‘Well, Sir Hugh, I’ve heard of you. What are you here for?’ Her bright button-black eyes studied his face. ‘You look cold and pinched. Have you eaten?’
Corbett smiled and nodded.
‘Would you like some wine?’
He shook his head.
‘Well, clerk, what is your business? Oh, by the way. .’ She popped another delicacy into her mouth and slurped noisily from the goblet. ‘I am expecting other visitors.’
‘Lady Idola, I will not keep you long. You were married to the merchant Adam Chauntoys; I think you know his history.’
‘Let me tell you, clerk,’ she settled herself more comfortably, ‘I sit here nursing my memories. Oh yes, I know all about my late husband’s. . how can I put it. . dealings with the King.’
‘Which were?’
‘Master Chauntoys was first married to Lady Alice, daughter of Sir Walter Plumpton. Lady Alice was born of a wealthy family; she was well educated but had the morals of an alley cat. She brought my late husband a large and generous dowry. He thought that the ceremony at the church door, the binding of hands and the swearing of eternal love, meant that Lady Alice would change her ways, but she did not. There wasn’t a young man in Cheapside who, if he caught her eye, didn’t share her bed. My husband put up with such strumpet behaviour for at least five years of their marriage. She gave him no son. He suspected she took medicine or potions to prevent herself conceiving. He did consider seeking an annulment from the Church. Of course Lady Alice’s family were powerful, and would fight such a slight to their honour, whilst Master Chauntoys was advised by canon lawyers that no grounds existed for annulment. The years passed. What should have been love turned into a deep, languishing hatred between them. My husband decided to go to Southampton on business. While he was absent, his wife was attacked by street brawlers and killed.’
‘But that wasn’t the truth of it,’ declared Corbett. ‘Your husband had been communicating with a murderer, a professional assassin known as the Mysterium. An agreement was reached that whilst Master Chauntoys was absent on business, Lady Alice would be killed. This was accomplished. The Mysterium then demanded payment. Your husband was told to go to a tavern, the Liber Albus in Southwark, bringing the blood money with him. However, neither your husband nor the Mysterium realised they were being hunted by a chancery clerk named Walter Evesham.’ Corbett paused at the rude sound Idola made with her lips. ‘Did you ever meet Walter Evesham?’
‘I knew of him, sir, and I’ve heard what has happened. Evesham has received his just deserts, disgraced, dismissed and murdered, all richly deserved.’
‘Why, mistress?’
‘He destroyed my husband. If it hadn’t been for his grace the King, Master Chauntoys would have ended his days on the common gallows at Smithfield.’
‘Evesham was simply doing his duty.’
‘He relished it.’
‘What did your husband say about it?’
‘I married my husband about a year after Lady Alice’s death. He was still very prosperous and eager to begin again. I accepted his proposal. I thought I could make him happy.’
‘And did you?’
‘We were more friends than lovers, a relationship resting on the firm foundations of fidelity and common sense. My husband, however was broken by Evesham’s discovery, and of course he had to face the truth. He was indeed party to his first wife’s murder. During the last year of his life he began to describe what really happened. I shall talk about him rather than the Lady Alice’s many sins. She’s gone to God and can answer for herself. My husband was desperately unhappy with her. He received a message, pushed into his hand, saying that his enemy was also the enemy of the anonymous sender, and if my husband wanted, that enemy could be no more. At the bottom of this scrap of parchment was a reference to St Paul, with two numbers. My husband, being a merchant, knew what that meant: the great hoarding at St Paul’s. Provoked, shamed by his wife as a public cuckold, Master Chauntoys decided to rid himself of her. He placed her name in the numbered square of the hoarding, and a short while later he received a message.’
‘How was that delivered?’
‘Again pushed into his hand. Sir Hugh, you are a royal clerk. You know how it is. My husband would attend the Guildhall; people would present petitions to him, as they would to you. This time the scrap of parchment simply had one name: Lady Alice. If my husband agreed to confirm that, he was to place her name in the stipulated square on the hoarding at St Paul’s. So he did. Oh yes,’ Lady Idola pointed her finger, ‘he did have business with the Merchants of the Staple in Southampton, and during his absence, Lady Alice was apparently attacked in the streets and killed. When he returned to London, he received another message with a reference to St Paul’s; when he went there, he found a note giving the time and place, the amount of money and where he was to leave it. My husband, to put it bluntly, was very relieved to be rid of Lady Alice. He hastened across to Southwark and waited in that tavern.’
‘Did he recognise anyone who came in?’
‘No he did not. The clerk Boniface Ippegrave, the man later accused of being the Mysterium, entered. He seemed-’
Corbett held up a hand. ‘Lady Idola, I must ask you to be precise. What did your husband actually say about him?’
‘I truly will,’ she snapped. ‘According to my husband, Boniface Ippegrave looked very confused, staring around, hand on his dagger. He kept glancing at a scrap of parchment. My husband did wonder if he was the Mysterium, but then Walter Evesham, followed by his creature Engleat and others, burst into the tavern. My husband and Boniface Ippegrave were seized. Adam could not defend himself. He held that scrap of parchment and a considerable amount of gold.’
‘But Boniface Ippegrave?’
‘He seemed totally shocked, very surprised, but then. .’
‘But then what?’
‘My husband, of course, was similarly distraught. He was under arrest. He knew what he had done. He faced the gallows. He glanced across at Ippegrave, but he had been taken aside by Evesham and they were deep in discussion. They all left the tavern, crossed London Bridge and walked up towards Cheapside, and my husband realised they were going to Newgate. Evesham was close to Ippegrave. Adam saw them argue, then Ippegrave apparently crouched down. The bailiffs stopped. The crowd milling around was hostile. It was then that Boniface Ippegrave escaped.
‘My husband was lodged in Newgate. He expected to go on trial, but then he received an offer of a pardon. If he confessed everything, divulged secrets about the machinations of the Guildhall and paid a most considerable fine, he’d be released. He agreed.’
‘How was this done?’
‘Evesham visited him in Newgate. He berated him, threatened him with torture and said he would ensure he’d hang very slowly at Smithfield. Then the King intervened. I understand his grace,’ Lady Idola’s words were tinged with sarcasm, ‘was concerned to discover how the Mysterium worked, and we all know the King.’ She bowed. ‘He is more interested in good silver and valuable information than in seeing a man dangle on the gallows.
‘After his release, my husband lived quietly. Sir Hugh, he did great wrong, but he was sorely provoked. He later went on pilgrimage to Canterbury. He crept to the cross every Good Friday. He was shrived, forgiven his sins, and did penance, but in the end he was a broken man. Only in the last year of his life did he begin to talk.’
‘Lady Idola, did he remark on anything extraordinary or remarkable about the day he was arrested?’
‘Yes, my husband learnt, as we all did, about Boniface Ippegrave: how he took sanctuary at St Botulph’s, his later disappearance. .’
‘And?’
‘To put it bluntly, he did not believe Boniface Ippegrave was the Mysterium.’