But the little devil was gone now. And Wally was dead. Well, Augerus sighed, Wally was unreliable, had been for a while. In a way, it was a good thing he was gone.
Augerus was out in the court now, and was about to make for Mark’s room when he saw Joce standing red-faced outside, gesticulating with a kind of restrained fury.
He groaned inwardly. He could still feel the pressure of Joce’s hand on his throat. It was only then that the realisation hit him: Joce was supposed to be on his way to Exeter with a sackload of pewter.
‘God’s Blood! What the hell are you doing here still?’ he whispered as soon as they had slipped down an alley.
‘You bastard! You set him up to do it, didn’t you?’ Joce grated, pulling the monk towards him by his habit.
‘Get off me, you cretin! Who – and to do what?’
Suddenly Augerus heard a rasp of metal and felt a point at his belly. ‘What the…’
‘Where is it? Come on – tell me! Wally didn’t have it. Gerard didn’t run away with it, did he? Have you got it?’
Joce had spent an angry, bitter night. Tossing and turning, wondering where his plate was, where his servant was, he was wild-eyed and more than a little mad-looking. It was a miracle he hadn’t exploded from anger. The shits, the devious, lying, thieving bastards, whoever they were, had taken all his money. That was what the metal meant to him: money! He needed it to conceal the amount he had stolen from the town’s accounts over the last year, and it was gone. It made him want to spit with fury, or stab and slash and kill everyone who might have taken it.
‘Where is it?’ he demanded again through gritted teeth.
‘How do you know Wally and Gerard haven’t—’
‘If Wally had it, it’d be back here in the abbey by now, wouldn’t it? And a boy running away carrying a large sack of pewter? He wouldn’t get far, would he? No, I think someone else must have it. And if you don’t squeak soon, you’ll be squeaking all the louder!’
Augerus could feel that terrible point screwing one way and another, gradually grinding forwards through his habit. ‘Stop! I don’t even know what pewter you mean.’
‘Everything from my cupboard. It’s all gone.’
‘But…’ Augerus gaped. The sudden movement at his gut made him gabble quickly. ‘Look, I don’t have it. I couldn’t break into your room if I wanted to! Only Gerard could have done that. Your hall is locked, isn’t it? Who else could get in?’
‘Where has he put it, then?’
‘How should I know? Maybe he had an accomplice, who hid it himself?’
Joce gasped angrily. ‘Bloody Art!’
‘What?’
‘My servant. He hasn’t come home. It must have been him stole my stuff. Thieving shit! When I find him, I’ll make him eat his own tarse! I’ll hamstring him and make him crawl, the bastard! I’ll cut out his liver and eat it! I’ll—’
‘Where is he?’
‘What?’
‘This Art – where is he? If he has the pewter, he can’t have gone far, can he?’
Joce felt as though a cloud had passed and suddenly the sun was shining full on him. ‘Of course – I know where the bastard will be! Come on!’
‘I can’t. I must be ready to serve the abbot his midday meal.’
‘He can wait.’
‘You can kill me now, if you want. That will alert people to your guilt. Or you can force me to come with you, I suppose, but how would I explain my absence to the abbot? If I am caught, I…’ Augerus thought about threatening Joce, but the point of the knife was too noticeable. ‘…I cannot help you again, can I? It’s better that I stay inside the abbey and you go to find this fellow.’
Joce held his gaze for a moment. ‘Very well, but don’t forget: if I am caught, you will die too.’ He suddenly pulled the knife away and thrust it into the wood of a beam at the side of Augerus’ head, the edge nicking his ear.
‘If they catch me, Augie, I’ll get you first. So help me, you’ll feel this blade in your guts.’
Peter was unhappy to have been summoned to the abbot’s room again, but he was more concerned when he saw that Sir Baldwin and Simon were both there, the coroner too.
The abbot waved the monk to a seat and began speaking before Peter was sitting.
‘When I spoke to you on Monday, you hinted that you had a good idea who might have been behind the theft of the pewterer’s plates.’
‘That is true, my Lord Abbot,’ Peter said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon the abbot himself and refusing to glance sideways at the other men.
‘How did you learn about the other small theft?’
‘I have heard mutterings from other guests, my Lord. Sometimes they have mentioned the loss of items to Ned the Horse, other times I have simply overheard them talking.’
‘In terms which would embarrass the abbey?’ the abbot shot out.
‘Never. If they had, I would have mentioned it to you, my Lord. I could do nothing that would harm you or the abbey.’
‘Then what did they say?’
‘Simply that the innkeeper in the last town had managed to take their stuff, or that they must have been careless in packing and left something by mistake. Never that they thought the abbey could be responsible. Until the pewterer.’
‘He noticed.’
‘Yes, because he had personally set the items beneath his bed the night before. He knew that they had been stolen from him.’
‘Why should you think you knew who had been responsible?’
‘Because, as you know, I can rarely sleep a full night. I waken, and cannot return to slumber. Rather than sit in my cot and listen to others snoring, I get up and walk about the court in prayer, or rest before the altar and pray.’
‘So you are often up and about when all others are asleep?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you have seen the thief?’
‘I did say that I
