John decided it was wasting everyone's time to prolong this meeting and stood up to take his leave. 'I thank you for your frankness, prior. Perhaps you would allow me to have a few words with your cellarer and his assistant, now that we have come all this distance?'
Robert readily agreed, glad to see this law officer go on his way. He instructed his secretary to take them to Brother Philip, and a few minutes later they found themselves in a small room on the ground floor, adjacent to a series of chambers filled with a jumble of food, grain, furniture and all the oddments that were needed to keep the priory supplied with worldly goods.
The cellarer was a stout man, getting towards the end of his active life, and John suspected that Brother Philip rarely left his chair in the office, except to eat, sleep and worship.
The conversation with the prior was repeated almost word for word, and it was obvious to the coroner that the cellarer left almost everything to his lay assistant, especially over dealings with Axmouth. He even admitted that he had not visited the village for the past two years, being satisfied with scanning the parchment lists that Absalom brought up after his frequent trips.
'Is your valuable assistant here?' asked John with unintended irony.
The cellarer reached out across his cluttered table and picked up a brass bell of quite substantial size. 'He is usually within earshot of this!' he exclaimed and shook the ivory stem vigorously. The clangour made John wince and the noise must have been heard all over the priory. A few moments later the flopping of sandals was heard on the flagstones of the corridor and Brother Absalom appeared. When he saw the coroner and his clerk, he stopped dead in the doorway and stared, obviously taken aback.
'What are you doing here?' he asked suspiciously, ignoring any pretence at greeting or deferring to John's rank.
'We came to speak to your prior and the cellarer, but as you are now here we may as well have a word with you.' De Wolfe's tone was dismissive, as if he thought the man of little account.
'What about? If it's that nonsense in Axmouth, there's nothing to tell. You saw for yourself that everything there is in order.'.
'We saw some documents that tallied with the goods in the storehouses; but that's not necessarily the true state of affairs,' growled the coroner.
Absalom shrugged indifferently. 'They were good enough for me — and my cellarer and Prior Robert.'
Brother Philip looked anxiously from one face to the other. 'What's all this about? I know of no irregularities in this regard.'
John marked him down as a placid fellow looking forward to a quiet life in retirement in the priory and not wanting any trouble to rock his comfortable existence.
'These law officers have some strange notion that there is vice and corruption in our manor of Axmouth, Brother Philip. It has all arisen because of some drunken brawl amongst shipmen there, which ended in an unfortunate death. God knows why the coroner wants to blame the one on the other.'
'You forget the deaths of a Keeper of the King's Peace soon afterwards,' grated de Wolfe. 'And the killing of a pedlar nearby.'
'Nearby? They both died up towards Honiton. What has that to do with our manor?' Absalom's voice was strident with indignation, and John was hard put to decide whether it was feigned or real.
The cellarer lumbered to his feet, intent on defending his assistant. 'This is the first I've heard of all this; it is in a different county from Dorset. But I can assure you that the trading at Axmouth is conducted in the best traditions of both legality and honesty,' he said pompously. 'The dues we receive from the goods passing through the harbour are substantial and are very welcome in this house and in Normandy. If you have evidence that it is otherwise, then of course you must present it to us and we shall take action.'
This took the wind out of the coroner's sails, as he knew that there was nothing concrete that he could use to accuse anyone. After some minutes of acrimonious exchange, he admitted defeat and he beckoned Thomas to leave, offering a final veiled threat as they went.
'I would counsel you to impress on your assistant here that in future he had better be very careful in his dealings with the folk in Axmouth,' he boomed. 'The place is under close scrutiny by the sheriff and other officers, and any felonious behaviour is likely to end on the gallows!'
With this largely empty threat, they left to seek Gwyn and the horses. Absalom watched their departure through the shutters of a window in the cellarium, biting his lip in concern at this tenacious knight who seemed determined to catch them out in something.
The Sabbath passed and the new week brought a little activity to an otherwise quiet period for the county coroner. He had had no whisper of news from Polsloe and felt that yet another visit to pester Dame Madge or the prioress would be a waste of time, as they had promised to let him know if Matilda changed her mind about wishing to speak to him. He had asked Thomas to pen a short letter to his wife, the message being a rather formal request for her to let him know her intentions. He had sent it by a messenger and at least the boy had said that the sealed parchment had not been rejected at the priory, though no reply had been forthcoming.
The situation at the Bush remained cool but improved somewhat over the course of the next few days. Nesta's excuse about the 'time of the moon' held sway for a couple more nights, and John returned to his lonely bed in Martin's Lane, causing a few puzzled glances from Mary, who had thought that her master would have been taking full advantage of his wife's absence. '
Owain ap Gronow was not much in evidence in the tavern during the evenings that de Wolfe took his place by the firepit. John saw him a few times and received a pleasant smile and greeting, but he got the impression that the stonemason was being tactful and was keeping out of the way.
On Sunday night the pretty Welshwoman was more like her old self and cwched up comfortably against John's shoulder as he sat on his bench behind the wattle screen. That night they made the journey together up the loft ladder to her box-like room and made love in a gentle rather than passionate way. But afterwards she began crying softly into her pillow and refused to say what was wrong, even when he pleaded with her to tell him. All she would say between her tears was 'It's us, John. Just us! What's to become of us?'
When he awoke the next morning she had already risen, although it was so very early. Recalling the previous evening, he climbed sadly into his clothes and went down to the empty taproom. He found her in the cook-shed, busy making him a breakfast of honeyed gruel, pork sausages and fried onions. She smiled at him wanly and avoided him while she chivvied her two servants about domestic trifles. Eventually, she came and sat with him while he finished with barley bread and cheese. There seemed little new to say, so he filled the time by telling her of their plot to try to trap the pirates with a tale of a treasure ship. Though the true plan was a deadly secret, he knew he could trust her and, with the large number of patrons that passed through the Bush, her help in seeding the rumour would be of great use. Nesta also seemed relieved at having something to discuss apart from themselves and their intractable problems.
When he got up to Rougemont that Monday morning, Gwyn was ready for him with news of a fresh case.
'On the bloody horses again, I'm afraid,' he observed amiably. 'A fellow has turned up with news of a killing which needs our attention. Says he's the manor reeve from Ottery St Mary. They've found a man there stabbed at the side of the road.'