The Pardoner's Crime (8 page)

Richard had a suspicion that the task Sir Thomas had set himself would not be so easy, but he said nothing in direct reply. Instead, he addressed John of Flanshaw.

‘Enter in the rolls that the Deputy Steward, Sir Thomas Deyville undertakes to apprehend Robert Hood the outlaw, and bring him before this court – alive and well.'

He rapped the gavel and addressed Ned Burkin. ‘Have the body taken back to the Tolbooth and bring the prisoner before us.'

T
here were angry mutterings and threatening
movements
within the crowd as Constable Ned Burkin and one of the other constables marched the Pardoner through to the court pen.

Sir Richard rapped the table with his gavel. ‘This court will now try the case of the rape of Lillian Fenton, a maid of this town. She is as I understand it, not yet well, so who will stand in her stead as accuser?'

Beatrice and Matilda pushed through. ‘We will, Sir Richard,' said Beatrice. ‘I am Beatrice Quigley, the owner of the Bucket Inn.'

‘And I am Matilda Oxley, cousin of Lillian Fenton.'

‘Mark this, members of the jury,' Richard counselled. Then he asked the Pardoner, ‘Your name?'

The Pardoner had been standing with his hands clasped together and his head bowed. He seemed to tremble with fear. ‘I am Albin of Rouncivale.'

‘Well, Albin of Rouncivale, I am told that you have confessed to the rape of Lillian Fenton, a maid of this town. Is this true?'

The Pardoner swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rising and falling slowly, as if his mouth was devoid of saliva. ‘It is true that I confessed to the watch last night, but, my lord, I am a Pardoner and I claim the benefit of clergy.'

‘What is this?' snapped Sir Thomas.

Richard pursed his lips. ‘A Pardoner, eh! And can you read and write, Albin of Rouncivale?'

‘I can, my lord. In both English and Latin.'

Richard signalled to the bailiff. ‘Bring a fresh scroll and a quill.'

When they were placed on the table in front of Richard he directed the Pardoner to approach the bench and pick up the quill. ‘Now write this in Latin:
O God, have mercy upon me, according to Thine heartfelt mercifulness.
'

The Pardoner's hand shook and he genuflected and thought for a moment, then wrote in an unsteady hand:

Richard spun the scroll round and inspected it. Then he nodded his head. ‘It is so. He can write in Latin, so is granted by law the benefit of clergy. This case will be heard by an ecclesiastical court.'

The Pardoner again made the sign of a cross over his heart and hung his head in silent prayer.

The crowd muttered angrily and threatened to move forward towards the Pardoner.

‘That is unjust, my lord!' gasped Matilda.

‘If he raped Lillian, he deserves—' began Beatrice.

Richard rapped his gavel. ‘Enough! My decision shall be recorded. Albin of Rouncivale shall be tried by an
ecclesiastical
consistory court in York. Until then he shall be taken and held in land belonging to the Church.'

‘There is nowhere here in Wakefield, Sir Richard,' John of Flanshaw volunteered.

‘And what of Nostell Priory? I hear that is close by.'

‘It is, my lord. Yet it has only a prior and five monks. They are White monks of the Cistercian Order, all of whom have taken the vow of silence. I fear that they would not be able to hold someone against their will.'

Richard frowned and stroked his upper lip thoughtfully. Then his attention was caught by a wave of the hand from Father Daniel.

‘Lady Katherine says that he may be quartered at the Priory of Kirklees, Sir Richard. She and I shall be returning there today.'

Richard bowed to them. ‘I thank you for that. Two of the Wakefield constables and two men of the watch will
accompany
you and guard him on the journey.' He nodded to Constable Burkin. ‘Take the prisoner back to the Tolbooth until then.'

He rapped his gavel. ‘I declare that this session of the Manor Court is now over. You may all leave.'

As the people started filing out, Sir Thomas shook his head angrily. ‘Sir Richard, if that is an example of your law-giving, then I have no time for this “fair law” of yours. These people need strong law, examples must be made. Instead of that you give them fines, warnings and tricks with Latin. That Pardoner should be castrated and have his eyes put out, at the least.' And with a final shrug he rose and departed. ‘Come, Daughter,' he called over his shoulder.

Lady Wilhelmina rose and placed a hand on Richard's sleeve. ‘I hope that my father's harshness will not sour our relationship,' she said. ‘I myself found this law session of great interest and I would talk to you later, if I may.'

Richard inclined his head and watched as she left. He was conscious that his cheeks burned, but which emotion was responsible for it he was unsure. Certainly, he had to admit that he found the Lady Wilhelmina quite captivating.

For some time later Richard, Hubert and John of Flanshaw sat in the office going over more of the court rolls.

‘I cannot make head nor tail of them, my lord,' said Hubert, scratching his head. ‘Latin is more schooling than I ever had, despite your kind teaching. Not like that Pardoner. What was it you said he could have again?'

‘The benefit of clergy,' Richard returned. ‘In the old days all clergymen were exempt from common law and could only be tried under canon law in an ecclesiastical court. When King Henry the Second came to the throne he changed all that and said that everyone would be tried under Royal Law. Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury argued with the King and was murdered for his pains.'

‘Blessed Thomas, the Martyr?' Hubert asked.

‘The very same. King Henry was forced to make amends to the Church and agreed that the courts would have no
jurisdiction
over the clergy.'

‘But a pardoner is not a proper clergyman, is he?'

Richard rubbed his chin and smiled ruefully. ‘He lives by selling pardons given by the church. In this day that entitles him to claim clerical status. And he passed the test, which was to be able to read and write in Latin.'

‘And so even if he is guilty of this rape, he will probably go free?'

‘If he can get twelve compurgators, that means people prepared to swear an oath as to his innocence, then, yes, he will go free.'

Hubert blew air through his lips. ‘Then I am not sure that I like this law. And I don't think many of the folk in court today liked it either, my lord.'

‘That is as maybe,' Richard replied, scanning the vellum scroll in front of him. ‘Yet it is the law.' He turned to the bailiff. ‘Have you found that document yet, Master John?'

The bailiff turned with a smile. He was holding a roll of parchment. He blew a thin layer of dust from it and handed it to Richard. ‘This is for the years 1316 and 1317.'

Sir Richard unrolled it on the table and they both pored over it.

‘This looks like it!' John of Flanshaw exclaimed with delight.

Richard ran his finger along the entry, translating the Latin from the spidery writing.

He ran his finger further down the scroll.

‘That is right, Sir Richard,' the bailiff volunteered. ‘He would have been busy building the house. It is a large
five-roomed
home now. He would rather have paid the fine than lose the building time in summer.'

Richard sighed. ‘But he did join with Earl Lancaster and lost it all. He surely cannot be a King's man.'

‘But my lord, You know that he—' Hubert began, but was cut off in mid-sentence by Richard's shake of the head and gesture with his head in the bailiff's direction. Hubert gave a slight nod, realizing that Richard had not told Sir Thomas that they had met the Hood, and that for some reason of his own he did not intend the bailiff to know either.

Yet John of Flanshaw did not seem to have picked up on the exchange. ‘I think that like most men of his station he does what he is told, Sir Richard. But you are probably correct. He is unlikely to be well-disposed to his majesty.'

Richard nodded and stood up abruptly. ‘Thank you Master John. You may clear these records away. I will call on you soon.' And with a gesture to Hubert they left the Roll's Office and the Moot Hall.

‘Where to now, my lord?' Hubert asked.

Richard smiled. ‘We go our separate ways now. I am going to the apothecary's and you are going for a mug of ale at the Bucket Inn.'

Hubert's eyes brightened. ‘I am? And I take it that I am going to ask questions?'

‘You are. I want you to find out what you can about William Scathelocke, the pinder.'

Richard was conscious of the scrutiny of the townsfolk as he rode to the apothecary's premises on the Westgate. He entered and found Emma Oldthorpe behind the counter crushing herbs in a large pestle and mortar.

‘Is Master Oldthorpe in, Mistress Oldthorpe?'

Emma Oldthorpe had smiled upon his entry and Richard fancied that he had seen a touch of colour appear on each cheek.

‘I am afraid that he has gone to Pontefract this afternoon, Sir Richard. We both normally go, for he rents a small room at the back of a fellow grocer's shop and consults. I have had to stay today, since we still have to look after young Miss Lillian Fenton. My husband wants her blood to be built up to chase away the excess of black bile that had made her so
melancholic
. I am just preparing a stock of medicine for her.'

Richard nodded. As an educated man he had some
understanding
of medicine and of the Doctrine of the Humours, as the four vital fluids were known. Blood, phlegm, yellow and black bile, excess of any of them being regarded as the cause of illness.

‘And what will you be using to build her blood?' he asked, with genuine interest.

She pointed at the mortar with the pestle. ‘I am mixing herbs from our own physic garden. Fenugreek, parsley, celery and yarrow.' She laid the pestle aside and lifted and poured the powdered herbs into a bowl containing a bloody pulp. ‘We mix this with some good cow's liver and then mix that with bosh water.'

‘Bosh water?' Richard queried.

‘Yes, sir. Bosh water from the blacksmith's trough. He quenches hot iron in it and it is a good tonic for the blood.'

And so saying, she stirred the mix with a wooden spirtle and then poured a good pint of dark liquid into the bowl and then stirred again. ‘Normally our Gilbert would help me do this, but he is out delivering potions to some of my husband's sickest patients.'

‘Is Lillian still with you then?'

‘Yes, sir, we have put her upstairs. Her kinswoman Matilda comes and looks after her and she is hoping to take her back home to the Bucket Inn later today. My husband says that he will decide upon his return from Pontefract this evening.' She tapped the spirtle on the side of the bowl. ‘It just needs to settle for a while then I will pour it into a flask ready for her next treatment.' She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled again. ‘Now, Sir Richard, was there any message for me to give to my husband?'

‘Actually, I was going to let him look at my wound and the dressing.'

Emma Oldthorpe put a hand to her mouth. ‘Goodness! He must have forgotten. Yet I can look at it if you wish?' And gesturing towards the door she led him through to the room where they had cauterized Lillian's wrists the day before. Emma pointed to the couch and Richard lay down.

‘I understand that you help your husband a lot, Mistress Oldthorpe.'

‘Please, Sir Richard; my name is Emma if you would prefer to use that.' She pulled his boot off and eased his hose up over his knee. Then she began to undo the bandaging on his leg. ‘How is it feeling, sir?'

‘It is much improved. I no longer have the ague or the fever and sweating. The potion and the dressing seem to have had a near miraculous effect.'

Emma gently peeled the mouldy leather pad from the
arrow-wound
and dabbed pus away from the margins of the gash.

‘Arrows make a nasty mess of flesh,' she said, looking up at him with her large green eyes.

‘I got this at the battle of Boroughbridge,' he said. ‘It has been most slow to heal. And I agree, arrows make a mess.'

‘I did not enjoy seeing the body of that poor man at the court this morning,' Emma added with a wince of disdain. ‘Who would do such a thing, Sir Richard?'

‘That is yet to be found out, although suspicion falls on one man.'

‘On Robert Hood?'

‘It is only suspicion. There is no proof as yet.'

Emma rose and folded the leather pad. ‘I will replace it with another piece then I will rebind it.' And she went back into the shop, returning after a few moments with another mouldy square of leather. She closed the door after her, bent down beside the couch and redressed the wound.

‘You do not have an accent from these parts, Emma,' Richard commented. ‘Where are you from?'

‘From the West Country, sir. I met my husband there and we have moved many times. We lived in Warwick for a while and then moved to Pontefract before settling in Wakefield. My husband is a good man. He even took my poor cousin Gilbert in and gave him a home.' She sighed. ‘Gilbert is hunchbacked and somewhat simple-witted, Sir Richard.'

Richard nodded. ‘Your husband certainly seems to know his work. I was impressed with his examination of the body this morning. And his treatment of the girl Lillian and of my own wound. Yet he is …' he hesitated, ‘considerably older than you.'