Bloodstone(56)

‘Not now,’ Athelstan whispered, ‘let us not alarm our little flock.’

They called back Tab, Huddle and the rest, shepherding them into the chantry chapel with the help of two burly brothers whom Prior Alexander had sent to assist as well as to guide Athelstan’s visitors around the wonders of the abbey. Athelstan took his seat in the priest’s chair and, with Cranston standing guard at the doorway, the friar delivered a short speech of welcome, then asked how matters stood? Within a few heartbeats he sincerely wished he hadn’t. Imelda, Pike’s wife, loudly demanded that only members of the parish attend the midnight Mass at Christmas. Cecily the courtesan, who usually brought her own group of Magdalenas to the Mass, was the object of Imelda’s spite. Cecily, however, ogling one of the brothers, simply stuck her tongue out and returned to stare dewy-eyed at the bemused monk. Athelstan put the matter to a vote and Imelda’s demand was promptly rejected. The friar swiftly moved on to other matters such as washing the baptismal font, the supply of altar wine and bedecking the church with more holly and ivy. Other items of business were raised. Some were voted on; others would have to wait. Mauger the bell clerk, squatting with his chancery tray across his lap, swiftly recorded the items of business; these would be later copied up into the parish ledger. Ursula the pig woman, who had spent her time in a constant mutter, now began to protest at not being able to bring her sow. Pernel the Fleming, threading her red and green hair, loudly hummed a favourite hymn. Meanwhile, Ranulf’s ferrets had caught the slither and squeal of vermin and were jumping like fury in their cage. Athelstan decided it was time to finish. He rose, exhorted his little flock to be good and handed them over to the waiting brothers for the promised tour of the abbey.

Once they’d all left singing the praises of Prior Alexander and rubbing their bellies in anticipation of a good meal, Athelstan and Cranston adjourned to the friar’s chamber in the abbot’s guest house. A servitor brought them bread, cheese, a small pot of delicious preserve and tankards of the abbey’s own ale. Athelstan did not wish to eat but washed himself at the lavarium. Once Cranston had broken his fast, the friar tersely informed him about everything that had happened since the coroner had left. Cranston, eyes half closed, heard him out and after Athelstan had finished, reported all he had learnt in the city.

‘We need to scrutinize all this logically but first,’ Cranston rose to his feet, ‘three matters. First, I am staying with you. Secondly, you and I remain close – no more wandering in deserted places.’ He glared down at the friar.

‘And thirdly, Sir John?’

‘We are going to demand an immediate audience with our Lord Abbot. I want the prior and sub-prior in attendance. I want that meeting now with no dalliance or delay.’

Cranston was true to his word and, within the hour, he and Athelstan swept into the abbot’s chamber. The coroner immediately ensconced himself on a chair before Lord Walter’s desk and smiled falsely at this prince of the church flanked by his two most senior monks.

‘My Lord Walter, I want the truth.’

‘I always tell it.’

‘Good, I expect that from a priest. The Upright Men, the Great Community of the Realm who, we all know, meet at All Hallows, Barking. Do you pay them protection money?’

‘I . . .’

‘You pay them protection money – yes or no?’ Cranston thundered.

‘Yes.’

‘How much?’

‘Five pounds in gold every month.’

Cranston whistled under his breath.

‘Don’t threaten me with treason, Sir John. I am protected by Holy Mother Church; other great lords also pay the piper.’

‘In return for what?’

‘As you say, protection. You’ve heard of the attacks elsewhere. My duty to God and my brothers is to protect this abbey until His Grace the Regent resolves this problem once and for all.’

‘And you two know of this?’

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.’