by Ann Swinfen
‘You went to the back door and knocked?’
He rubbed his temples again.
‘Nay.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I went to the back door and it was slightly ajar. I heard voices. Two men talking. And I thought I should wait a moment before I made myself known.’
‘And then?’ Philip said.
The merchant closed his eyes. ‘I am trying to remember. Two men speaking. One was Hamo Belancer. It’s a distinctive voice, I remembered it. High pitched. He talks through his nose.’
‘Like a Frenchman,’ I said.
‘Aye, that will be it. And – of course! – they were speaking French.’
He opened his eyes and we all stared at him.
‘So,’ I said, ‘it was not the fellow who tried to sell you the books who struck you down. From what you told me of him, I would not think he could speak French.’
‘Unlikely.’
‘There are a number of Frenchmen here at the fair,’ Margaret said. ‘We have seen them.’
‘As have I. Hamo told me he knew one,’ I said, ‘a vintner, who was to supply the wine for the prince’s dinner.’
‘Then it was nothing more than old acquaintances meeting together,’ Jordain said.
Peter Winchingham sat up straight, pressing his fists down on the table. ‘I remember now. They were not talking idly, as old acquaintances do. Hamo Belancer was telling the other man of a secret way he knew, to gain entrance to the Priory of St Frideswide. Can it be that they are somehow caught up in this business of the theft of the priory’s books? It seems strange, for a pair of vintners.’
‘Very strange,’ Philip said. ‘I do not much care for Hamo Belancer, but he is – or at least he was – a prosperous burgess of this town, until he lost his French vineyards. I can see no reason why he should stoop to stealing books. And why should this Frenchman have any interest in such thievery?’
‘It makes no sense,’ I agreed. ‘The one obsession in Belancer’s life is that lost patrimony in France. I can well imagine him discussing that with a Frenchman, especially a French vintner, but what business could they have with the priory?’
I paused, turning a marchpane comfit over and over until my fingers became sticky. I looked at Peter Winchingham. ‘Nevertheless, could it have been one of those two men who struck you on the head? They were there, nearby.’
He looked at me bleakly and nodded slowly. ‘I think you have the right of it, Master Elyot. It comes back to me more clearly now. I did not like the sound of their discussion, so I decided to come away. I turned. My feet may have made some noise, for there was rubbish at foot there in the alley. And, aye, I think there was a moment when there came more light. I had forgotten that. As though the door was opened wider.’
‘The door opening,’ Emma said quietly, ‘and the men looking out into the alley.’
‘Aye, that must have been it. And then I was struck.’
‘They thought you had overheard them, heard more than you did. And it was something they needed to conceal.’ I passed a hand over my face. ‘Needed seriously enough to risk killing you.’
‘Yet I hardly heard anything.’
‘They would not know how long you had been listening,’ Jordain said.
‘I wish now that I had asked Hamo which of the Frenchmen he knew,’ I said. ‘It must surely have been the same man.’
‘Perhaps it may be possible to learn the name of the man who supplied the wine for the priory dinner,’ Margaret said.
‘Aye, Canon Aubery may know. Though what may be afoot . . .’ My voice trailed off. Suddenly I remembered my conversation with Alice Walsea, which had gone quite out of mind with all that had happened since.
Could this Frenchman be the one she was seeking? And if it was, what had he to do with Hamo Belancer or with the Priory of St Frideswide?
Chapter Six
When it was time for our guests to depart, we made a party of it, for I accompanied them along the High. I think we all felt nervous of possible danger in the street after the attack on Peter Winchingham. All of us carried lanterns and did not trouble to keep our voices down, for a large noisy group is in less danger than a solitary pedestrian on his own.
We had gone but a dozen or so yards, and were about opposite Hamo Belancer’s shop, when the merchant suddenly stopped. Both the shop and the domestic quarters above were in darkness.
‘I have just remembered something,’ he said, rubbing his hand across his face. ‘I did catch sight of the other man. The Frenchman who was with Belancer. Just for a moment, at the edge of my sight. He was not a big man, medium height, medium build. Very dark, though. I would say that his complexion marked him as a man from the south, from Italy or Provence, hardly a Frenchman.’
‘Could this be the vintner Hamo spoke of?’ I wondered. ‘Are not the wines of France grown further north?’
‘Not all of them. And a wealthy vintner might have lands in more than one region.’
‘The vineyards Hamo used to own were in Guyenne. My knowledge of the geography of France is somewhat hazy,’ I admitted.
He nodded. ‘Guyenne is good wine-growing country. This man might well have been his fellow vintner in the same part of the country. But what their interest in the priory could be, the Saints alone can know.’
‘Too much is happening,’ I said, ‘which is somehow connected to the priory. First the books you showed me. Then the fire at the fair gatehouse. Now this conversation you overheard between Hamo and the Frenchman. And the whispers which have reached Alice Walsea. She thought they might mean nothing, but that seems less and less likely.’
I thought for a moment.
‘Even earlier, Canon Aubery was concerned about valuables disappearing from the priory. Tomorrow I will try to discover from him which of the Frenchmen supplied the priory with wine for yesterday’s entertainment of the prince. There can have been nothing amiss with the wine, or we should have heard of it by now. But a merchant providing expensive goods to the priory would have easy access to it. He would need no secret entrance, such as you heard them discussing. Perhaps this is not the same man, but another Frenchman seeking out Hamo Belancer on the recommendation of his friend.’
‘Whoever he was,’ Emma said, ‘it is clear that they mean some mischief, like the scoundrels who set fire to the fair’s gatehouse.’
‘Aye,’ Philip said thoughtfully. ‘There is still plenty of ill-will abroad in the town about the profits the priory makes from the fair. Only this afternoon our porter was reminding me of what happened in ’44.’
‘What was that?’ Winchingham asked. ‘I was last here a year or two before that.’
‘The mayor and bailiffs of the town captured the senior lay steward of the priory and seized all the tolls, rents, and profits of the fair, swearing that the monies were the town’s by right, after the previous prior and canons had sworn to give up their claim.’
‘That was forced from them, under threat of death,’ Jordain said.
‘Aye, so it was. It seems the amount in ’44 was a thousand pounds or more.’
The merchant gave a soft whistle. ‘That much? No wonder the matter remains in dispute. Did the priory get its money back?’
‘I think so. The royal charter entitles them to it. But you have the right of it. There is a great deal of ill will because of the enormous sums of money. Not only does the town have no claim on the profits of the fair. There is also all the trade lost during the time it takes place.’
We all knew these disputes by heart, but it seemed that this year matters were growing more dangerous than usual.
‘If some attack is planned on the priory itself, they must be warned,’ I said. ‘If I can manage to see Canon Aubery tomorrow, I will tell him.’
‘But,’ Emma said, putting her finger on the nub of the problem, ‘why should any mischief planned by the town concern a Frenchman?’
None of us had any answer to that. We had reached the corner where St Mildred Street met the High, with All Saints Church on one
side and the Mitre Inn on the other
‘I will escort Lady Emma to her door,’ I said, ‘and you are here safely at your inn, Master Winchingham. I’d recommend a quiet day tomorrow, resting that head of yours.’
He grinned like a boy. ‘It will do me good to be about my business at the fair. Far better than moping around the inn like a maid with the green sickness. I am always the better for staying busy. I give you good night, gentlemen and my lady Emma, and with all my heart I thank you for rescuing me, else I might now be stone cold in the filth of that alley. Not the way I would choose to end my days.’
He had put on his boots before we left, but Margaret insisted on keeping his robe to clean.
‘My sister will return your robe,’ I said. ‘As soon as it is fit.’
‘She is a wonder,’ he said, ‘your sister. That was a meal fit for the king himself.’
We saw him safely inside the inn, then Jordain and Philip were determined upon accompanying me to Emma’s door, although I would have preferred to have had that duty to myself. Her farewells were brief.
‘It has been an unexpectedly interesting evening, Nicholas,’ she said. ‘I like your merchant, even if he is old enough to be my father. And it seems we are on the scent of an intriguing puzzle, involving murderous Frenchmen. God give you all good-night.’
With that she slipped through the door of Mistress Farringdon’s house, quietly, so as not to wake those sleeping inside. Once we had heard her slide the bolts, we turned back to the High.
‘Now,’ said Philip, ‘our numbers are diminished. We could spend the rest of the night seeing each other home, for fear of attackers, but I will walk with you as far as Magpie Lane, then take my life in my hands and walk the rest of the way to Merton alone.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jordain said anxiously. ‘It is not far from where Master Winchingham was attacked.’
‘I am certain the man – Frenchman, if he was – is long gone. I’ll be in no danger from the whores of the lane. They will be long abed by now. Alone or in company.’
After Philip had left us, Jordain and I quickened our steps.
‘Now we have a dilemma,’ I said. ‘Either you escort me home, then walk alone to Hart Hall, or I see you to Hart Hall and I walk home alone.’
‘A pretty conundrum,’ Jordain said, and we both began to laugh. Perhaps we had washed down our supper with a little too much ale.
‘I have found a solution,’ I said. ‘Your students, like the whores of Magpie Lane, will be long abed and will not take kindly to being knocked up at this hour. Come and spend the night with us. You have slept in the truckle bed in my chamber before now. What do you say?’
‘With the prospect of one of Margaret’s breakfasts tomorrow? Bread fresh from the oven, instead of the baker’s stale leftovers? It would take a stronger man than I to say you nay.’
It was only after we were settled in our beds, and the candle blown out, that Jordain spoke into the darkness.
‘However these broken pieces fit together, Nicholas, I fear they make an unpleasant whole. Whether or not the secret way into the priory is somehow to do with the thefts which have taken place, I do not like the sound of it.’
‘The other possibility,’ I said, stifling a yawn, ‘despite the presence of this Frenchman, is that it is another attack by the town on the priory. The firing of the gatehouse may have been no more than a warning. If a fire should be started in the priory itself, there will be lives lost, and not only amongst the canons. It would quickly spread through the town.’
‘Can any of the townsmen be so foolish as to risk that? Their own homes might be reduced to ashes.’
‘When men reach a certain pitch of anger,’ I said, ‘they do not reason clearly.’
‘That is very true.’ He was silent for a few minutes. ‘I cannot see how any of this is related to what Mistress Walsea has heard. No dangerous Frenchman would have come all the way to Oxford to set fire to a priory.’
‘It seems unlikely.’ I turned over in bed, setting the ropes creaking. ‘Of course, the Frenchman may have an interest in valuable books, or church silver. It may be a case of robbery on a large scale. The priory does also possess some relics. There are those, both inside and outside the Church, who will not hesitate to sully their hands with crime in order to get those same hands on some coveted relic.’
‘Indeed. In that case, is the Frenchman working with the fellow who showed Master Winchingham the books? That would make a third man involved in this, besides Hamo Belancer and this French fellow. It cannot be Hamo who took the books to the merchant, for he already knew him. It was a stranger.’
‘You are making my head hurt,’ I said. ‘Go to sleep. Tomorrow it may all seem clearer. In any case, I must see Canon Aubery urgently.’
I set off early the following morning, immediately after breaking my fast. As usual, Margaret fed Jordain as though she were stuffing a goose for a Twelfth Night banquet. She considered that he would come near to starving at Hart Hall if she did not feed him whenever she could. We both knew that the scanty provisions Hart Hall’s meagre budget could purchase went mainly to the students, while Jordain took little for himself. Such short commons would have driven away the students from any other hall, but Jordain was a fine teacher and looked after his students as carefully as their parents, so they stayed. It was known to be difficult to secure a place at Hart Hall. Whenever a student finished there, either to return home or to take up a position in one of the colleges, there was a rush of others eager to take his place.
Jordain and I left together and parted near St Mary’s, Jordain to head up Catte Street, while I crossed the High. I decided I would call on Alice Walsea, if she had not yet left for the fairground. I had promised that I would let her know if I discovered anything which might relate to the Frenchman she was seeking. The man whom Peter Winchingham had glimpsed might not be the same man, but there was no harm in passing on the information.
I found Mistress Walsea in the parlour of Tackley’s inn, still at her breakfast. She looked like any decent merchant’s wife, come to St Frideswide’s Fair either to buy or to sell. Pleasant, but unremarkable. You would not have taken her for the elegant and discreet lady’s waiting woman that she had been just a few weeks before. She motioned me to a chair at her table, and called to the pot boy to bring another ale cup.
‘This place has changed, since I was a student,’ I said, as I took a seat. ‘It has been freshly lime washed, and the pot boys and maid servants are looking very spruce. It used to be more down at heel.’
She smiled. ‘It is very pleasant. Not as fine as the Mitre or the Cross, but a good, honest, comfortable inn, such as a moderately prosperous merchant would choose.’ She looked about her. ‘I do not see any students here.’
‘I believe that nowadays their quarters are in the back premises, well away from the more well-to-do guests. The student lodgings provide a regular income during the whole of the university year, but the inn must make what profit it can from such opportunities as the fair.’
‘Aye,’ she said shrewdly. ‘The inns and taverns must be the only businesses in Oxford which welcome the advent of the fair. Now, have you something for me?’
‘I am not sure whether this is your man or not, but I saw no harm in telling you of an attack which took place last night, not many yards along the street from here.’
‘An attack?’
‘Aye, an English merchant over to the fair from Bruges. He thought to buy a flask of wine to bring to dinner with me, by the back door at the vintner’s shop of Hamo Belancer, a man who had a French father and used to own vineyards in Guyenne, until they were lost to the French king in one of the skirmishes along the border. It was he told me of the French vintner who was to supply wine for the prince’s dinner.’
‘I see.’ She ate the last of the bread and cheese on her plate, laid aside her knife, and wiped her lips on her napkin. ‘And where – and indeed why – was this merchant attacked?’
‘He had rea
ched the door, then heard voices speaking French, and hesitated to knock.’
‘He speaks French, naturally.’
‘Fluently.’
‘So he heard something dangerous?’
‘Odd, rather than dangerous. They seemed to be discussing a secret way into the Priory of St Frideswide. He decided to come away, without buying any wine.’
‘Wise, no doubt.’ She smiled grimly. ‘How did he come to be attacked?’
‘He thinks his feet may have made a noise amongst the litter of the alleyway. He was struck over the head from behind, and – had a friend and I not gone searching for him – he might have died.’
I realised I had not touched the ale she had ordered for me, so I took a sip.
‘We are not sure . . . this may be nothing to do with the man you are seeking. There have been a number of disturbing matters connected to St Frideswide’s Priory in the last week or so.’
She knew of the firing of the fair gatehouse, of course, but I reminded her of it, then I told her briefly about Canon Aubery’s discovery of the missing church treasures, and about the books belonging to the priory which had been brought to Peter Winchingham, under the pretence of being books from a gentleman’s library which was to be sold up.
‘Now,’ I said, ‘we may have three distinct problems here.’ I numbered them off on my fingers. ‘First, antipathy toward and attacks on the priory from disgruntled townsmen. Second, thefts of books and church silver from the priory. And third, your whispers about a French criminal coming to Oxford. They may all be unrelated. Talk of a secret way into the priory might be concerned with further thefts, or with an attack on the priory itself – perhaps arson, which could prove dangerous to the town. Your man may be quite unconnected.’
‘But they were speaking French.’
I nodded. ‘They were speaking French.’
‘This Oxford vintner who told you he knew the merchant who supplied the wine for the prince – he did not tell you his name, or point him out?’
‘He did not, but I could certainly ask him.’
She rested her chin on her clasped hands. ‘The vintner from France would need no secret way into the priory. He could come and go as he pleased, without any need for an excuse.’
