the place was as busy as a beehive. I kept walking in and out of the gate. No one ever noticed me. Then the shutters opened up. I heard my name being called. Hersham told me that, when the yard became deserted, I was to whistle. I waited a while and, when the opportunity presented itself, Hersham cut through the shutters. He climbed on to the stonework, pushed the shutters close and dropped into the yard. He was almost dancing with glee. Only later did he tell me what had happened.’
Margoyle took another sip from the wine cup.
‘Apparently Hersham, and he was as mad as a March hare, had stayed near the door and slipped up the stairs. He had a wineskin with him containing an opiate. The whore opened the door. I don’t think she knew why she was there; she only acted out the instructions Hersham had given her. She must have thought it was some sort of game. Hersham gave her the wineskin, she fell asleep on the bed.’ Margoyle put the goblet down and crossed his arms over his chest. I didn’t know what to do when Hersham told me that he had taken a rope and hanged the poor wench. He said that no one would ever find out while Maltravers, who had been tricked to come to the tavern, would take the blame.’ He glanced fearfully at Athelstan. ‘Brother, I swear I had no part in it.’
Athelstan studied the muddy-brown eyes and accepted that he was telling the truth. Margoyle’s gaze shifted to the knight now sitting at the table.
‘He hated you,’ he said. ‘Not just because of the Lady Angelica but because you were everything he wanted to be!’
‘And this mummery in the cemetery?’ Sir John asked.
‘That I am involved in,’ Margoyle confessed slowly. ‘The Great Community of the Realm, Sir John, is now well rooted in London. It has members among the Corporation, the aldermen, the merchants and the guilds. They make threats, unless these powerful men,’ Margoyle stumbled on the phrase, ‘assist and co-operate, they, their houses, their trade, their families, are all marked down for destruction. Now, or when the Great Community’s army marches on London.’
Sir John tapped the table. ‘Of course!’ He drove his fist into one hand.
‘Of course what, Sir John?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Nothing much. It’s just that there’s been the occasional fire in a warehouse, stores being broken into, property smashed. The Guild-hall thinks it’s the work of night-walkers, footpads, but you, my little popinjay, say it could be the work of the Great Community?’
Margoyle nodded fearfully.
‘Do continue, Master Clement. You sing like a linnet. What other little secrets do you hold? Are you a member of the Great Community?’
Margoyle lowered his head and muttered, ‘Yes, Sir John, both me and Hersham. We were given the names of Valerian and Domitian. We were promised that, in the new commonwealth, we would hold high office.’
Sir John burst out laughing. ‘When Adam delved and Eve span,’ he taunted. ‘Who was then the gentleman? So one set of laws are going to be replaced by another, are they?’
Margoyle nodded.
‘Do sing on.’
‘The Great Community recently held a council at St Albans. They believe their army will march within twelve months but they need to seize London Bridge. The men have bows but no arrows. If these were made in the city, Gaunt — I mean, His Grace the Regent,’ Margoyle added hastily, ‘would soon discover it.’
‘And his guards at the city gates,’ Athelstan observed, ‘would hardly let cart-loads of arrows go trundling through.’
‘The arrows were made by peasants,’ Margoyle continued. ‘In south Essex and Hertfordshire. They were then brought to an agreed assembly point and distributed. They were to be brought into Southwark. Valerian and I were to find a place as close as possible to London Bridge, and St Erconwald’s was chosen.’
‘Why?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Because it is a poor parish, Brother. None of the great ones live here.’ Margoyle’s eyes fell away. They say you are a good priest. Busy about the care of souls. Many in the council of the Great Community believe you are sympathetic’
‘I am not,’ Athelstan said. ‘And I object to men like you drawing simpletons like Watkin and Pike into your deadly game!’
‘We were given their names,’ Margoyle continued. ‘We met them by night and told them what to do. They were to dig a trench and pretend to be examining the foundations of the cemetery wall. We put the arrows in, covered them with a layer of earth.’ He shrugged. ‘The rest you know.’
‘But you are missing one important fact,’ Athelstan insisted. ‘Arrows cost money. Wood has to be bought. Sacks and carts provided. Arrow heads fashioned. Glue, not to mention goose feathers.’
‘Sir Thomas provided that. Hersham was given bags of silver. Sir Thomas keeps a private account.’
‘So he’s a traitor?’ Athelstan interrupted.
‘He had little choice.’ A note of defiance crept into Margoyle’s voice.
‘What do you mean?’
The man’s eyes moved to Sir Maurice.
‘Do you think the Lady Angelica was moved to the nuns of Syon just because of Maltravers?’
Sir John clapped his thigh. ‘Of course! We thought she was there to protect her from Sir Lancelot here; but she had been marked down by the Great Community of the Realm, hadn’t she?’
Margoyle nodded. ‘I’ve told you the truth, Sir John.’
The coroner lumbered to his feet. ‘Brother Athelstan, your church is locked and secure, yes?’
‘Of course, Sir John!’
‘And the windows are too narrow for anyone to crawl out?’
‘Of course, my lord coroner.’ Athelstan smiled as he caught the drift of the questions.
The coroner went over to Athelstan’s writing-desk where he picked up two quills, an inkpot and a large square of rubbed parchment. He then went across and pulled Margoyle up by the scruff of his neck.
‘Brother Athelstan,’ Sir John said, beaming. ‘Do open the door of your church. Master Margoyle is going into the sanctuary to sit at the small table there and write out his confession. When he has finished, if I am satisfied, I am going to let him run away. On one condition.’ He turned the hapless Margoyle round to face him. ‘If I ever catch you in London again, I’ll hang you out of hand!’
‘He’ll implicate Parr,’ Athelstan warned. ‘Gaunt will have Sir Thomas’ head.’
‘No he won’t. He’ll write what I tell him to.’
‘But the bailiffs?’
‘Men like Sir Thomas are not easily impressed. Hersham’s dead, Margoyle here won’t mention the name Parr and Sir Thomas will simply say he had nothing to do with this villainy.’ Sir John winked. ‘But, he’ll know that we know and that, my dear friar, is very important!’
CHAPTER 16
The following morning the parish was in uproar. News of what had happened in the cemetery had swept through the alleyways leading down to the Thames. St Erconwald’s was truly packed, not just for the Guild Mass for the Rat-Catchers, but also by those eager to listen to the chatter and the gossip. Watkin and Pike looked woebegone. They stood on the sanctuary steps shuffling their feet. Athelstan, vesting in the sacristy, closed his eyes and quietly thanked God that things had gone well. Sir John had worked like a true soldier: the arrows had been removed, loaded on to carts and taken across London Bridge. Watkin and Pike had slunk away in the darkness while Margoyle had written a full confession, surrendered his arms and fled like a shadow in the night. Sir Maurice was beside himself. Godbless had danced like an elf shouting: ‘I told you so! I told you I saw shapes in the cemetery!’
It had been long after midnight before Athelstan had quietened things down and snatched a few hours’ sleep.
‘Ah well,’ he said, crossed himself and went into the sanctuary.
The Mass was a great success. The rat-catchers with their ferrets, cats, small dogs, cages, traps, mallets
