‘Why did you want to see me?’ he asked.
‘To pass on a warning.’
‘I have been warned often enough. I will not join your revolt.’
‘Something more serious than that, but, to show you my goodwill, let me help you …’
‘And reveal the name of the Herald of Hell?’
‘Brother, I will not betray our secrets. I refer to Whitfield’s death.’
‘And?’
Grindcobbe leaned over the table. ‘If Radegund acted like a common whore, Whitfield and Lebarge were no better. Oh,’ Grindcobbe sipped from his tankard, ‘Whitfield was the most skilled of cipher clerks who worked at the very heart of Thibault’s chancery. Heaven knows what secrets passed through his hands, but Whitfield was also very greedy and lecherous, even though he was impotent. We know that from the whores with whom he played so many games. Whitfield needed silver and gold to pay his way and satisfy his appetites. He also had an eye for the future. He feared the coming troubles, especially when he, like so many of Gaunt’s minions, was visited by the Herald of Hell.’
‘Whitfield had a great deal to fear.’
‘Oh, too true, Brother. You see, Whitfield had sold himself to others, including the Upright Men.’
Athelstan just shook his head.
‘It’s the truth. Indeed we called him “Chanticlere”, the cock which crows so shrilly for all to hear and tries to mount every hen in his filthy yard. In return for good coin, Whitfield, through his scrivener Lebarge, would send us warnings, give us sound advice, not too much to provoke suspicion but enough for us to take precautions when needed.’
‘And the gold and silver?’
‘It would join the rest of Whitfield’s illicit income.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have met Adam Stretton, Fitzalan of Arundel’s man, at the Golden Oliphant? A mailed clerk, a true assassin, a killer born and bred who has carried out all kinds of nefarious crimes secretly, subtly, at the dead of night for his master. Stretton is most adept at arranging accidents: a fall downstairs, a fire which abruptly breaks out, a horse which suddenly turns violent and bolts. Did you know he once trained as an apprentice with the Guild of Locksmiths? A crafty, cunning clerk who can work wonders on bolts, locks and hinges. Oh, by the way, Odo Gray, our jolly sea captain, is no better. Many is the passenger who has disappeared over the side. The member of crew who protested too much tumbling from the rigging or the unwanted guest supposedly falling ill on board and buried swiftly at sea before any physician could examine the corpse and shout poison.’ Grindcobbe licked his lips. ‘To return to Stretton. His master Arundel hates Gaunt, who replies in kind. To be brief, Arundel, through Stretton, was also paying Whitfield for whatever information he could glean about Gaunt, Thibault and the rest of their devilish coven. Stretton had to be careful, so he would come to the Cokayne festivals or any other revelry at the Golden Oliphant. Whitfield attended the last joyous meeting, he always did, and Stretton joined him to discover more, to put pressure on him or …’ Grindcobbe paused. ‘Did Stretton also suspect that Whitfield and Lebarge were preparing to flee across the Narrow Seas for pastures new? Was he there to draw Whitfield into Arundel’s coven? To offer him protection, to discover more information, or, more likely, threaten Whitfield that the Earl of Arundel wanted a richer return on his investment? We certainly did.’
‘You have Upright Men at the Golden Oliphant?’
‘Of course, as we do in all the wards, streets, taverns, alehouses and brothels of London. The Golden Oliphant is no different, you know that. When Thibault arrived there, the Upright Men, whoever or whatever he, she or they may be, seized the opportunity to loose those crossbow bolts.’ Grindcobbe chuckled. ‘Of course we did little hurt or harm but it served a powerful warning to our demon enemy.’
‘And you intervened again outside St Mary Le Bow?’ Athelstan asked. His surprise had now faded, replaced by a deep curiosity. He had served at St Erconwald’s for many a day. The Upright Men had become part of the fabric of his life and that of the parish, but now he was being drawn into the very heart of their machinations.
‘Yes, it was us outside St Mary Le Bow. We intended you no harm. We guessed that Thibault had handed you the cipher that Whitfield held, the one seized, or at least part of it, when that arrogant madcap Reynard allowed himself to be captured. We only wanted to hold you as a threat against Cranston, whilst we emptied or filched your chancery satchel. Of course we, or rather they, made a stupid mistake. Cranston, despite his bulk, is still as fast as a lunging viper.’
‘Good Sir John.’ Athelstan toasted Grindcobbe with his tankard. The captain of the Upright Men stared back, smiled and grudgingly responded to the toast.
‘At least Cranston is not corrupt. He has not sold his soul,’ Grindcobbe murmured. ‘Which is why I am here tonight, but I will come to that by and by. Now, to return to the Golden Oliphant. Naturally we were deeply concerned by Whitfield. He had taken our money, we wanted more information and were not happy about the prospect of him disappearing.’
‘Especially with the cipher?’
‘We needed that back. We certainly didn’t want Whitfield to translate it.’ Grindcobbe turned and glanced at Athelstan out of the corner of his eye. ‘They say Whitfield was found fully dressed as if about to leave?’
‘Yes.’
‘He was,’ Grindcobbe grinned. ‘He was supposed to leave the Golden Oliphant in the early hours and meet me.’
‘Why? Oh, of course,’ Athelstan answered his own question. ‘To return the cipher.’
‘Correct, but he failed to appear. We knew him to be a toper so we thought we would wait for another occasion.’
‘One small mystery is solved,’ the friar conceded. ‘I wondered why Whitfield was dressed in the early hours. So, in the end, he agreed to hand the cipher over?’
‘We threatened him. If he did, we would let him go, if he didn’t we would take action.’
‘So the cipher is important?’
‘Have you translated it?’
‘No, is that why you wanted this meeting?’
Grindcobbe shook his head, swilled the dregs of ale around his tankard, promptly drank them and refilled it. ‘The cipher is obviously important,’ he conceded. ‘It is related to what is about to happen. Do not worry, we will not search you or your house. You have undoubtedly made copies of it. Another little task performed in the Lamb of God.’ Grindcobbe leaned across the table and grasped Athelstan’s hand. He squeezed and let it go. ‘Brother, believe me, in a short while it will not matter. The day of wrath will soon be upon us.’
‘How soon?’
‘Within the week at the very most.’
Athelstan went cold. The room grew darker; even the candlelight seemed to dim at Grindcobbe’s sombre tone.
You are not lying, Athelstan thought. You are warning me.
‘Brother?’
‘I recall the words of the prophet Amos, Master Grindcobbe: “Israel, prepare to meet your God.” When, how will this all begin?’
‘As scripture says, Brother, it will come like a thief in the night and ye know not the day nor the hour.’
Athelstan took a deep breath. ‘So,’ he declared, ‘back to Whitfield and the Golden Oliphant. Desperate, wanting to escape, fleeing from his own master, hounded by you and Stretton. Who knows, perhaps he did commit suicide?’
‘No, no.’ Grindcobbe shook his head. ‘Whitfield was plotting to flee, but not only him – the villainous Odo Gray was also hired to take Mistress Elizabeth Cheyne, Joycelina and all their household out of London to the …’
‘All of them?’
‘Oh, yes. Think of the Golden Oliphant, Brother! You have only seen some of the chambers. Believe me, Mistress Cheyne has packed up her valuables and movables, or most of them. The Golden Oliphant was to be boarded up and left under the protection of hired ruffians. Mistress Elizabeth and her moppets would soon adjourn abroad. There is a profitable market for English flesh as well as English wool in Flemish towns, and, when the troubles were over, back she would return.’