‘I think it means that our friends were prepared to be on the road alone for a while. They had pewter with them, so if they were forced away from the Bishop’s entourage, they had something to sell. But then I think that temptation came in their way, and instead they robbed a church or two. That’s what these jewels look like, anyway — jewels from a cross or a box of relics.’
‘I haven’t heard of any thefts,’ Simon said.
‘Perhaps these were taken from a church in Sussex, or Kent, though, Simon. Why should we have heard of them? It is no shock to think that these two may have been so dishonest as to steal in order to keep themselves funded, is it?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Thomas said.
‘It is very simple. They knew that when they came to England, they were likely to be left to their own devices for a while. The Bishop told them that they would have to be prepared in case they were told to leave his party. And strangely enough, that is what happened to them.’
‘What does it mean, though?’ Thomas demanded.
‘It means that Simon and I need to talk to André again at least, before we go and speak with another man.’
André shivered a little. Up in the open air, the weather may have been grey, but it was at least mildly warm. Not so down here. The undercroft felt as though the very walls were made of ice. A damp squelching and sucking noise was his constant companion, and when he moved his feet, there was a slap of water underfoot. Already his boots had begun to leak, and now he was feeling the cold seeping into his arms as well. He held them wrapped closely about his torso as he walked back and forth.
Pons was huddled on a timber at the far side of the chamber, scowling down at the black water that lay all about. It was repellent, noisome, and foul to the touch, that water. André could believe it came straight from the privies. At least he hadn’t heard or seen any rats.
The door opening was blinding at first, even though the day was so dull, and André had to shield his eyes.
‘You! Get out here!’ a harsh voice bellowed.
André stood undecided a moment or two, and it was apparently enough to infuriate his gaoler. The man sprang inside, gripped him by the shoulder, swiftly lashed him over the back three times with a short whip, and had him out through the door and the door slammed and relocked, before he knew what was happening. As he stumbled over a loose stone, falling headlong, he was aware only of the shrieking pain in his back from the whip.
‘Get up, Frenchie!’ the gaoler snapped, and André saw the whip rise again. He whimpered and threw an arm over his face, but even as he did, he saw a hand stop the gaoler.
‘Leave him, man. He’s mine now.’
André felt himself being lifted gently, and then he was led up the stairs once more and into the daylight. It was that knight again, the one who’d arrested him.
‘We have had an interesting last hour or so,’ he said.
André shook his head. ‘I have not.’
‘We found these,’ Baldwin said, and beckoned. Simon stepped forward with a leather bag, which Baldwin took and opened. ‘Recognise these?’
André did. ‘They are mine. Where did you get them from? You have been riffling through my belongings? I shall have plenty to tell the Bishop when I-’
‘This is very interesting. However,’ Baldwin said, reaching into the bag and bringing out the small jewel-purse, ‘I think he will not be happy to learn that these have been looted from a church. Do you?’
André was silent. There was no way that this knight could have heard about the church, surely. They had been so careful. ‘Why do you say that?’
Baldwin carefully stowed the stones back in the bag, and then gripped André about the throat. ‘Listen to me well, felon! I want clear and honest answers from you, right now! I have enough here in this bag to have you hanged by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Understand me? You came here knowing you were going to be sent away from the Bishop of Orange’s party, didn’t you? You knew because he supplied you with pewter plates to sell so you could subsist after you left his party. And then, later, you returned to him at Beaulieu so that you could remain under his protection. But you made the mistake of trying to silence poor Jack.’
‘Poor Jack? You say so? He was a fool who wanted to blackmail us, nothing more. Yes, the Bishop gave me the pewter to look after, but not because he said I was to be forced from the party. He just said that if we were to become separated, this would give us some money to protect us.’
‘And then you robbed a church as well.’
‘We needed some aid. We couldn’t go to a pawnbroker immediately, and we had nothing!’
‘So you robbed a church, and still had nothing.’
André was silent. Better to allow the knight to think that they had robbed a church than the truth.
‘What was Jack blackmailing you over?’ Simon asked.
‘He said we had the oil and he wanted it. But we don’t have it!’
‘Why kill him for that?’
‘Why do you think? If he was to go about the place saying that we had the stuff, what would happen to us? We would be arrested and tortured, wouldn’t we? We are French, and your King has no love for our people since our King has taken back his lands.’
‘Fair enough,’ Baldwin said. ‘Although if you had the oil and had sold it, that would make a more sensible reason for you to try to keep his mouth shut.’
‘No, we-’
‘It was like that, wasn’t it, Baldwin?’ Simon said. ‘They had Jack, but as soon as they saw us, they killed him. Right there in the open, even though they knew they’d be seen.’
‘Yes. It was almost as though killing him was bound to be less dangerous than allowing him to talk.’
‘Letting him talk and accuse us of possessing the oil was a great deal more dangerous to us than silencing him forever.’
‘Because the Bishop of Orange could protect you.’ Simon nodded, but with the disgust plain on his face.
‘Oui.’
The simple answer was infuriating to Thomas. He had listened to almost all their conversation without flinching, but now, to hear his friend had died from mere expediency, made his blood boil over. He moved forward, and it was only Simon’s speed that prevented him from spitting the Frenchman right there.
‘Later, friend. You will have your chance later,’ Baldwin said firmly, grasping his right hand before he could draw his sword.
Gradually the anger left him, and while André cowered, Thomas grew calmer. ‘To think that a slug like this could harm a gentle, kindly man like Jack is almost more than I can bear. I swear, man, I pray to see you swinging by your neck.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘There is still Master Ayrminne to speak to,’ Baldwin said. ‘He was mentioned by Jack as he died. Do you think we should go straight to him?’
‘I would go anywhere rather than back into the King’s hall,’ Simon said, with a glance over his shoulder at all the men filtering back towards the chamber where the discussions were to continue.
As he spoke, Ayrminne appeared through the little gate in the Old Palace Yard wall from the Abbey grounds. ‘There he is, let us speak with him now,’ Baldwin said.
Ayrminne was less than delighted to see them approach him. ‘What is it, Sir Baldwin? I am to attend to the King’s debate.’
‘Yes, of course. And so are we, so perhaps we could walk there together?’
‘Why?’ Ayrminne said as they set off together.
There was a thick crush of men entering the doors, and Baldwin waited a moment, studying the canon as he considered the best means of getting the responses he needed.
Ayrminne was a political man from his boots to his shirt-collar. He had achieved a great deal in his life, rising to canon. He could hope to win a bishopric, if he won the right patron. It wouldn’t require much. ‘Master, you are a bright man, and I could try to deceive you with flattery or simple lies, but there is little point, I think. You know what the game is here as well as I do.’