He decided to take it to his friend Dom Jehannes, Archdeacon of York. There were few men Owen trusted so completely. Closing up the hole, he moved the bed back into place, then tucked the heavy bag into his padded jacket. His cloak would disguise the extra bulk.
‘You are clanking,’ Brother Michaelo noted as Owen stomped his boots on the stone outside Jehannes’s door.
‘So I am. I thought you would be resting.’
‘I have.’
‘Hardly enough to make up for missing a night’s sleep.’ Owen settled on the bench inside the door to remove his boots.
‘Sufficient for the moment. I wished to write up all that I heard this morning before I confuse details with what I hear out in the city. Three deaths in one night. The story will be unrecognizable to us by evening.’
Jehannes hurried out of his parlor to greet Owen, calling to his cook for wine. ‘Or will you break bread with me? I’ve not yet broken my fast.’
‘Some bread and cheese would be welcome,’ said Owen. ‘But first …’ He opened his jacket and pulled out the treasure, taking it to a small table near the fire where he opened it, revealing the marvels within.
‘By the rood, what is this?’ asked Jehannes.
‘Ronan’s hoard,’ said Owen.
Jehannes looked up at Owen. ‘A vicar choral?’
‘Might I trouble you to safeguard this until Archbishop Neville arrives?’
‘He stole this from the archbishop?’
‘Perhaps.’
Michaelo coughed. Both men turned to him. ‘If I might suggest the hiding place beneath the buttery. Access is through a loose stone in the floor that I did not notice until I encountered Cook opening it.’
Jehannes’s moon-shaped face lit up with gratitude. ‘The very place. Yes, yes, of course you might entrust it to us.’ A nod. ‘Is it not a blessing Brother Michaelo did not choose to return to Normandy?’
‘Unexpected talents,’ Owen murmured.
The archdeacon was moving toward the kitchen when he halted, turning back with a pained expression. ‘You are certain this hoard belongs to Alexander Neville?’
‘At present I believe so. When I unravel the knot of last night’s murders I might revise that theory. And I will take full responsibility for it. You need not engage with him on the matter.’
‘Good.’ With a nod, Jehannes continued on to the kitchen to order breakfast.
Michaelo had been fingering the items in the hoard. Straightening, he brushed off his hands as if to rid himself of temptation. ‘He dreads the arrival of the new archbishop.’
‘As do we all.’
‘We might have had a man of noble character.’
‘Ravenser?’ Thoresby’s nephew had promised to keep Michaelo as his secretary should he win the seat. But the Nevilles had prevailed.
‘He above all, but there were others who would have been far more appropriate to the second highest ecclesiastical seat in England.’
Easing himself down onto a settle near the fire, Owen rested his head against the back and closed his eye. ‘What might have been is not a game I care to play. I am far too busy with what was, and is.’
‘To that end, I will leave you and complete my account of your investigations.’
‘Our investigations, Michaelo. Did you speak with Edwin?’
‘Not yet.’
‘I count on it.’
‘You are determined to dominate my hours,’ Michaelo said, his words a complaint but his tone more of someone deeply satisfied.
SEVEN
A Deepening Mystery
‘Ronan was calling in pledges for His Grace the archbishop? Or debts?’ Master Thomas turned to gaze out the window of his parlor. A bird pecked at the bright berries on a holly bush. ‘I had heard nothing of this.’ Though the chancellor’s posture hinted otherwise.
Owen pursued it. ‘If you were to surmise about the manner of such loans or donations, what might they be? What favors might His Grace offer to extend to citizens of York? Or what cause? Building project?’
Master Thomas glanced at Michaelo, who was making notes of the conversation. ‘Is his scratching necessary?’
Michaelo knew many of the clerics and their clerks, so his insight might prove useful. To have him taking notes suggested he was merely assisting, not listening closely. ‘I can more fully listen to you when I do not need to worry about remembering everything. We were speaking of the type of pledges Alexander Neville might have received in the city.’
‘Do you mean as a prebend? Before his enthronement?’ Thomas shook his head. ‘I cannot think what it might be. He was rarely here. You might ask his secretary. Or the clerk Edwin. Are you certain this Beck is to be trusted?’
‘I doubt that he is. But Crispin Poole spoke to Ronan about this collection, so I am not depending solely on Beck’s charge.’
A sigh. ‘There is the matter of the Italian archdeacons. However, I should think it would be my fellows in the chapter who cared about that, not the lay citizens of York.’
‘Not necessarily. I should like to hear what you are thinking, what he might offer.’
Thomas continued to present his back to Owen. Perhaps he meant to imply that this questioning was beneath him. He might not realize it as a behavior often used by the guilty. In either case, and whether or not he was guilty of more than pride, the chancellor interested Owen more and more. Now he glanced back with a cold look. ‘Except for your friend Dom Jehannes, the current archdeacons under the archbishop of York are all Italian clerics.’ He returned his gaze to the winter garden. ‘Absentee heads of their jurisdictions, they are leeches draining the resources of the diocese. With his connections in the papal court, Neville was the obvious solution, the man who might argue at the papal court for more appropriate archdeacons. But Neville, too, was seldom here, so I had thought the idea abandoned. Perhaps someone pursued this.’
‘That is helpful. Thank you. Can you suggest any reason why laymen might care about the Italian archdeacons?’
‘Not the
