‘Thomas Becket went too far down that road!’ grunted de Wolfe.
‘Yes, and remember how Rome made old King Henry pay for that! In fact, he had to reconfirm the right of the Church to keep all its clerics from the secular courts and try them itself in the consistory courts. William the Bastard himself established those with a charter at the time of the Conquest.’
‘Your lot keep these bishop’s courts very close to your chest! We laymen never get to know what goes on in them,’ complained the coroner.
‘There’s no secret about them, John. We just don’t like washing our dirty linen too publicly. They are convened as required in every diocese on the order of its bishop.’
‘Does he adjudicate in them himself?’
The priest gave a wry smile. ‘Good heavens, no! A bishop is too high and mighty to concern himself with such matters, which often involve dull charters or drunken and licentious clerks. He appoints a chancellor to run the proceedings, aided by the proctors and some senior priests.’
‘So could Henry Marshal appoint Gilbert de Bosco as chancellor?’
De Alençon nodded. ‘There is no reason why not — and if I read the politics of the situation right, it seems a distinct possibility.’
The coroner grimaced, though not because of the wine he had just sipped. ‘Very convenient for them! And does this bishop’s court have jurisdiction over all matters, even this ridiculous accusation against this Alice Ailward?’
‘It would be a strange remit for a consistory court, which normally deals with disciplinary matters concerning the clergy, as well as a host of legal affairs to do with Church property, charters, contracts and anything touching upon the internal administration of the diocese.’
John de Wolfe continued to worry away at the issue like a dog with a bone, sensing that the bishop, sheriff and some of the canons were manipulating this situation for their own devious ends. ‘If it is so dedicated to Church affairs, how then can it be used against the common people?’
De Alençon once more topped up their cups before replying. ‘We live in a Christian state, John, where all our activities are, at least in theory, governed by the tenets of the Church. Even kings and emperors wield their power at the behest of Rome, much as they kick against the pricks at every opportunity.’
De Wolfe felt another sermon approaching, but his friend came rapidly to the point.
‘The King’s peace and the secular courts govern most of the lives of people not in holy orders, but the canon law which rules we clerics reaches out over everyone when it comes to matters of faith. I have seen the ecclesiastical courts deal with offences such as blasphemy committed by the lay public and have heard of trials for heresy elsewhere, though admittedly they are uncommon.’
De Wolfe digested this before asking his last question. ‘So are you saying that the only charge that could be brought against an alleged witch is one of heresy?’
The archdeacon rubbed the curly grey hair that rimmed his tonsure as if goading his brain into action. ‘No, for the consistory court to find guilt they must be convinced that some form of criminal damage has been caused, even if it’s only the death of a pig or the failure of a cow to give milk. But no doubt idolatry, apostasy, sacrilege, blasphemy, disobedience to the true God and following other gods — in this case the Devil — could be squeezed into the arraignment, if the evidence warranted it.’
‘Evidence!’ snorted de Wolfe. ‘From what I’ve heard, it is a pack of scandalous lies, deliberately whipped up for some underhand reason.’
‘We can only wait on events, John. Let us tackle each problem as it arises — though I fear that this case will not be the last.’
As if to turn the tenor of the conversation in another direction, the canon poured them both more wine and settled back in his hard chair with a smile. ‘After all that gloomy talk, John, I have something more pleasant to tell you. It concerns your clerk, my nephew Thomas de Peyne.’
John’s black eyebrows rose. For months he had been trying to find some way of restoring Thomas to better spirits, as the little clerk had sunk to such depths of despondency that he had even tried to kill himself by jumping from the roof of the cathedral nave. His hopes of re-entering holy orders after his unfrocking two years earlier, had been repeatedly blocked by senior priests, mainly as a gesture against his master’s steadfast adherence to King Richard and his dogged opposition to the cause of Prince John.
‘You have news that he might be received back into his beloved Church?’
De Alençon raised a hand to cool his friend’s eagerness. ‘We are not there yet, John, but I have had encouraging words from Winchester. In fact I heard some weeks ago that there were certain enquiries going on there, but I held my tongue until I had further details, not wanting to raise false hopes in Thomas’s breast.’
‘So what have you heard?’ demanded John impatiently. He found the archdeacon almost as slow in imparting information as the infuriating Gwyn.
‘We all know that Thomas was accused by a girl being taught her letters by him, in the school attached to the cathedral there. She claimed that he made indecent advances to her, and as she had influential parents in the city, the whole thing was blown up into insinuations of attempted rape.’
‘Bloody nonsense. That feeble little fellow hasn’t got it in him,’ growled the coroner. ‘It was her word against his!’
‘Be that as it may, she’s done it again,’ said the archdeacon. ‘She recently entered a priory there as a novice and last month accused one of the lay brothers of interfering with her. But this time, unknown to her, there were two witnesses who swear that no such thing occurred. When challenged by the prioress, she broke down and confessed that she was lying.’
De Wolfe thumped the table with his fist, making the wine cups rattle. ‘Ha! So now you think Thomas’s disgrace might also be challenged?’
John de Alençon smiled his sweet smile. ‘Matters have already gone farther than that. Thankfully, someone there remembered the allegations against him and told the prioress. She taxed this girl with it and in her shame and remorse she also recanted her accusations against my sad little nephew.’
The coroner smacked his hands together in delight. ‘This calls for another cup of your excellent Poitou red, John! What happens next?’
‘I have already sent a message to the proctors in Winchester and to several of the canons whom I know, as well as to the chancellor of the court which found him guilty. I will be going there myself in a few weeks, and will pursue the matter vigorously.’
‘Have you given the good news to Thomas yet?’
‘No, I thought I would leave that to you, as he seems so devoted to his master. When you agreed to my suggestion that you take him on as your clerk, you earned his lifelong gratitude, John.’
‘Well, the poor fellow was destitute and nearly starving. What else could I do?’ grunted the coroner.
‘You are too modest, my friend. Under that craggy shell you call a body, there is a compassionate heart. But when you tell my nephew of this, impress on him that there is still some way to go before he can expect to hear anything of being received back into the religious fold. Though Winchester might be amenable, nothing has changed here in Exeter, where you have stubborn adversaries, John.’
De Wolfe finished his wine and stood up to leave. ‘I’ll be circumspect in what I tell him — but the poor fellow needs to have some hope in his life, so I’ll give him the news in the morning. Meanwhile, keep an eye on this mad canon and let me know if he gets up to any further mischief!’
As John had expected, the next morning Thomas went into ecstasies of delight when his master gave him a cautious account of the archdeacon’s news. The bluff Gwyn, whose teasing of the little clerk was a cloak for his affection and concern, was equally rapturous. He seized Thomas by the waist and held him squealing over his head in their chamber in the castle gatehouse.