The Clerkenwell Tales, Peter Ackroyd [sight word readers txt] 📗

Someone knelt down beside him. He sensed unease and sin. What man was this, for whom Henry’s guards had made way? He turned, and recognised Miles Vavasour; the sergeant-at-law had worked on behalf of Bolingbroke in several pressing matters of feoffment and jointure.

“I am in great heaviness, father. I am alone as I was born.”

“Do you wish to give me words in secreta confessione?”

“Yes. May my last hour be my best hour.”

“Benedicite fili mi Domine.” Before he heard his confession, he pulled his hood over his eyes. “Is your repentance unfeigned?”

“It is, father.”

“Are you consumed with sorrowfulness that you are such a damnable sinner?”

“I am.”

“Do you believe that Christ will forgive you and receive you into mercy?”

“I do.”

“And furthermore do you promise to offer satisfaction and make amends by doing holy works unto God?”

“Yes, father.”

“Then confess, my son, with contrite heart.”

“Oh most holy and devout father,” Vavasour bowed his head, “I have been homely and familiar with evil men.” The sergeant then told the parson about the activities of the predestined men. He told him of their leader, William Exmewe, the sub-prior of St. Bartholomew. He claimed that he had previously said nothing, for the sake of his friendship with Exmewe. He made no allusion, however, to the assembly known as Dominus, which had stirred up unrest and sacrilege to snatch the new king’s victory.

When he had travelled to Westminster Hall that morning, to take part in the debate, Vavasour had no intention of confessing. But he had been stopped outside the chapter-house by the clerk, Emnot Hallyng, who had run beside his horse and shouted to him, “You are taken with enemies you cannot see.”

He reined in his horse. “How is this?”

“I swear that the matter of this information is true, Sir Miles. One man is casting a plot against you.”

“Are you in earnest or in game?”

“In deathly earnest.”

“Which man is it you speak of?”

“William Exmewe.”

“Exmewe? He is –”

“One of your confederacy? I suspected so.”

As the sergeant dismounted, Emnot Hallyng silently made the connection between Exmewe and the men who met in the round tower.

“Companionship is no vice,” Vavasour was saying. “And in every proof there must be two witnesses at the least.”

“You are deep in law, I know, but the truth is deeper. Exmewe has asked me to encompass your death with poison. He does not trust you to keep his secreta secretorum.”

“The lion always sits in ambush.”

“He is no lion. He is the smiler with the knife under his cloak. He has dark imaginings. I know him.”

“Tell me this. Are you one of the foreknown men?”

“Do you know about us?” The sergeant-at-law nodded very quickly. “This is all Exmewe’s contriving. He has played both the hands.”

Emnot Hallyng now knew what he had before suspected: Exmewe had been leading the predestined men into a trap, at the behest of certain high men, and he would very soon betray them. The clerk feared for himself, too. Exmewe was no doubt planning to have him taken up after the murder of Vavasour. Exmewe himself would play checkmate.

“Answer me another question.” Vavasour was very grim. “Why does Exmewe contrive my death?”

“He suspects some bond between you and one Gunter, a leech and a gabbler.”

“But the leech is dead.”

“What? How so?”

“He was found within the Fleet. Stabbed foully.”

“His spirit has changed house?”

“Is that what your new men say?” The sergeant did not wait for an answer. “The one who maimed him has fled. There is no trace.”

“Believe me, sir, this is Exmewe’s doing. He will try to attach this stabbing to you. You have five wits. Use them. He plans to destroy you, and this death will continue his purpose marvellously.”

It was then that the sergeant, fearful for his life, decided to betray Exmewe to Henry Bolingbroke’s confessor.

He could not expect an audience with Henry himself, so soon after his seizure of power; but Ferrour could be asked to pass on his report by word of mouth. William Exmewe would then be arrested, with the other predestined men. Vavasour might even earn merit from the new king by uncovering the confederacy of the foreknown; thus Dominus would remain hidden under the leaf, in which secure place the king would no doubt prefer it to be kept.

“Wherefore I pray you as heartily as I can,” the sergeant murmured to Ferrour, who had just heard his confession, “that you will diligently take heed of my words, and send to our good lord Henry my plain sayings. I trust to God in the great confusion and shame of all these false judging and miscreant persons.”

“I shall share your information with my good lord, and with God’s grace he will so deal with them that they shall not all be well pleased. At such a time a king must know his friends and his foes asunder.”

“Surely.”

“These things I will to no man utter but to him. But what of you, Miles Vavasour?”

“I end it thus, since I can do no more. I give it up for now and evermore.”

“And do you repent?”

“I repent me heartily that in times past I have groped after a wrong way, dark, crooked, hard and endless.”

“Do you speak as a true and faithful man?”

“You may hang me by the heels if it be not so.”

“So may you still reach the everlasting bliss of heaven.”

“That is worth more than a penny.” The sergeant was greatly relieved, and with some difficulty rose from his knees.

“Yet it may well be likened to a penny for the roundness that betokens everlastingness, and for the blessed sight of the king’s face that is upon the penny.” He stopped for a moment. “Our coming king, at the least.”

“How does his grace?”

“I have not seen him since he was acclaimed. But be comfortable. After I have talked with him, I will send you word how the world is set.” The parson seemed to sigh at the way of that world as he, too, rose from his knees. “Beware how you walk in the city. And have fellowship