The Boy-Bishop's Glovemaker

Chapter Twenty-Nine

They walked along Paul Street and into Southgate Street, where they found themselves dazzled by the sun shining straight down the road at them. Simon winced and screwed up his eyes, but Baldwin only slapped his back and chuckled.

At the Carfoix they continued a short distance until Baldwin spied a baker’s shop. ‘Let us break our fast.’

‘Isn’t it a little early for food?’ Simon enquired tentatively.

‘Nonsense. And the bread smells wonderful, doesn’t it?’

Simon made no comment, which Baldwin took for acceptance, and the two entered.

The place was already busy, with men and women selecting their loaves from the pile on a table near the unglazed window. At the rear a pair of men wielding long wooden shovels moved loaves about in the large ovens while Mary Skinner stood at a bar and took people’s money. There was no mistaking her, not with her raven-black hair. Simon grinned to himself remembering how she had strained and moaned with her man on the evening of Christmas Day, but then the savoury smells of cooking assailed his nostrils and he staggered to the door.

Baldwin went to the counter and ordered a good thick pasty. Paying his money, he smiled at the woman. ‘Hello, Mary.’

‘Hello,’ she answered suspiciously.

‘I wonder if you could help me and my friend.’

The older of the two bakers whirled around and stood with his shovel resting butt-first on the ground. ‘What sort of girl do you think she is, eh?’

‘I am helping the Coroner with his enquiries into Ralph Glover’s death,’ Baldwin said mildly. ‘Of course if you want to conceal anything, I shall simply tell the Coroner. I have no wish to cause any trouble.’

The man glanced over Baldwin, then Simon, then grudgingly nodded. ‘Go outside with them, Mary, but stay in sight.’

He managed to convey his deep distrust of the strangers in his tone, but Baldwin ignored him, walking outside chewing on his pasty.

From closer, Baldwin could easily see how Mary could have attracted the glover’s apprentice. Slim, with a white complexion, grey, steady eyes, and full, soft lips, she had the grace of a Celt with the calm beauty of a Norman.

‘What do you want from me?’ she asked, resting on a fence-post.

‘We have heard from Elias how he was with you the day Ralph died. We wanted to know whether you had been asked to delay him,’ Baldwin said.

‘ “Delay him”?’ she repeated scornfully. ‘Why should someone want to do that?’

Simon answered testily, ‘So that they could make the poor devil look guilty while someone else murdered his master, girl. Why do you think?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t see it’s any business of mine.’

‘If you weren’t asked to keep him here, it probably isn’t,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘But if you did help a murderer by keeping the poor apprentice here, you would be guilty of conspiracy.’

‘Me? I’ve done nothing.’

‘That may well be true, but if you continue to do nothing, you may be helping Elias to swing. Still, if you’re content to carry the responsibility for his death on your conscience, there is little we can do. Come, Simon. We had better go and explain to the Coroner and Receiver that this woman doesn’t wish to help.’

‘You do that,’ she said, unimpressed. ‘It doesn’t scare me.’

‘The Receiver may be interested in the profits of the bakery,’ Baldwin mused.

‘Well, you tell him how unhelpful I was. We’ll see whether he’s interested in the bakery, won’t we?’ she said and returned into the shop as another customer appeared.

Baldwin remained staring after her with a frown of shock on his features.

‘What is it, Baldwin?’

‘The girl has just answered my problems.’

Simon gazed at him, then back at the shop. ‘I don’t think I quite…’

‘She clearly doesn’t care for Elias, which after her fornicating with another man is no real surprise. That means that when she delayed him, we can be sure that it was so that he would be late, not because she wanted his company.’

‘So we aren’t any further forward.’

‘Of course we are. We know who the killer was.’

Simon’s head snapped round to stare, and once the pain had diminished he gasped, ‘Who?’

‘Simon, think about it. Adam was poisoned before lunch, by someone who was not in the Cathedral. All the Canons, Secondaries and others were in the Cathedral at Mass. So someone from outside the Cathedral was responsible. Adam’s bread had been poisoned. When Peter died, it was because he had eaten something bad – we think his bread. And the bread is made in the morning, then distributed after the dawn Mass. Someone always attends that service. Someone who had a good reason to want Jolinde dead.’

‘I really don’t see who you’re getting at.’

‘Probably not, so follow me,’ Baldwin said confidently.

His path took them along the High Street, but as they passed by the turning which led down to Karvinel’s house they heard a scream. They exchanged a look, then ran together down the lane to the merchant’s house.

Outside, a little boy stood shaking with horror while a young woman tried to comfort him, cradling him in her arms.

‘My master, my master…’ he kept repeating.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, while at her side a foolish looking boy stared at the door, shaking his head and weeping.

Simon and Baldwin followed the boy’s terrified gaze and walked straight in through Karvinel’s door. Nothing in the hall, nothing in the solar downstairs, but from the base of the ladder they could smell the vomit and excrement. Simon curled his lip at the odour and pointedly held the ladder for Baldwin to climb. He was soon back, his face grim and forbidding ‘We must fetch the Coroner.’

‘I’m here,’ Coroner Roger said from the doorway. He clambered up the ladder and while Simon waited below, the two men took in the scene.

‘There’s no need to guess how they died,’ Coroner Roger said.

‘No,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘Both in agony, both contorted, both vomiting and emptying their bowels.’

‘Quite. So both were poisoned, although it looks like Nick beat his wife before they died,’ Roger said thickly. ‘Who did this? And how?’

‘I cannot help but feel guilty for this,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘I should have guessed what was likely to happen as soon as I had spoken to Jolinde. I should have guessed… Especially with what my wife told me last night. I should have guessed.’

Coroner Roger eyed him for a moment without speaking. ‘You think you know who killed these two?’

Baldwin shook his head regretfully. ‘Coroner, I know who murdered Ralph, who murdered Peter, who attempted to poison Adam, and who killed these two as well. I only wish I had been more wise last night. Come. I shall take you to the murderer.’

He turned to the ladder and slowly descended, his heart full of despondency. Like a tapestry, Baldwin knew that an enquiry into a murder would throw up coloured threads which, if arranged correctly, would create a picture that was instantly recognisable. So many of the loose cords had been in his hands the previous night, yet he had not managed to complete the picture until that last comment from the baker’s girl. If only he had not been so tired the night before, these two people might not have died.

Walking with the pensive gait of a doomed man, he left the house of death and went into the road. The young woman was still holding the boy, while near her the idiot boy had covered his face with his hands. Behind them a man leaned against a wall, his face shadowed under an overhang. A small gathering of neighbours stood near to hand, murmuring resentfully among themselves.

‘Where’s the Constable?’ Coroner Roger bellowed. A man shuffled forward apologetically. ‘Guard this door and don’t let anyone in until I return. The Karvinels have been murdered.’

The Constable gaped while the neighbours shook their heads. They would all have to pay a fine for breaking the King’s Peace. Baldwin led the way towards the High Street.

‘I was confused by the number of deaths,’ he told the others. ‘It is so rare that you find a series of killings like this. If I had thought about it, perhaps I would have come upon the truth earlier, but I didn’t. I allowed myself to be half-persuaded that the glovemaker’s death was a mere robbery, a chance theft during which the poor householder died. It is rare to find the murderer in such a case.’

‘True. The randomness of the crime makes it all but insoluble,’ Coroner Roger agreed.

‘Quite so. To be able to discover a murder one needs a reason for a man to kill. One must have a logical, comprehensible motive. So often it is based upon obvious factors.’ He paused, stopping at the side of the street while a cart rumbled past. Continuing on his way, he sighed. ‘Yet in this case we learned that there were several possibilities: the theft of Ralph’s money, the removal of a possible competitor in the race to power in the city, the theft of his stock, possibly the concealment of another crime. And then I was confused by the murder of Peter.’

‘We all were,’ Coroner Roger aid. ‘There was no sense to his death.’

‘No. And that was the point,’ Baldwin said.

The Coroner threw a look at Simon, who smiled at his confused expression and shrugged expansively.

Baldwin continued, ‘Just as it was for the Secondary Adam. Why should another Secondary die? Why should any of them? And then I hit upon the idea that another person was the target for the poison which killed Peter. Now, if someone else had helped, wittingly or unwittingly, to give the poison to Peter, then that person could also be a threat to the poisoner. And so Adam was. He had two jobs in the Cathedral: he made and replenished candles, but he also helped deliver bread in the morning. I think he knows who delivered the bread to Peter.’

‘I begin to understand,’ breathed Coroner Roger.

‘Adam was a specific victim in his own right. A murderer would hardly leave evidence about so clearly without good reason.’

‘Ahm…’ Coroner Roger gave Simon a helpless look.

The Bailiff was not sure either where his friend was leading them. ‘Do you mean that whoever poisoned Adam wanted to leave proof so that someone in that room would be blamed with Adam’s poisoning?’

‘Yes. They probably didn’t care who was blamed so long as someone was.’

The Coroner frowned. ‘How would a killer know which was Adam’s loaf?’

‘Adam and the others in Stephen’s household sit in order of precedence. It would have been easy. And then the bottle of orpiment was left in the room so that anyone could have taken the blame.’

‘And where would the killer have found the bottle?’ the Coroner asked.

‘Ah, the poison would have been bought from an alchemist. The bottle left in Stephen’s room was yellow arsenic, but I doubt that was what poisoned Adam. Yellow arsenic is bright and obvious and anyone would have seen it on – or in – a loaf of bread. Any thief could have walked into the Choristers’ hall during the mid-day service to take the little bottle. All the members of the choir would be in the church, so it would be perfectly safe. And I believe that arsenic must be treated to make it especially poisonous. The killer still has the genuine bottle of poison, I expect.’

‘So you don’t think that Peter was killed because of his clerking for Karvinel?’ Simon asked.

‘No. I think that Jolinde was supposed to have died. And then Adam was supposed to die because he knew the killer.’

‘What of the Karvinels?’ Simon asked.

‘Who would benefit from Karvinel’s death?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Vincent le Berwe!’ the Coroner replied.

‘Exactly. Just as Vincent would lose his key enemy by the death of Ralph.’

‘There are some others,’ Coroner Roger observed.

Baldwin gave a fleeting smile. ‘Very well. But Karvinel and le Berwe were the two leading contenders in the city, I think you will agree?’

‘Oh, certainly, but there will always be contenders in any city. That doesn’t mean that one or other will murder his opponent.’

‘No, of course not,’ Baldwin agreed.

He had clasped his hands behind his back and Simon could see that he was deeply moved or concerned, although Simon was not sure why. The Bailiff was about to clear his throat and break in upon Baldwin’s thoughts when another interruption caused all three to halt.

Jen of Whyteslegh was petrified. She was convinced that she would soon be dead of terror. These three men were among the most powerful and important she had ever seen, let alone spoken to. Such folk hadn’t come near her village when she was at home with her parents. There was a worm of fear squirming in her belly as she hastened her steps towards the rearmost man and tugged at his tunic.

Instantly Simon whirled to face her. The sudden action made her stop and put a hand to her mouth as she saw him reach for his sword, but when he saw it was a young woman, Simon stayed his hand and smiled reassuringly.

‘You were comforting the child outside the house, weren’t you?’ he said. His head still ached appallingly, but he felt guilty at scaring the girl and he was determined to put her at her ease.

‘Yes, sir,’ she squeaked.

‘Did you want to speak to me?’

‘Sir, I have been told to ask, would you speak for an approver if he can deliver you a murderer?’

Baldwin and the Coroner had stopped a short distance further up the road and they watched Simon as he tried to make sense of her words. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I have a friend, sir. He has been involved in crimes, but he wants to ask for a pardon. Would you speak for him if he will give you evidence to convict another felon?’

Simon glanced back the way they had come. This early in the morning Exeter’s High Street was a bustling mess of humanity, with buskers and hawkers calling out their wares, girls threading their way through the crowd, boys darting hither and thither to offer their services to hold a horse’s reins for a period. Somewhere in the seething mass, Simon felt sure that he could feel a man’s close inspection. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If your friend can help us to stop these murders, I’ll speak for him. Let me speak to the Coroner.’

He beckoned and Baldwin and Coroner Roger rejoined him. Roger was unconvinced. ‘Why should I allow him to surrender?’ he demanded of Jen.

‘He has been blamed for crimes he didn’t commit – he wants to stop running and hiding all his life. Please, sir, please. Let him give himself up.’

The big man puffed out his cheeks. ‘Very well, but if the fellow he accuses demands trial by combat, I can’t do anything to protect him.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to, Coroner,’ said Sir Thomas from behind him. ‘But Vincent le Berwe paid me to destroy Nicholas Karvinel. That makes him a felon. I think he murdered Karvinel and his wife, Juliana, too.’

‘I am afraid I think that there you are wrong,’ Baldwin interrupted, ‘but I wish to arrest the murderer. Coroner, may we continue?’

‘By all means.’

‘Are you going to Vincent le Berwe’s house?’ Sir Thomas asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Good. In that case I can tell you of all his crimes on the way there. Come – I do not want him to escape. He killed Karvinel and he has stolen my revenge from me. I wanted Karvinel to die for my friend, but now he is already murdered!’