The Tarnished Chalice полностью

‘You refer to Canon Hodelston?’ asked de Wetherset. ‘Who held the Stall of Sleaford, and created a scandal when he announced in his first Chapter meeting that he had not been ordained?’

Bartholomew was mystified. ‘If he is not in holy orders, then how does he perform his religious duties at the cathedral? Conduct masses and the like?’

‘He appointed a Vicar Choral to do everything,’ explained Simon disapprovingly. ‘He took his vows eventually, but the appointment was a disgrace and it brought shame to the Chapter.’

‘His name was Hodelston?’ asked Suttone. He shot Simon a cool glance. ‘I may not live here, but my kinsmen keep me informed of certain people and events. I am not the stranger you imagine. However, the only Hodelston they mentioned to me was a very wicked fellow – accused of theft, rape, extortion and all manner of crimes – but the plague took him.’

Simon sniffed. ‘That is the man – as I said, his appointment was a disgrace. However, you are not right about the manner of his death. He died during the plague, not of it. He had a seizure with frothing mouth and rigid muscles. Some said it was poison. But few mourned his passing, least of all the Dean and Chapter.’

‘Hodelston is long-since dead, but the cathedral continues to make dubious appointments,’ said de Wetherset unhappily. ‘Flaxfleete will not make a good canon. He was accused of arson, and it was obvious that he only took holy orders when he thought he might be fined. The bishop refused to try him in the Church, though, which was a brave thing to do, and Flaxfleete was obliged to throw himself on Sheriff Lungspee’s mercy. I imagine bribes changed hands, because he was acquitted today.’

‘Flaxfleete?’ asked Bartholomew uncomfortably. ‘Kelby’s friend? He is the last canon?’

‘So that is what he meant, when he said he had a second item of good news to share with his friends,’ mused Michael. ‘He said it was something that would see more celebration. He must have been referring to his nomination as a prebendary.’

De Wetherset raised his eyebrows. ‘You have met Flaxfleete? I suppose I should not be surprised. The Guild of Corpus Christi is influential in Lincoln, and he is one of its founding members. The decision was made to install him a month ago, but nothing could be made official until this accusation of arson was resolved. So, he does indeed have two things to celebrate this evening.’

‘Sheriff Lungspee probably acquitted him to level the field after that business with Thoresby,’ said Simon. ‘Thoresby was guilty of threatening to behead Dalderby, and should not have been pardoned. So, because Lungspee favoured the Commonalty over the Guild in that case, he feels obliged to favour the Guild over the Commonalty now.’

‘Miller definitely bribed Lungspee to secure Thoresby’s release,’ said de Wetherset with pursed lips. ‘I heard three white pearls changed hands. So, Lungspee no doubt accepted a similar sum from Kelby to see Flaxfleete freed. Next time, it will be Miller’s turn again. That is one good thing about our sheriff: he is scrupulous about the order in which he allows himself to be corrupted.’

Simon turned to Suttone. ‘Have your informative kin told you about the dissent that is currently tearing our city apart?’ he asked unpleasantly. ‘Or is it something they neglected to mention?’

It was Michael who answered. ‘Of course we know about it. On one side there is the Commonalty, which seems to entail an unlikely liaison between a dozen very rich men and some unemployed weavers. And on the other there is the Guild of Corpus Christi, comprising about fifty merchants.’

Simon bristled at the contemptuous tenor of the summary. ‘I assume you know about the last mayoral election, too?’ he asked, still addressing Suttone. ‘You do not need me to explain what happened – why it made the dispute all the more bitter?’

‘He does not,’ said Michael, earning a pleased smirk from Suttone, who had no idea what Simon was talking about. ‘We know it was won by William de Spayne, since he currently holds the title.’

‘Spayne was delighted,’ said de Wetherset, apparently oblivious to the building tension between Simon and the Cambridge men, ‘because it means he is exempted from certain taxes. Kelby was running against him, and was livid when Spayne was announced the winner. Kelby thought he had won, you see. He had even been to a silversmith and commissioned a seal.’

‘They are all turbulent men,’ said Simon. ‘But I deplore the Guild’s sly campaign of slander against Miller. He may be vulgar, but I admire his generosity to weavers who cannot find work. The Guild does not care that folk starve for want of bread. Flaxfleete is particularly mean in that respect.’

‘Not any more,’ said Michael grimly. ‘He is dead.’