he couldn’t even be granted a decent rest in his bed.
‘Sir Baldwin,’ Edgar called quietly after a short while, ‘there has been a death in the Cathedral and the Dean has sent his Bailiff to ask you and Master Puttock to see him.’
‘But we’ve only been here one night!’ came a small plaintive voice from Baldwin’s bed.
He smiled at his wife, snuggled well under a pile of blankets and cloaks. ‘Tell the good Bailiff that we shall attend the Dean as soon as we are dressed,’ he said.
The Bailiff of the City had hurried off as soon as he had delivered his message, so Baldwin and Simon had to make their own way to the Dean. At the great gate they were pointed to his small house and were soon hurried upstairs to his hall.
Simon was unimpressed by the Dean. It took only a few minutes to classify the fellow as a foolish old dolt. Dean Alfred stood before his table, rubbing his hands together as if he was washing them, and surveyed his guests with an anxious face that reminded Simon uncharitably of Baldwin’s old mastiff.
‘My friends, I am grateful that you should have come so speedily to our aid,’ he said. ‘Hmm. Um, this matter is so serious that I fear I must ask for help from whichever quarter I . . .’
‘There was no need,’ came an uncompromising voice from behind them, and Simon spun to meet the stern gaze of another man.
‘This is Roger de Gidleigh, Coroner of Exeter,’ said Dean Alfred unhappily. ‘Ahmm, he claims the right to perform the inquest.’
‘It is my duty under the King’s laws,’ the man stated.
‘But not Canon law,’ the Dean said miserably. ‘Um, I have to ensure that the Cathedral itself is represented within the Cathedral’s walls.’
‘You could as easily send a cleric as your representative.’
The Dean ignored his loud, rasping voice. ‘Sir Baldwin, Bailiff Puttock, hmm, would you please help the Coroner in his enquiries? Poor Peter is dead.’
‘It would be a pleasure,’ Simon lied, wondering who ‘Poor Peter’ could be. It didn’t take long for the Dean to tell them, explaining how the boy had died during the service.
Baldwin was puzzled. ‘So this fellow went into convulsions and collapsed?’
‘Just like a man who had been poisoned,’ said Coroner Roger grimly. ‘And he had been showing symptoms of illness for some days, so I am told.’
‘As if he was being slowly poisoned?’ Baldwin asked. No one answered.
‘Why should someone wish to kill a cleric?’ Simon asked.
The Dean looked at him with an infinity of sadness in his eyes. ‘Some men would do anything for revenge, Bailiff.’
‘Revenge? What makes you mention that?’ Simon pressed sharply.
‘This cleric helped identify a robber and felon in the city recently. I wonder whether the outlaw’s leader might have wanted to avenge his hanged associate.’
Coroner Roger had been listening with growing impatience. ‘Rubbish. It was because the dead boy had been supposed to take jewels and money to a glover in the city . . .’
‘The glover who was killed by his apprentice?’ Baldwin demanded. First there was the fact that the cleric had been with the merchant Karvinel, now he was connected to the dead glover as well.
‘The same, yes. Only since his death, the money and some of the jewels have disappeared.’
‘And the gloves, too, were gone?’ Baldwin asked.
‘No, they were found and have gone to another glover to be finished. Most of the jewels were already on them, and they only need a little work to be completed,’ the Dean sighed. ‘Ummm, it means the Cathedral must buy even more gems and pay more money to finish the work on time. It is terrible, especially since we only recently lost money to the hanged outlaw. You er probably saw him hanging?’
Baldwin wanted to concentrate on the central point. ‘How many jewels are missing?’ he asked. ‘You have a receipt, I suppose, to check against the gloves as they stand?’
‘Of course. Ahm . . .’ the Dean
‘Sir Baldwin,’ Edgar called quietly after a short while, ‘there has been a death in the Cathedral and the Dean has sent his Bailiff to ask you and Master Puttock to see him.’
‘But we’ve only been here one night!’ came a small plaintive voice from Baldwin’s bed.
He smiled at his wife, snuggled well under a pile of blankets and cloaks. ‘Tell the good Bailiff that we shall attend the Dean as soon as we are dressed,’ he said.
The Bailiff of the City had hurried off as soon as he had delivered his message, so Baldwin and Simon had to make their own way to the Dean. At the great gate they were pointed to his small house and were soon hurried upstairs to his hall.
Simon was unimpressed by the Dean. It took only a few minutes to classify the fellow as a foolish old dolt. Dean Alfred stood before his table, rubbing his hands together as if he was washing them, and surveyed his guests with an anxious face that reminded Simon uncharitably of Baldwin’s old mastiff.
‘My friends, I am grateful that you should have come so speedily to our aid,’ he said. ‘Hmm. Um, this matter is so serious that I fear I must ask for help from whichever quarter I . . .’
‘There was no need,’ came an uncompromising voice from behind them, and Simon spun to meet the stern gaze of another man.
‘This is Roger de Gidleigh, Coroner of Exeter,’ said Dean Alfred unhappily. ‘Ahmm, he claims the right to perform the inquest.’
‘It is my duty under the King’s laws,’ the man stated.
‘But not Canon law,’ the Dean said miserably. ‘Um, I have to ensure that the Cathedral itself is represented within the Cathedral’s walls.’
‘You could as easily send a cleric as your representative.’
The Dean ignored his loud, rasping voice. ‘Sir Baldwin, Bailiff Puttock, hmm, would you please help the Coroner in his enquiries? Poor Peter is dead.’
‘It would be a pleasure,’ Simon lied, wondering who ‘Poor Peter’ could be. It didn’t take long for the Dean to tell them, explaining how the boy had died during the service.
Baldwin was puzzled. ‘So this fellow went into convulsions and collapsed?’
‘Just like a man who had been poisoned,’ said Coroner Roger grimly. ‘And he had been showing symptoms of illness for some days, so I am told.’
‘As if he was being slowly poisoned?’ Baldwin asked. No one answered.
‘Why should someone wish to kill a cleric?’ Simon asked.
The Dean looked at him with an infinity of sadness in his eyes. ‘Some men would do anything for revenge, Bailiff.’
‘Revenge? What makes you mention that?’ Simon pressed sharply.
‘This cleric helped identify a robber and felon in the city recently. I wonder whether the outlaw’s leader might have wanted to avenge his hanged associate.’
Coroner Roger had been listening with growing impatience. ‘Rubbish. It was because the dead boy had been supposed to take jewels and money to a glover in the city . . .’
‘The glover who was killed by his apprentice?’ Baldwin demanded. First there was the fact that the cleric had been with the merchant Karvinel, now he was connected to the dead glover as well.
‘The same, yes. Only since his death, the money and some of the jewels have disappeared.’
‘And the gloves, too, were gone?’ Baldwin asked.
‘No, they were found and have gone to another glover to be finished. Most of the jewels were already on them, and they only need a little work to be completed,’ the Dean sighed. ‘Ummm, it means the Cathedral must buy even more gems and pay more money to finish the work on time. It is terrible, especially since we only recently lost money to the hanged outlaw. You er probably saw him hanging?’
Baldwin wanted to concentrate on the central point. ‘How many jewels are missing?’ he asked. ‘You have a receipt, I suppose, to check against the gloves as they stand?’
‘Of course. Ahm . . .’ the Dean
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