The Tarnished Chalice

‘To inconvenience men who have business with him,’ said Kelby. ‘God bless them for it.’

‘And because we are good, honest guildsmen,’ added Flaxfleete. ‘But Spayne is a member of that vile coven of rich merchants known as the Commonalty.’

‘I do not understand,’ said Michael. When he saw the monk’s interest had been piqued by the two men’s odd remarks, Bartholomew sighed and gave up his attempt to cut the discussion short.

‘All decent, respectable traders are members of the Guild of Corpus Christi,’ explained Kelby patiently. ‘Meanwhile, all corrupt ones belong to a council known as the Commonalty.’

‘Damn them to Hell,’ added Flaxfleete viciously. ‘So, we and Spayne are enemies, and have been for years. Fortunately, the Guild has more than fifty members, but the Commonalty is only twelve. However, these dozen hold a disproportionate degree of power, and the unemployed weavers favour them because they give charity. One is Adam Miller, you see.’ He regarded them with pursed lips.

‘Lord!’ said Michael, pretending to be shocked. He was amused by the way the merchants kept assuming strangers should know all about their city. ‘Not Adam Miller!’

‘The very same,’ said Kelby gravely. ‘The whole town is afraid of him and his devious ways – except the weavers, of course. And Spayne is his man.’

‘Spayne is a criminal?’ asked Bartholomew doubtfully. He did not think Matilde would have embarked on a friendship with a man who indulged in illegal activities; she was a woman of considerable integrity.

‘Yes, and so is Miller,’ said Kelby firmly, leaning so hard against Flaxfleete that the man dropped his cup. ‘We are a divided city: the Guild and the cathedral stand for everything good, and the Commonalty represents everything bad. Every honest soul is terrified of Miller.’

Michael was puzzled. ‘But I understand a man called Adam Miller finances Miller’s Market. He cannot be all bad.’

Flaxfleete waved a dismissive hand. ‘As I said, he is popular among unemployed weavers, but we guildsmen and our people are not deceived by his so-called largess.’

‘You wear a priest’s robes, yet it sounds as though you were tried by a secular court,’ said Michael to Flaxfleete, intrigued both by the merchants and their chatter. ‘Why? You could have claimed benefit of clergy and been subject to more lenient Canon law.’

‘Because I took holy orders after the arson incident, and Bishop Gynewell declined to judge me,’ said Flaxfleete. It was clear he thought the decision an unreasonable one. ‘He said he did not wish to become embroiled in the city’s dispute, especially since the buildings I happened to incinerate belonged to my deadly enemy: Spayne.’

‘And there is the fact he would not be the first to take holy orders to avoid secular punishment,’ muttered Bartholomew to Cynric. ‘If that was allowed to happen, every felon in England would wear a habit.’

‘Most do anyway,’ replied Cynric. He had scant respect for clerics.

‘But it was our turn to win a trial presided over by Sheriff Lungspee, in any case,’ slurred Kelby. ‘Especially after what happened to poor Dalderby.’

‘And what was that?’ asked Michael.

‘A villainous rogue called Thoresby threatened to chop off his head,’ explained Flaxfleete indignantly. ‘It will not surprise you to learn that Dalderby is a guildsman, and Thoresby belongs to the Commonalty. It was obvious that Thoresby was guilty, but Lungspee pardoned him anyway. It was shameful! Miller certainly bribed Lungspee to get him released. Here comes the wine at last.’

‘You did not say why you wanted to see Spayne,’ said Kelby, lurching to one side to allow a sweating youth to enter his house with a barrel. ‘If it is wool business, then you should deal with me instead – and I will even give you a cup of claret while we discuss terms.’

‘It is not wool business,’ said Michael. ‘Although I understand wool is what made Lincoln rich.’

‘It did,’ acknowledged Flaxfleete. ‘But times have changed, and we are all suffering from cheap foreign imports – except Spayne, who has trading rights in the upstart port of Boston. Damn him – and damn them, too! Boston is killing Lincoln, and he encourages it.’

‘You should go sparingly with that,’ advised Michael, pointing at the keg. ‘My friend here visited France this year, and he says the grape harvest was poor. That claret might make you sick.’

Kelby tried to focus on the barrel, screwing up his face as he did so. ‘Well, I have had more than enough for today, so perhaps I will abstain.’

‘I have not,’ said Flaxfleete, clapping a comradely hand on his shoulder. ‘I intend to make this a night to remember – my acquittal and the other good news.’

‘What other good news?’ asked Kelby, trying to focus on him.

Flaxfleete grinned. ‘I am saving that to announce later, but you will be delighted, I assure you. We shall be celebrating all night, and I mean to drink until I can no longer stand.’

‘My students do that,’ said Bartholomew disapprovingly. ‘But they are sixteen. An excess of wine leads the black bile to-’