It hadn’t been easy to start with. The boy had been tough to persuade. In fact, the first thing Augerus had wheedled him into doing was to take a little rosary of Augerus’ own, which he had loaned Brother Mark, with the promise that it would make Mark laugh. And it did, for Augerus played a little with Mark, making a wager that he had lost it. When Mark couldn’t find it, Augerus made up a story about how Mark had dropped it from his habit, and Augerus had seen it fall and picked it up again. Easy. It allayed Mark’s concerns when Augerus refused to allow him to honour the wager, thereby convincing the salsarius that all was well, while at the same time demonstrating to Gerard that taking things could be fun.
Next it had been a loaf of bread. That wasn’t so difficult. There were plenty of them, and one thing that could be guaranteed about acolytes was that they were always hungry. Too much food, it was thought, made a lad drowsy and ruined his concentration. It had been easy to tell Gerard that the baker had bet no one would dare to take one of his loaves, and that no one could break in through the bars over his windows. As soon as Gerard heard that, he had willingly agreed to prove him wrong.
Then, Augerus said, the baker refused to believe that one had gone. He told the Steward that he was lying, and what could Augerus do? Obviously he must prove it beyond a doubt. So Gerard must, for a joke, steal three more loaves: one for himself, one for Augerus, and one for the baker. That would convince him. And if the baker still doubted, why, Gerard could climb in there right before his eyes!
Gerard had thought this a great lark. He laughed delightedly when Augerus explained the cunning plan. Gerard climbed up through the window again, with Augerus, and passed the loaves to him through the bars; afterwards, he had squeezed himself out again. Chuckling quietly, he scampered back to Augerus’ chamber, giggling to himself at the thought of the baker’s face when he saw the three loaves gone.
Except when they got back to Augerus’ room, the Steward ate a half loaf and persuaded Gerard to eat another. The acolyte balked at first, but then his hunger got the better of him and he set to. And as he finished his meal, Augerus told him the truth.
‘I think we’d better keep this secret between us, boy.’
‘Between us and the baker, you mean.’
‘No, between us alone. I wouldn’t want to see you thrown out of the Abbey, or dumped on the Scilly Isles, far from anyone and with only pirates in your congregation.’
The poor dolt had stared at him as if he was mad. ‘Why should that happen to me? I’ve done nothing wrong!’
‘You have stolen bread from the mouths of beggars.’
‘But you told me to! It’s for a joke!’
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? But I forgot to let the baker in on the joke, I am afraid, so you see, you are a thief. And that will mean you’ll be punished.’
That was the difficult moment. Augerus had done this before, and he knew that as the bait was snapped up, the fish could slip off the hook and run off. Some had done so before. They had stood up to him and stared him down, threatening to go straight to the Abbot and denounce him. To his credit, Gerard tried that, but when he did, Augerus merely laughed.
‘Fine, my cocky. You tell him anything you like. And I shall tell him that I caught you stealing from the baker. And that I caught you stealing my rosary from Brother Mark, but that I concealed your crime because I thought I could help you come to a state of grace. We’ll see whom it is the Abbot trusts most. An acolyte, or his favoured Steward.’
After that it had been easy. For a share of the rewards, the boy had stolen any little trinkets he was told to. His nimble fingers and sharp wits meant that there was a steady stream of goods arriving at Augerus’ door. And as soon as they arrived, they were parcelled up and pushed out through the little window that gave onto the orchard, where Wally would collect it and convey it to Joce. Never too much, only small items, and only ever just after a large service with many people, so that it would be impossible to guess who might have been the thief. That was the way of it.
But the little devil was gone now. And Wally was dead. Well, Augerus sighed, Wally was unreliable, had been for a while. In a way, it was a good thing he was gone.
Augerus was out in the court now, and was about to make for Mark’s room when he saw Joce standing red-faced outside, gesticulating with a kind of restrained fury.
He groaned inwardly. He could still feel the pressure of Joce’s hand on his throat. It was only then that the realisation hit him: Joce was supposed to be on his way to Exeter with a sackload of pewter.
‘God’s Blood! What the hell are you doing here still?’ he whispered as soon as they had slipped down an alley.
‘You bastard! You set him up to do it, didn’t you?’ Joce grated, pulling the monk towards him by his habit.
‘Get off me, you cretin! Who – and to do what?’
Suddenly Augerus heard a rasp of metal and felt a point at his belly. ‘What the…’
‘Where is it? Come on – tell me! Wally didn’t have it. Gerard didn’t run away with it, did he? Have you got it?’
Joce had spent an angry, bitter night. Tossing and turning, wondering where his plate was, where his servant was, he was wild-eyed and more than a little mad-looking. It was a miracle he hadn’t exploded from anger. The shits, the devious, lying, thieving bastards, whoever they were, had taken all his money. That was what the metal meant to him: money! He needed it to conceal the amount he had stolen from the town’s accounts over the last year, and it was gone. It made him want to spit with fury, or stab and slash and kill everyone who might have taken it.
‘Where is it?’ he demanded again through gritted teeth.
‘How do you know Wally and Gerard haven’t–’
‘If Wally had it, it’d be back here in the Abbey by now, wouldn’t it? And a boy running away carrying a large sack of pewter? He wouldn’t get far, would he? No, I think someone else must have it. And if you don’t squeak soon, you’ll be squeaking all the louder!’
Augerus could feel that terrible point screwing one way and another, gradually grinding forwards through his habit. ‘Stop! I don’t even know what pewter you mean.’
‘Everything from my cupboard. It’s all gone.’
‘But…’ Augerus gaped. The sudden movement at his gut made him gabble quickly. ‘Look, I don’t have it. I couldn’t break into your room if I wanted to! Only Gerard could have done that. Your hall is locked, isn’t it? Who else could get in?’
‘Where has he put it, then?’
‘How should I know? Maybe he had an accomplice, who hid it himself?’
Joce gasped angrily. ‘Bloody Art!’
‘What?’
‘My servant. He hasn’t come home. It must have been him stole my stuff. Thieving shit! When I find him, I’ll make him eat his own tarse! I’ll hamstring him and make him crawl, the bastard! I’ll cut out his liver and eat it! I’ll–’
‘Where is he?’
‘What?’
‘This Art – where is he? If he has the pewter, he can’t have gone far, can he?’
Joce felt as though a cloud had passed and suddenly the sun was shining full on him. ‘Of course – I know where the bastard will be! Come on!’
‘I can’t. I must be ready to serve the Abbot his midday meal.’
‘He can wait.’
‘You can kill me now, if you want. That will alert people to your guilt. Or you can force me to come with you, I suppose, but how would I explain my absence to the Abbot? If I am caught, I…’ Augerus thought about threatening Joce, but the point of the knife was too noticeable. ‘… I cannot help you again, can I? It’s better that I stay inside the Abbey and you go to find this fellow.’