Just as Henry had too. He felt that he had a reciprocal responsibility for Estmund.
Reginald stared. ‘Look, Jordan, I don’t know how to get hold of a man to do something like that, and I’m not sure I’d want to, even if I could. It’s a serious-’
‘Don’t say “affair”,’ Jordan le Bolle said. ‘This is just business, after all. We have to stop this man.’
He was tall, with the calm assurance of a man who knew that he would get his way. That was a mark of his position and controclass="underline" he always got what he wanted. His eyes were calm and unworried. There was never any need for him to be anxious, after all. There was no one in the city whom he need fear.
Such was not Reg’s own state of mind at that moment. Reg was filled with an overwhelming dread. At any moment, he felt sure, the other person who used that door would knock and enter, ready to throw herself into Reg’s arms or onto his bed. It was truly appalling. Reg knew that his partner was perfectly capable of murdering people — it had been necessary when they had first got to know each other, and the years had not altered the reality of their relationship.
‘Killing him would not be easy, Jordie,’ Reg said feebly. He didn’t hold out much hope for an argument of that nature. Jordan was too adept at debating his position. Reg had known that from the first moment.
‘Any man will fall when he’s hit hard enough in the right place.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You’ve had practice.’
Jordan smiled. ‘And we’ve both benefited, haven’t we?’
Reg hated to see that easy grin. It was as though Jordie didn’t care about any other lives. Sometimes Reg wondered whether he’d even miss Reg. Perhaps he’d shed a couple of tears, but there was no guarantee that they’d be genuine. Then he caught sight of the expression in Jordan’s eyes.
‘We’ve lived this long without having to kill him, Jordie. Why risk everything now?’ His thin smile felt more like a grimace.
Jordan le Bolle ignored the interruption. ‘Yes, we’ve both benefited. I’ve taken many risks to bring in our profits, Reg. Now it’s time you helped. I think Daniel is getting too close to me. Far too close. There’s a risk that soon he’ll throw caution to the winds and try to take us on properly. And you know what that would mean, don’t you? If he comes in and stops our work, it’ll be the end of our easy life. The end of all this,’ he said, waving a hand nonchalantly at the chamber, encompassing the hall, the wine, the food …
But it wasn’t only that. Reg knew he was including everything, the chamber in which he slept, the bed where Michael lay sleeping … Michael himself, even. Reg felt a cold, clammy sensation about his breast, as though his own destiny was pressing a firm hand over his heart. His blood was racing already; this additional feeling was enough to make him feel slightly sick.
‘Jordie, I don’t see why we have to kill him now. It’s just a-’
‘Because I have warned him. I told him, Reg. I said that if he didn’t leave me alone, I would destroy him. I said I would kill his children and his wife and him.’
‘All of them?’
‘He even told his wife. Can you imagine that?’ Jordan frowned. ‘I wouldn’t tell my bitch about business like that. Why would he have told her?’
‘Jordan, there’s no need to kill them. We’re all right still. There’s no need to hurt any of them. Maybe we can leave things as they are.’
‘If we do nothing, Reg, all this would be at risk. Consider that.’ Jordan stood and eyed him, but this time it was not the friendly look of an old comrade and partner, it was the cold, intimidating stare which Reg had seen him use on others when he was about to strike. ‘All our profits from the cathedral, all the money from the whores, it could all be at risk. Think of that; consider it well. We must act.’
John returned to the friary as night drew in, and quietly made his way to his cell, where he sat on the little stool at the table under his window. The window was too high in the wall and too small to see anything, even a glimpse of the sky. No distractions, that was the founding principle of his Order, and he was more than pleased with it. The lack of property of any sort, the lack of interruptions, these were essential. It meant that he could spend his time praying and trying to help others to see how they themselves might add to the glory of God.
Not a young man any more, at some fifty years or so, John had become a friar as soon as he had felt the power of God’s word, and he flattered himself that it was in no small measure a reflection of his own efforts that the Order was so widely accepted here in Exeter. He had persuaded people to give their money to the house; he’d managed to convince others that if they wanted to win eternal life, especially if they had been wealthy in this one, they would have to aid the Order in its work. For if a man did nothing to assist the poor and the needy, how could he hope to win rewards in Heaven?
The only means of saving themselves was to give … to the fullest extent of their power. They must give up all, and make it over to the Dominicans. Not that the Dominicans owned property or treasure, but they required money to continue their work. And John had always been one of the men most competent at acquiring new gifts.
He had known from the beginning that his duty was to help as many men as possible to see that their route to personal salvation lay through the offices of the Dominicans. And to that end, he had sought out the rich and elderly without issue. Men with families would naturally wish to ensure that their children were not impoverished, but those with none … well, it made sense for them to look to the benefit of the Dominicans.
That was why John was the most efficient fundraiser in the priory. It was for that reason that Sir William de Hatherleigh was even now lying on a palliasse in a cell not far away. It was a measure of John’s skills at persuasion that Sir William was determined to remain here, not only now while he prepared for death, but later, when he was dead.
And this to John seemed an ideal situation. Sir William was one of the wealthiest men in the city. Holding his funeral and burying him here in the friary would produce welcome funds.
Of course there were obstacles: the ridiculous monopoly on burials which the cathedral insisted upon upholding, for example, but John was sure that there would be ways round that. After all, the Bishop would hardly want another fight with the Order. On the last occasion, it had taken Bishop Walter four or five years to calm the situation down again. John knew that. And he knew that this particular battle was one he could — he must — win.
He was looking forward to it with relish.
Daniel was exhausted that evening. The efforts of his day had included a sharp ride over to Bishop’s Clyst with two sergeants to try to help a posse catch two felons, the remainder of the morning in his chamber with two clerks trying to make sense of old records and attempting to twist them to the advantage of the city, and then another ride to the north, beyond the Duryard, to see whether he could use his good offices to mediate between two bickering landlords. He was back in time for a fight outside a tavern, and here his patience finally ran out.
It was old Ham atte Moor again. He’d drunk far too much as usual, and then started picking fights with everyone. Knocked down the innkeeper, then tried to do the same to the sergeants when they arrived. By the time Daniel got there, he’d managed to nick one of the officers with his knife, and there was a small but respectful crowd of men all about him, while women stood outside the ring, egging them on.
‘What’s going on here?’ Daniel demanded as he arrived on the scene.
It was the last thing he needed, truth be told. The events of the day had taken their toll, and now he was tired, desiring only a good pot of wine and some meats before going off to his bed. He had no wish to be stuck here soothing an old drunk who’d taken more than he should again.