The steward looked affronted. ‘Of course I have, Crowner! I never get rid of anything until I know it’s not needed. It’s in the constable’s chamber.’
Morin was on his feet now, his granite face beaming with delight and pride at the quality of the man he relied on every day of his life. ‘Take us to it, Samuel! This might be your finest hour!’
De Wolfe checked his impatience with a final word. ‘Wait, we need the original tally from Cadbury to check it against. Thomas should have a copy in that big bag of his. He’s down below now, with Gwyn.’
Morin sent a servant running to fetch the coroner’s clerk and a few moments later, they were all hunched around Samuel’s writing desk in the cluttered room that the constable used for his official duties. An excited Thomas de Peyne fished out a piece of vellum from his hessian shoulder pouch and spread it on the table, alongside another palimpsest that the steward had produced. Although the written words meant nothing to Morin or de Wolfe, they stared down at the documents with mounting anticipation, waiting for the two clerks to pronounce on the result.
Samuel ran his finger down the short column of writing on his parchment, murmuring under his breath, while Thomas did the same with the list from Cadbury. Then they looked at each other and nodded.
‘God’s blood, are you both struck dumb,’ exploded de Wolfe, unable to contain himself any longer.
‘They are the same, Crowner,’ said Thomas exultantly. ‘That which we certified in Cadbury is identical to what Samuel here recorded when the chest was in this chamber!’
The meticulous steward insisted on itemising the contents. ‘Four hundred and eighty-six silver pennies, fifty-two gold bezants and one golden brooch. I remember them well.’
John turned triumphantly to Ralph Morin. ‘We’ve got the whoreson thief! Let him try to wriggle his way out of this! I’ve put up with a great deal from that bastard, for his sister’s sake, but stealing from his own king is beyond any forgiveness.’
He swung around to Samuel and gripped his arm. ‘My own clerk is a treasure himself, but you must be his equal!’
Both scribes flushed with pleasure, the more so because the coroner was known to be a hard man who rarely paid any compliments.
‘What’s to be done now, Crowner?’ gabbled the excited Thomas. ‘Can we go down and get Gwyn out of that verminous place?’
Ralph gave de Wolfe a questioning look. ‘Can we do that or should you confront de Revelle first?’
‘Set him free now,’ answered the coroner impatiently. ‘With this new evidence, there’s no reason whatever that he should be under any suspicion. Richard won’t get away with it this time. But where the hell has he got to?’
The sheriff was in fact, just pulling on his fine wool leggings as he sat inelegantly on the edge of a whore’s mattress. The red-headed strumpet sat with her back propped against the wall of her mean room in Rack Lane, down towards the Watergate, which was convenient for the seafaring customers who came to her from the quay-side. However, still being young enough not yet to have suffered the ravages of her profession, Esther’s good looks had attracted several of the leading citizens to purchase her services, including de Revelle.
Tonight he was here with a double purpose, as although he wanted to slake his lust, which had not been satisfied since he had visited a stew in Winchester, he also wanted to make sure that Esther’s sister had embarked on the mission that he had commanded. Heloise, who lived in this mean room as well and who kept out of the way when her sister was conducting her trade, had been sent to complete the task that she had begun when she visited Nesta at the Bush tavern some time before. She had been carefully coached by Esther, who in turn had been instructed by the sheriff, who wanted to stay anonymous as far as Heloise was concerned. The girls were well paid for their collusion and their avaricious minds were too concerned with the money to ask any questions.
‘She has gone with that tale to the canon, then?’ he asked once again, as he threw down a few pennies on the rumpled and grubby blanket covering the hay palliasse on which they had coupled.
‘I told you three times now, yes!’ snapped the young harlot. ‘I did exactly what you told me and she is there in the Close now, telling that priest that pack of weird lies you wanted.’
She climbed naked out of bed to get dressed and go to the Saracen to seek her next client, as de Revelle pulled on his boots and furtively left the house to return to Rougemont. His lust satisfied for the time being, he felt able to face going to Revelstoke on Thursday to endure a few days with his frigid wife Eleanor, whom he had not seen since before he went to Winchester. As he strode along the high street, loftily deigning to acknowledge the bobbed heads and pulled forelocks of the citizens, his agile mind turned to the close shave he had had with his damned brother-in-law. He cursed the day the previous autumn when Matilda had persuaded him to support de Wolfe’s election to the new coronership in the county court — although realistically, there was no way that John could fail to be nominated, given the virtual order that had come from Hubert Walter, with the personal recommendation from the King himself. Since his brother-in-law had taken office, he had been a constant thorn in his side and twice before, he had uncovered schemes of the sheriff’s which came perilously near to treason. Now he had done it again and the fact that the Chief Justiciar had revived the old Saxon post of coroner partly as a check on the rapacity of all sheriffs, was no comfort to a man who had his sister’s husband breathing down his neck all the time. If the damned fellow had been corruptible, like most public officials, it would not be so bad, thought Richard — but de Wolfe had this abnormal streak of honesty that made him impossible to deal with. Vindictively, he was determined to strike him where it hurt most, and tonight’s scheme was the first blow in this campaign. If he could turn this treasure fiasco into another strike, that would also be satisfying — he knew that John would not risk letting his old retainer Gwyn be hanged, and if he could then somehow expose the coroner’s inevitable retraction of that list of treasure trove as a falsification for personal reasons, maybe he could bring about his disgrace and even his downfall. However, doing so might risk exposing Richard’s own theft and he was pondering some devious way of getting round this problem when his feet delivered him to the castle gatehouse.
Ignoring the salute from the sentry he hurried to the keep, stamped up the stairs and turned into the hall. The first thing that confronted him was a group of men clustered around the nearest table, some standing, others sitting down, but all looking expectantly at him as he entered, for one of the servants had signalled his arrival in the inner bailey. Their attitude was unnerving, and among them he saw John de Wolfe, Ralph Morin, the chaplain Brother Rufus, Sergeant Gabriel, the poisonous little coroner’s clerk and Morin’s steward Samuel. His eye was caught by someone sitting with his back to him, unmistakable from the shock of unruly red hair that sprouted from his massive head.
‘What’s that man doing here?’ he yelled, his anger flaring at the same time as an awareness of imminent disaster. There was something about the way these men were waiting for him which frightened him, but he put on a bold face, relying on his pre-eminence in the county to carry him through. ‘Morin, I ordered that he be locked up! Are you disobeying my direct order?’
It was his brother-in-law who answered him, his dark face glowering across at the sheriff. ‘Do you want to continue this in private or are you content to let all these hear our discussion?’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the score of people in the hall, who were straining their ears to pick up any juicy bits of scandal from the row that was so obviously brewing.
Not deigning to answer, de Revelle wheeled around and walked stiffly to his door, which he unlocked with a key taken from his pouch. Although he made no invitation for them to follow, he left the door wide open and they all trooped in and stood in a half-circle around his table, reminding Gabriel of a pack of hounds holding a deer at bay.