A Spy For The Redeemer

EPILOGUE

‘Such a coarse, common woman,’ Brother Michaelo was saying, ‘why folk paid heed to her imaginings I cannot think.’

John Thoresby smiled to hear of Alice Baker’s humbling. ‘She has deserved the brand of scold for many a year, I have no doubt. I am glad of the alewife’s action.’

‘Which reminds me, we must order a barrel of her husband’s fine ale. The duke’s men consumed the last of what we had.’

A servant knocked, peered round the door. ‘Your Grace, Master Gisburne has arrived.’

Ah. Thoresby had invited John Gisburne to the palace, luring him with its planned refurbishment.

Michaelo smiled. ‘I have my pen and paper ready.’

He was to walk behind them, making note of those items Gisburne agreed to procure.

‘Then let us proceed.’ Thoresby drained his cup and rose, shaking out the wrinkles in his formal robes. The city grew unpleasant, too humid for his tastes. He would leave for Bishopthorpe in the morning.

Gisburne bowed low, sweeping a bejewelled hand to his heart, then kissed Thoresby’s ring. He smelled of lavender and roses. What a fussy man. But better than smelling of sweat.

The three strolled through the palace, Gisburne keeping up a steady commentary — what was needed, how he might acquire it for the archbishop, Michaelo making notes. Thoresby had known the man was a merchant in the broadest sense, with his hand in many commodities. But he had not been aware of quite how far Gisburne cast his net. Still, Thoresby recognised the nervous chatter of someone hoping to control the conversation.

When they had completed the tour, Thoresby invited Gisburne into the hall for some wine. Michaelo withdrew.

‘My purpose in inviting you was not only business. Or rather, not merely the matter of refurbishing this palace,’ Thoresby began. ‘I have learned of your father’s partnership with Douglas Sutton.’ He drew the long-lost letter from beneath a pile of documents on the table beside him, enjoyed watching dread sour his guest’s expression.

Gisburne said nothing, though his jaw had dropped.

‘I understand you were most accommodating to the thief Harold Galfrey.’

‘Of what are you accusing me?’ Gisburne asked.

‘It is said you would be mayor. You, who could not hold on to the office of bailiff. Alderman Bolton’s support is what you hoped to buy, is it not?’

Gisburne suddenly grabbed for the parchment.

Thoresby moved it out of his reach. This was more like it. ‘From whom did you learn of the letter? Your mother?’

Gisburne glowered. ‘I admit nothing.’

‘Many men wrote such letters at the time. Even churchmen. Abbots. But people have forgotten that. One of these days you will be caught in your web of deceit, Gisburne.’ Thoresby stared at the merchant a good, long while. ‘But for now, you are a wealthy man with a great sin on your conscience. And I am an old one, with a tomb to build. This is the matter I wish to discuss. If you are generous enough, I might even see my way to allowing you to present Bolton with the letter.’ He smiled as a medley of emotions flickered across the merchant’s face. He had him where he wanted him.