John rose languidly from the table, picking up his ale-pot and leisurely finishing the contents. ‘I’d better see what the bloody man wants,’ he muttered to his friend, the fork-bearded Ralph Morin, who had watched the little scene with interest.
‘Is it what you think might have happened, John?’
The coroner tugged his sword-belt to a more comfortable position. ‘It may be — but almost everything upsets that man these days! I’ve been waiting for him to come back, as I’ve a few matters to tax him with myself.’
He loped across the rush-covered flagstones, aware of a sudden hush as a score of curious faces watched him, wondering what had put the sheriff into such a foul temper. Walking in past an anxious-looking guard posted outside, he was met with a further furious command. ‘Shut that damned door behind you! I don’t want every nosy swine in the castle listening to what I’ve got to say to you!’
De Wolfe kicked the door back with his heel so that it slammed into its frame. ‘You seem out of sorts today, brother-in-law,’ he said mildly. ‘Is your arse sore with all that riding?’
‘Never mind my arse! What do you mean by trying to have me humiliated before the exchequer in Winchester?’
John stared at the sheriff as the realisation that what he suspected may have happened had actually come to pass. It had been a possibility all along and de Wolfe was now thankful that he had taken precautions against it. He let his breath out slowly as he tried to anticipate where this revelation might lead. ‘So, Richard, I was right in sending my officer and clerk to follow you to Winchester!’
‘Officer and clerk? Whoreson liars and troublemakers, more like! But now you actually confess your involvement in this scandal?’ Standing behind his table, his foxy face pale with rage, the sheriff flung his gloves down and shook his fist at his wife’s husband. ‘That great Cornish oaf of yours and that disgusting weasel of a disgraced priest had the temerity to go squealing to the chief clerk of the treasury with some bloody list of what should have been in that treasure box. And then the clerk complained that it didn’t tally with the contents of the chest — virtually accusing me of stealing it!’
‘So did you steal it, Richard?’ asked John stonily.
The pallor of the sheriff’s face suddenly flushed to an alarming shade of red. ‘Damn you, John! I’ll not be spoken to like that! The list was patently false, a tissue of lies! You’ve done this to trap me — you’ve been plotting my downfall for months. But this time, you’ve gone too far. I’ll have you thrown out of office for this — or worse!’
De Wolfe advanced to the table and stooped to lean his fists on the edge, bending forward to come face to face with the now-incandescent sheriff, who stood a head shorter than the coroner. ‘Be careful what you say about being thrown out of office, Richard. You may have sailed too close to the wind once too often this time.’
Revelle beat his fists on the boards in a raging temper tinged with fear. ‘Thanks to those God-accursed servants of yours, the chief clerk to the treasury came and alleged that there was a difference between the coinage in the box and what was alleged to be on that damned parchment that your mealy-mouth clerk brought with him. Asked me for an explanation, blast him! A mere scribbler, questioning the integrity of the sheriff of one of the biggest counties in England!’ He wiped some spittle from the corner of his mouth before continuing to rant at his brother-in-law. ‘And anyway, the bloody treasure is mine by rights, being found on my land. Only your spiteful interference deprived me of it!’
John straightened up and sighed. ‘We’ve been through all this before — the inquest rightly decided that treasure trove belongs to the King. So taking any part of it is not only theft, but treason!’ He paused and then asked, ‘How much of it did the clerk say was missing?’
The sheriff’s features were by now dangerously purple. ‘Nothing was missing, damn you! Your so-called inventory was obviously deliberately falsified by you, to discredit me!’
It was de Wolfe’s turn to become annoyed at this blatant insult. He reached across the table and grabbed Richard by the neck of his embroidered tunic. ‘I falsified nothing! It was specifically to stop you embezzling any of this gold and silver that I had the contents of the chest carefully checked.’ He let go of the tunic and pushed the sheriff away contemptuously. ‘Every coin in that box was carefully counted and the witnesses included the priest at Cadbury, my clerk, the reeve and even the manor-lord, who was able to sign his own name on that list. Do you really think that all those would conspire to perjure themselves, just to discomfort you?’
Richard jerked his garments straight again after being manhandled. ‘Then the treasure could only have been pilfered between Cadbury and Exeter,’ he brayed triumphantly. ‘And the only man who had care of it during the journey was that shambling giant of yours, that Cornishman Gwyn!’
‘Are you now trying to shift the blame by accusing my officer?’ roared John, flaring into anger again at this slur against his oldest friend.
Now that the idea had taken root in his mind, de Revelle nurtured it enthusiastically. ‘Of course I am! The bastard obviously couldn’t resist dipping his hand into the box as soon as he was out of sight of Cadbury.’
‘Nonsense, you’re just trying to cover up your own dishonesty!’ raged the coroner, now furious at himself for failing to foresee this loophole that his crafty brother-in-law had seized upon. He should have had the treasure recounted when it arrived at Rougemont to save Gwyn from this now all-too-obvious accusation.
Richard sensed John’s unease and immediately capitalised upon it. ‘Yes, by Christ’s knuckles, that’s the only explanation!’ he exulted, seeing a chance to turn the tables on what could have been a disastrous situation. ‘And I’ll have that whoreson thief as soon as he returns from his disgraceful escapade in Winchester. He’ll be arrested the moment he sets foot in the city — and I’ll see that he’s hanged for it!’
De Wolfe slammed the table-top with his fist. ‘Don’t be so damned foolish, Richard, you’ve not a scrap of proof that he stole anything!’
The pointed beard of the sheriff jutted defiantly out at the coroner. ‘You produced the proof yourself with the claim that the inventory was correct. If the contents were so grandly certified in Cadbury and some was missing by the time it reached Winchester, then only that bloody officer of ours had the opportunity to pilfer it, as the rest of the time it was in my care!’
‘Exactly — and it was in your care a great deal longer!’ retorted John, bitterly.
The sheriff, now feeling quite on top of the situation, sneered back at him. ‘Either you withdraw your claim that the list was accurate, or I’ll have that officer of yours, John. With a body as heavy as his, his neck will stretch delightfully on the gallows!’
De Wolfe knew that the vindictive sheriff would be as good as his word when it came to taking his revenge on Gwyn and cursed himself again for not being more careful. What had been an impending disaster for de Revelle a few moments ago was rapidly turning into a triumph for the devious sheriff.
‘I’ll see you in hell first!’ retorted the coroner, but his tone betrayed his lack of conviction. The word of a servant would be of little avail against that of a knight and county sheriff. Either John had to withdraw his accusation that there had been a shortfall in the amount of treasure or risk Gwyn’s neck. Although Richard might be in real jeopardy if the theft was eventually brought home to him, the delay in toppling him would be of little use if the sheriff’s county court declared Gwyn a felon the following week. But John’s iron sense of justice was totally against this scheming villain getting away with it yet again.
‘Five pairs of eyes counted that money, damn you!’ he shouted across the table. ‘They couldn’t all be blind — and I’ve no doubt that what’s missing is not ten paces from where we stand!’