devout and hard-working brothers, there are a few who have somewhat strange personalities. I hesitate to name them, but in these urgent circumstances, some enquiries seem justified.’
For the Virgin’s sake, get on with it, you crawler, thought de Wolfe savagely.
Thankfully, the Bishop expressed the same sentiment, if more politely, and de Boterellis hauled a small sheet of parchment from his pouch and consulted it.
‘There is Ralph de Capra, the incumbent of All-Hallows-on-the-Wall, who is a strange man, to say the least! He is solitary, even in a calling where many are withdrawn and not given to socialising. He does his job, but his flock complain that he is unapproachable and aloof. He seems to spend much of his time staring into space, talking to himself, and appears to be getting worse by the week.’
John thought that was also a fair description of Thomas de Peyne, but listened as the Precentor continued. ‘My brother John de Alençon can confirm this, I know, as he has had parishioners petition him on the matter.’
‘Is there nothing more specific, Precentor?’ asked the Bishop. ‘Being surly or disinterested is hardly suspicion of homicide.’
De Boterellis turned up his hands in a gesture of resignation. ‘I agree, my Lord, but we are grasping at straws, suggesting any man who varies from the norm. Another might be Henry de Feugères of St Petroc, who is well known to have a flaring temper when crossed. Two weeks ago, it seems he was involved in a brawl with one of his flock over some minor dispute about money.’
‘But these well-planned crimes seem at odds with such eruptions of anger, however reprehensible they may be.’
‘Indeed, Bishop, but again I say we are stabbing in the dark, if that is not too crude a phrase in the circumstances.’
‘So far we have not had a stabbing, thanks be to God,’ commented Henry Marshal wryly, seemingly determined to have the last word.
He turned to John de Alençon. ‘What about you, Archdeacon?’
The gaunt priest rose again to speak. ‘I concur with the Precentor’s choice, but have several other suggestions. The incumbent of St Mary Steps, Adam of Dol, is also a peculiar person. He proclaims and preaches an extreme version of hell-fire and damnation, which terrifies some of his flock, though I admit he attracts a large congregation.’
‘There is nothing wrong with reminding people of the penalties of sin,’ objected Thomas de Boterellis, anxious to claim the high moral ground before his bishop.
‘Certainly, but with Adam it has become an obsession. One has only to look at the murals he has painted on the walls of his nave to appreciate that he has a very morbid view indeed of life and death.’
John of Exeter, the cathedral Treasurer, broke in to offer support to the Archdeacon. He was an amiablelooking man, rather florid of face and with a shock of curly brown hair. ‘I have had several complaints from residents at the lower end of town about Adam’s style of curacy. Of course, we should always keep the wages of sin before our congregations, but with him punishment and retribution seem to be the only issues in his religious teachings.’
Henry Marshal, who had also received communications about the situation at St Mary Steps, let the matter pass for now. ‘You said you had several suggestions, Archdeacon?’
‘Yes, my Lord, I also feel uneasy about Walter le Bai, who is a vicar to our brother Canon Hugh de Wilton. He is older than many others of that rank in the clergy, probably because he has not been given preferment on account of his fondness for wine and ale. He has been absent from many of his duties and the canon informs me that he is seriously considering discharging him from his service.’
‘Does being a drunkard have any relevance to multiple murder?’ asked the Bishop, rather testily.
‘Not in itself, my Lord — but it seems that Walter le Bai is taking this prospect of discharge badly and when in his cups has been heard to utter threats against Canon de Wilton and indeed the diocesan powers generally.’
In turn, the remaining prebendaries offered their suggestions. John of Exeter rose again to point out Edwin of Frome, the priest of St Martins. ‘As we all know, Edwin is one of the few Saxons to have the cure of souls in this city and I am afraid that he feels this distinction adversely. He fails to blend well with his fellow priests and, perhaps from some unjustified conviction of persecution, has been heard to utter disparaging remarks about we Norman conquerors, even to the point of suggesting that another Saxon rebellion might be a good thing.’
There were contemptuous snorts and cluckings from the Precentor and the sheriff at this, but the Treasurer was undaunted. ‘Of course we know it is nonsense, but Edwin slides these ideas into his preaching. As it happens, the congregation at St Martin’s is small, but it points to a man who has other matters than the care of his parishioners in his mind, which divert him from his true vocation. He also has an obsession, like Adam of Dol — only Edwin’s is the literal accuracy of the Vulgate, which thesis he rams down the throat of almost everyone he meets.’
The Bishop nodded, though his face showed he thought little of Edwin of Frome as a murderer.
‘Finally you, Jordan. What have you unearthed from your rolls and manuscripts?’ His attempt at jocularity fell flat.
Canon de Brent lumbered to his feet. ‘I would point out that there is one priest in Exeter whose living is not in the gift of this diocese. Along with the priory of St Nicholas, St Olave’s is a daughter establishment of Battle Abbey. I know that its incumbent, Julian Fulk, is another disappointed man — indeed, an embittered man. He thought himself ready for far higher things than curator of a small church in the city. He has been to the archives several times, searching for all the details of the exclusion of St Olave’s from the general run of Church affairs in Exeter — our own copy of the Exon Domesday Book, kept here in this building, even mentions it as “Battle Church”, granted personally by King William.’
He caught the Bishop’s cold eye and realised he had wandered too far into his passion for history. He returned hastily to his story. ‘On those occasions, he has waxed angrily to me — indeed, once working himself up to a frenzy — about the iniquity of the Church authorities in denying him the high status to which he feels his education and character entitle him.’
He sat down again and the Bishop spent another moment or two musing on their suggestions, before passing his opinion.
‘It seems to me that the grounds for suspecting any of these men of crimes of violence are sparse indeed. It is true that, like any profession or calling, there will be a proportion of drunkards, libertines, disgruntled and disaffected men among our brethren, but from what you have just told me, I see no realistic suspicion of the sin of Cain among them.’ He paused and looked directly at the coroner and then the sheriff. ‘But we must do all we can to support our law officers, so I have no hesitation in consenting to whatever questioning they think fit. The royal judges are due here in a day or two, and let us hope that some resolution of this unhappy affair can be found before then. It would be a sad reflection on our city and county if the Justices in Eyre discovered a series of unsolved murders on their doorstep.’
He made as if to rise from his chair and the chaplain jerked forward to help him — but Henry Marshal sank back on to his red velvet cushion to make one last appeal. ‘Are we certain that there is no more to be said? Is there any last-minute thought in the minds of any of you?’
There was a short silent pause, then Thomas de Boterellis got to his feet again, with a show of reluctance. ‘My Lord Bishop, your final appeal causes me to speak again, for previously some embarrassment concerning the crowner here kept my tongue still.’ He half turned to give John de Wolfe a false smile of apology. ‘But it has to be said, no matter what offence I might give. You asked for names of priests whose behaviour might lead to suspicion. Perhaps we should cast our net a little wider to include former priests, those who have been ejected by our Mother Church for scandalous behaviour.’