‘Me?’ Nob squeaked. ‘I’ve done nothing!’
‘But you allowed a felon into your home. Someone stole pewter from the abbey and passed it out to Wally, and Wally hid it. Now we have more stolen pewter, and it’s in a sack – one of these ones you keep your coals in.’
Nob dropped with a thump on to one of the stools. ‘Oh God, no, not Wally,’ he said. ‘Oh, my God! You mean things have been stolen from the abbey and stored here? My heavens! That is terrible.’
‘Did you know anything about this, Nob?’ Simon asked keenly. He moved to the cook’s side and stood over him threateningly.
‘No, of course not. What do you take me for, eh?’
‘Is there anywhere here Wally could have hidden a sack this size?’ Coroner Roger pressed him.
‘Where else would he have taken stolen things?’ Baldwin demanded of the anxious Nob. ‘There can’t have been too many people whom he would have visited.’
‘I never saw him carry a sack, sir. Never. Sometimes he had his small bag, but never one of those sacks.’
Simon gasped with understanding. ‘Baldwin, the sack we got must have been a whole collection. Wally had an accomplice outside the abbey, and when he had collected enough, he filled his sack and sold it.’
‘But the Swiss told us that he found Wally jumping from Joce’s window. Shit! I don’t understand what this is all about! Wally knew Blakemoor,’ Coroner Roger’s belly grumbled; he wanted to reach into the cook’s shop and take a pie.
‘Suppose so. Blakemoor’s the receiver. We all know him,’ Nob said.
Simon asked, ‘What did Walwynus say about him? We’ve heard that they were close, that they might have been comrades.’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ Nob said thoughtfully, ‘but something changed on the day of the coining.’
Simon peered at him. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘He came in here partway through the day, bought a pie, but he was very quiet. Not himself. Swore about Joce for some reason, but wouldn’t explain why. Then he ran out as soon as he saw some young monk.’
‘A novice?’ Baldwin asked.
‘That’s right,’ Nob said more slowly.
‘Do you know his name?’
‘Oh, er, he was just a lad, you know. The red-haired one.’
Simon shot Baldwin a look. ‘Gerard has red hair.’
‘So now we have a connection between Wally and Gerard, and between Wally and Joce,’ Baldwin said. ‘And we know that they robbed Joce. I’d think that was a good enough motive for him to murder Wally, if he learned Wally was involved.’
‘If – yes.’ Simon was frowning. ‘But why should Wally go and steal that pewter from Joce?’
‘Because as this estimable cook has told us, Joce and Wally fell out. Wally came here and took back all the pewter at a time when he knew the receiver would be held up at the coining.’
‘Why should they fall out?’ Simon wondered. ‘That’s what I want to know.’ Something was nagging at his mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
‘Well, we’d best track down Joce, then,’ said Coroner Roger impatiently. ‘He’s the man who needs to answer questions now.’
‘In a moment,’ Simon said. He was studying Nob with a certain intensity. ‘What of Hamelin? You told us he had come into some money, which he brought here for his wife. Do you still believe he sold an old debt? It sounds odd, if Wally knew he couldn’t recover that debt.’
‘You need to ask Emma about that.’
‘Where is she?’
‘At Hamelin’s place.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Joce pushed Gerard along in front of him, the knife in his hand pricking the lad whenever he slowed. He shoved him through brambles and gorse, on and on, until Joce felt sure that they were safe from immediate discovery.
They were up the hill which led to the moors. From here, Joce could look back and see the smoke rising from the fires of Tavistock, and the abbey itself. The road along the eastern riverbank was hidden by the lie of the hillside, but that was little concern, he thought, panting after the exertion.
Gerard’s hands were bound with Joce’s belt, and Joce had firm hold of it. Now he jerked on it viciously, and kicked Gerard’s shin, knocking the boy to the ground.
‘Don’t kill me!’
Gerard sobbed, petrified with fear. It felt as though he had escaped one danger only to fall into a still worse one. When he had felt that awful knife at his throat, he had thought that he was going to die. It struck him as ironic that, having escaped the clutches of Reginald and the abbot, he should have fallen among cut-throats and felons who wanted to kill him for the little money he had in his scrip. And then he had been startled as he recognised the voice: Joce!
He knew Joce, of course. Everyone did. The receiver was recognised by everyone in the town because he was so powerful. He was responsible for all the money paid in tolls and fines, for justice and the smooth running of Tavistock. No one could live in the area without knowing Joce.
But Gerard knew more about him, because Gerard knew Art, his servant. Art regularly cursed his master. All masters would beat their staff on occasion, of course, but according to Art, Joce took a profound pleasure in beating his charge that went beyond all the bounds of propriety. And even in the abbey, there were whispers about the recent heated argument between Joce and his neighbour over the midden heap.
If he were free of Joce, he could have giggled to recall that. The pile which had so incensed Joce had in fact been carefully put there by Wally and himself, making a decent pile of rubbish on which Gerard could climb to gain entry. Once he was inside, he went downstairs and let Wally in as well, and then the two searched out the pewter which had been stolen.
When
