Meanwhile, de Wolfe was called frequently to present new matters, which came from the mass of parchment rolls that Thomas de Peyne produced from a wooden box at the back of the dais, with Walter de Ralegh and Serlo de Vallibus officiating from their chairs at the front. John had a stool at the end of one of the clerk’s tables, to be near Thomas’s store of documents. When required, he grabbed a roll from his clerk and marched over to stand alongside the Justices and recite a summary of the case, with which Thomas had primed him a few minutes earlier. Being unable to read what was on the roll made it difficult, but if any clarification of the matter was needed, he thrust the parchment at Serlo and let him pick out what he wanted.
At the other end of the court, his more literate brother-in-law was carrying out much the same function as himself with the other two judges, though their cases were slower and more complex, dealing with land, inheritance, marriage contracts and arguments about freemen and villeins. The morning wore on until a break was called at noon, when the four Justices went back to the New Inn for their meal. This was no more than a few hundred yards from Rougemont, and de Wolfe walked with them, flanked by Sergeant Gabriel and the four men-at-arms that Ralph Morin had assigned as an escort whenever the King’s men were abroad in the streets. He left them at the door of the inn and went on to Martin’s Lane to have his own meal with Matilda. She was still relatively benign after the previous night’s banquet — and with the prospect of another at the castle the following evening.
He managed to hold her attention with an account of the more colourful of the morning’s cases, until near the end of the meal when there was a dramatic interruption. The outer door crashed open, then the inner one to the hall burst open and someone almost fell inside, behind the screens that kept the winter draughts at bay. A wild figure appeared and Matilda leapt to her feet to shriek her protests at such an unseemly intrusion, for it was the despised Gwyn, the usual harbinger of bad news. For once, he was not cowed by her outburst, as the news he had for his master was too urgent.
‘Crowner, one of the Justices has been attacked! And there was another Bible message and they’ve arrested Thomas for it!’ he yelled, his arms flailing like the sails of a windmill.
Ignoring Matilda’s commands for the dishevelled man to get out of her hall, John hurried across, seized Gwyn’s arm and hustled him out into the vestibule and then into the lane. ‘Calm down, man. Tell me what’s happened.’
Gwyn tugged at the coroner’s sleeve, urging him towards the high street and the New Inn. ‘You told Thomas to take the rolls for some of this afternoon’s cases down to Serlo de Vallibus, so that he could look at them before they were presented.’
‘I know that — two of the killings are false allegations, I suspect,’ John said. They were hurrying around the corner into the main street.
‘One of Gabriel’s men came racing up to the gatehouse just now, yelling that an attempt had been made on the life of de Vallibus. He went off to find the sheriff, and I ran like hell down to the New Inn.’
They were trotting now, thrusting aside townsfolk who were standing at stalls or looking into the shop fronts of traders.
‘When I got there, Thomas had been grabbed by the guards, apparently on Sir Peter Peverel’s orders, and marched away to the castle.’
The inn was now a few yards away, and Gwyn had just enough time to finish telling the little he knew. ‘Alan Spere, the landlord, let me through and pointed up the stairs. I dashed up and saw the three other Justices clustered round de Vallibus, who was lying on his pallet, groaning. Then Peverel recognised me and began shouting that I was another of them, whatever that meant. Walter de Ralegh pulled me out of the room and told me to go for you, saying that Thomas had attacked Serlo and left a Gospel message, proving he was the killer.’
Bewildered and incredulous, John reached the doorway of the New Inn just ahead of his officer and skidded into the short passage and up the stairs. Ahead was a narrow stairway with open treads, divided into short two flights with a small landing halfway. At the top, stood one of the men-at-arms and as John thundered up the stairs, he looked uncertain whether or not to challenge him, but John brushed him aside impatiently and Gwyn followed up with a shove that sent the soldier staggering against the wooden wall. A planked door on the left was open and a babble of voices came from inside. As de Wolfe barged in, five heads turned towards him.
‘Here he is, the King’s damned crowner!’ brayed Peter Peverel, ‘Now perhaps he’ll see reason about his evil little clerk.’
The others in the room were the three judges, Richard de Revelle and Ralph Morin, with Serlo de Vallibus groaning on his blanket. The left side of his head was partly covered by a damp cloth, whose centre was pink with watery blood.
Gwyn hovered in the doorway, behind his master, who took in the scene at a glance, then fixed Walter de Ralegh with his dark eyes. ‘What happened?’ he said shortly, his incisive manner quelling the ferment of talk.
De Revelle answered for the Justices: ‘Y our accursed clerk attacked our noble judge, that’s what happened. A nd left a trademark that denounces him as this killer.’
The sheriff gloated over the situation, for at last he was giving his brother-in-law grief, instead of receiving it from him.
‘Who saw de Peyne strike the blow?’ snapped John, glaring about him, as whatever had been said, he refused to believe it.
‘Come on, de Wolfe, just accept what you’re told,’ bellowed de Ralegh. ‘The little swine was seen to come into the inn as bold as brass. He went upstairs and then ran out as if the devil was after him, but the man-at-arms grabbed him as he was going out of the door.’
‘Why did he hold him?’ grated John.
‘Because at that moment, Serlo here staggered out of this room and called for help — then fell down the stairs,’ cut in Peter Peverel, with almost malicious glee.
‘I asked if anyone saw him attack de Vallibus,’ de Wolfe repeated. ‘I sent him here with a bundle of rolls, as arranged.’ He looked quickly around the chamber. ‘There they are, on that chest.’ Four or five rolls of parchment lay on an oak box, and a couple had fallen on to the floor.
‘He must have taken the opportunity to try to kill Serlo,’ boomed Gervase de Bosco, the one Justice who so far had stayed silent.
‘Mary, Mother of God, why should he do that?’ burst out de Wolfe, desperately trying keep the alleged truth at arm’s length.
‘Because of this — some warped notion of justice.’
De Ralegh held out a torn scrap of parchment, which even in the turmoil reminded de Wolfe of the message left at the scene of the Jewish moneylender’s death. There was writing on it, but he handed it back straight away. ‘What does it say?’
Archdeacon Gervase took the fragment, which was about the size of his hand. ‘It’s a quotation from the Gospel of St Matthew, though virtually the same one is in St Luke.’
De Wolfe felt a sudden intense sadness that it was not Thomas who was explaining this to him. The last time, Brother Rufus had translated the clue, but now it was a portly archdeacon from Gloucester.
‘Tell me again what it says,’ demanded Walter de Ralegh.
Gervase held out the vellum at arm’s length better to see the penned words. ‘ “Judge not, that ye be not judged,” ’ he intoned.
Suddenly a voice came from the bed, wavering yet clear. ‘The full quotation goes on, “For with what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged. And with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” ’
They all turned to look down at the bed, where the previously inert Serlo now appeared wide awake. Before they could speak, he continued, ‘Luke adds, “Condemn not and ye shall not be condemned”, but I’m unaware why someone should have taken such a dislike to the many judgements I must have handed down since I became a King’s Justice.’