‘And that’s that, until the Consistory Court is convened next week,’ concluded John of Alençon later, over a flask of wine with his friend the coroner.
‘One thing puzzles me,’ replied de Wolfe. ‘His relationship with Ralph.’
De Wolfe told the whole story to Gwyn, Thomas and Nesta, when they were sitting at their table in the Bush on Saturday evening. The matter had been aired again that day in the Shire Hall, when John de Alençon, as Archdeacon of Exeter, had come to deliver his Bishop’s decision to the Justices.
‘Henry Marshal has done this to emphasise the Church’s independence of royal authority,’ commented the coroner sourly, ‘and I suspect he has used the opportunity to hint at his own partiality to Prince John by delivering a snub to King Richard in taking Adam out of the jurisdiction of his courts.’
‘I should have broken the bugger’s neck instead of his ribs when I pulled him off that ladder,’ grunted Gwyn. ‘It would have saved a lot of trouble.’
Nesta, resplendent in a new kirtle of fawn wool under her white linen apron, looked radiant and content, with her lover and friends around her. But she was rather hazy as to the outcome of this latest drama.
‘The Bishop refused to give this “Benefit of Clergy” to poor Thomas here,’ she said, ‘so why is this murderer so favoured? And what does it mean, anyway?’
‘Poor’ Thomas, as he seemed fated to be known from now on, provided her with an explanation himself, glad to be free of competition from the erudite Brother Rufus. ‘It’s existed for centuries in many countries, in one form or another — mainly to emphasise the Church’s superiority over kings and emperors, as the crowner said just now.’
‘It just seems a way of avoiding the harsh justice that the rest of us have to endure,’ objected Nesta.
Always a champion of his beloved Church, the clerk disagreed and explained further. ‘It doesn’t absolve priests from trial, but transfers their judgement to a different court. It had a great boost in England in old King Henry’s reign, when as part of his penance for having Thomas Becket killed’ — here he paused to make the Sign of the Cross — ‘he accepted the Church’s demand for recognition of Benefit of Clergy, which took them from the secular courts to the Bishop’s Consistory Court.’
‘So it’s entirely up to Henry Marshal what happens to this murdering bastard,’ grumbled Gwyn, wiping the ale from his moustache. ‘He can let him off if he wants to.’
‘It’s not that simple. The Consistory Court makes the final decision.’
‘Oh, come on! Who’s going to be brave enough to cross the Bishop, eh? He must already have some crafty scheme to deal with this madman.’
John was massaging Nesta’s thigh under the table, but he didn’t allow that pleasant pursuit to distract him from the conversation. ‘The Archdeacon told me that Henry Marshal is going to recommend that Adam be incarcerated in the Benedictine monastery of Mont St Michel in Normandy. It seems the Bishop is a friend of the Abbot there, and can ensure that the maniac works off his obsessions with hard labour for the rest of his life, carrying building stones up the mount for the new church on top. I think he’d probably prefer to be hanged.’
Thomas’s forgiving nature allowed him to feel a twinge of pity for Adam. He crossed himself again and said, ‘At least he’ll be near Dol, his birthplace, which is within sight of Mont St Michel.’
Nesta’s forehead wrinkled in thought. ‘I’ve heard somewhere that even men who are not really priests have been given this Benefit of Clergy. Can that be true?’
Again Thomas was the fount of knowledge. ‘It can happen, especially to those clerks in minor orders who can read but who are not yet ordained. The usual test is to give them the Vulgate and see if they can read the first sentence of the fifty-first Psalm — “Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy loving kindness — according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.” ’
‘That bit of the Psalms is famous,’ observed the coroner. ‘It’s known as the “neck verse” because it’s saved many a cleric from the rope — and some who weren’t even in Orders of any kind!’
Gwyn snorted his disdain. ‘I could learn that off by heart, without being able to read.’
‘Maybe you better had — it might come in useful, in case you tumble any more priests out of their bell-towers,’ said de Wolfe, with a grin.
Nesta, having been further from the dramatic events of the past week or so, had a wider perspective of the whole affair and could see gaps in the story.
‘Why did Adam start on this mad crusade — and why at this particular time?’ she wondered aloud.
John shrugged, as the same question had bothered him. ‘Who can fathom the mind of someone as possessed as he was? As to the timing, I think the imminent arrival of the Justices triggered it. Maybe he wanted to show that his own brand of God-given retribution was more effective than man-made laws.’
‘Did he kill at random, d’you think?’ asked the Welshwoman.
‘He must have chosen his victims in advance,’ de Wolfe replied, ‘as he had to find appropriate texts. He seems to have put their faces on the wall of his church later, as he hadn’t got around to mine, unless he was about to add it when we caught him up that ladder.’
The others were silent for a moment, then Thomas asked, ‘How did he manage never to be seen at any of his killings? He was hardly a skinny wraith like me,’ he added.
‘Apart from the attack on Justice Serlo, they were all at dead of night and this city is hardly well lit,’ replied John. ‘A priest with his black robe and cowl is virtually invisible after dark, and if he’s challenged by the constables, he always has the excuse that he’s going to some church for Matins or to give the Last Offices to the dying.’
Gwyn agreed. ‘He’s lived in Exeter for years, and must know every lane and alleyway. I suppose he stalked his victims and struck when the best opportunity arose.’
‘He certainly stalked me to good effect!’ said John, pointing ruefully to his head. His turban-like bandage was gone, but he still had a very sore spot on his scalp.
Swallowing the last of his ale, de Wolfe prepared to leave. He had spent precious little time at home this past week and wished to avoid damaging Matilda’s fairly benign mood. She had been relieved that events had concealed her brother’s folly in Waterbeer Street and also that her own niggling doubts about Julian Fulk had been dispelled. In addition, the public acclamation of her husband’s success in unmasking the Gospel killer had significantly notched up her standing within her social circle — especially since another feast for the Justices, this time at Rougemont, had given her another opportunity to display both her finery and her famous husband.
As John stood up, he put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. ‘I spoke to your uncle when he was at the court today. He’ll no doubt talk to you himself, but it seems that the Bishop is a little conscience-stricken at refusing you Benefit of Clergy when you were in such dire trouble and then proved innocent. He has hinted that he might withdraw his objections to your eventual return to Holy Orders.’
The clerk’s face lit up as if a shaft of sunlight had struck it. Tears appeared in his eyes and he clutched at the sleeve of his master’s tunic. ‘God preserve you, Crowner! But even if I am restored, I will remain your clerk for a long while yet. You may again need someone who can interpret the scriptures for you!’