Prior Alexander and Richer nodded in agreement.
‘As you are about the purveyance given every Sunday to the Upright Men. They take the lord’s share of the Marybread and Marymeat, yes?’
Prior Alexander nodded his agreement. Cranston turned back to the abbot. ‘So why have the money payments stopped?’
Prior Alexander’s mouth opened and shut in surprise. Abbot Walter squirmed in his chair.
‘Father Abbot,’ Prior Alexander demanded. ‘I have seen the accounts. The money was given to you to pass on.’
The abbot sighed noisily.
‘Well,’ Cranston asked, ‘how do you pay?’
‘On Sundays, don’t you?’ Athelstan intervened. ‘Or you used to, at the distribution of purveyance before the main gate as well as on the quayside.’
‘Why have you suspended payments?’ Prior Alexander’s anger boiled over. ‘Where is that money? Your beloved niece?’
‘What I do,’ Abbot Walter pulled himself up, ‘is my business.’
‘When this abbey is burning about our ears it will be ours,’ Prior Alexander snapped.
‘How dare you!’ The abbot turned in his chair. ‘How dare you,’ he repeated, ‘accuse me.’ He darted a look at Sub-Prior Richer. ‘Put your own house in order first.’
Leda the swan, nestling in her comfortable bed rose, neck out, wings ruffling. A beautiful sight, Athelstan thought, except for that malevolent hissing. Prior Alexander sat tense, his face full of fury. Abbot Walter turned away, murmuring softly to the swan.
‘And you, Brother Richer.’ Athelstan asked, ‘We have reports of you meeting boatmen from foreign ships?’
‘So?’ The Frenchman shrugged. ‘I send letters and presents to my family, my brethren, my kinsmen in France.’
‘Including those at St Calliste?’
‘Including those.’
‘And Father Abbot approves of this?’
‘Of course I do,’ Lord Abbot interjected, eager to keep Richer’s support. ‘We communicate rarely with our brothers in France. Brother Richer, however, has close ties to his home community. He has every right to do what he has.’
‘Why are you here?’ Athelstan insisted. ‘Why, Richer, have you come to this cold, lonely place?’
‘I’ve told you. I am a skilled clerk, a copyist, a calligrapher. St Fulcher’s library is famous. .’
‘I need to question you on that,’ Athelstan interjected, ‘but not now. These boatmen from foreign ships? How do you arrange the exact time and place to meet?’
‘I often go into the city.’ The usually urbane Richer was now flustered.
‘As you did on the eve of St Damasus during your visit to Sir Robert? You and Prior Alexander visited the Queenshithe or elsewhere. You made the arrangements then?’
‘Yes, yes, Prior Alexander is very understanding.’
‘I am sure he is. Your visit with Kilverby. .?’
‘We’ve explained that.’ Prior Alexander spoke up. ‘It was a courtesy visit. Sir Robert was not coming to St Fulcher’s. There was the business of Crispin being given lodgings here and other minor items.’
‘Such as?’
‘Sir Robert was a most generous benefactor,’ Lord Walter intervened. ‘His donations for Masses to be sung helped us build the new hog pen on our farm as well as re-gild some of our sacred vessels. We wanted to assure him that such gifts were both appreciated and well spent.’ The reply was rather rushed and from Prior Alexander’s face Athelstan concluded that a great deal of such gold and silver revenue stuck to the abbot’s greedy fingers. Little wonder Lord Walter’s beloved niece and sister lived so high on the hog! Athelstan recalled Isabella’s chatter at their recent meeting; he was sure she’d let slip that she had come of age. Was Abbot Walter preparing a generous dowry for his beloved kinswoman?
‘Tell me.’ Athelstan glanced around. ‘Let us establish the times and seasons of all that has happened here.’
‘In what way?’
‘The Wyvern Company arrived here when?’
‘Four years last summer.’
‘And you, Richer?’
‘I have been here just under three years.’
‘And the first fatality amongst the Wyvern Company was William Chalk?’
‘That was not murder,’ Prior Alexander answered flatly. ‘I examined him and so did local physicians. Master Chalk had growths in his belly and groin — I’ve told you this.’
‘When did he fall ill?’
‘About eighteen months ago.’
‘And who gave him ghostly comfort?’
‘I tended to him first,’ Prior Alexander retorted. ‘Brother Richer later on.’
‘Did you shrive him?’
‘Of course,’ Richer snapped. ‘I also gave him the last rites but,’ the Frenchman glared at Athelstan, ‘Chalk turned to God. You’ve been through his chamber. You must have seen his prayers scrawled on scraps of parchments pleading for mercy. You’re a priest. You know, under pain of excommunication, Brother Athelstan, no priest can break the seal of confession.’
‘He must have talked outside the seal.’
‘Everything is covered by the seal.’
‘You hate the Wyvern Company?’
‘You know I do. They are thieves, blasphemers, killers and the perpetrators of sacrilege.’
‘So Chalk did not abuse you of that.’
‘What passed between us, Brother, is protected by the seal.’
‘Where do you think the Passio Christi truly belongs?’
‘St Calliste.’
‘Is your uncle still abbot there?’
Richer smiled. ‘Yes, he enjoys robust health, thank God.’
‘And Kilverby,’ Athelstan continued, ‘he brought the Passio Christi here at the appointed time for the Wyvern Company to view?’
‘He used to,’ Prior Alexander declared. ‘We’ve told you that.’
‘And his relationship with the Wyverns was cordial? After all, he did finance them during the war with France.’
‘From what we know,’ Lord Walter intervened, ‘Kilverby was always distant and aloof but he was amicable enough towards the Wyverns.’
‘And this changed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Sir Robert began to reflect most carefully about them. He changed his opinion of those he once patronized.’
‘Encouraged by you, Brother Richer?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know precisely. Did you advise Sir Robert?’
‘Of course I did. He was a man much burdened with sin,’ the Frenchman replied. ‘I shrived him. I gave him ghostly advice.’
‘Did he tell you his true opinion of the Wyvern Company?’
‘He grew to dislike them intensely. He claimed he’d always believed their story about the Passio Christi but he came to the conclusion that they hadn’t found it but stolen it.’
