The bishop of St. Andrew’s was not on the best of terms with his English brethren, but one of his secretaries, a young Franciscan, had an English mother. Calling Brother George to his privy chamber, James Kennedy explained the situation to him.
“If the lady wed her laird knowing the dispensation was being sought, there may be fraud on her side,” the young priest said. He was tall and slender with a tonsured head, pale skin, and fine dark eyes.
“She was honest with the laird’s priest. He vouched for my word in the matter,” James Kennedy said.
“ ’Twas bold of him to do so,” Brother George remarked.
Bishop Kennedy laughed. “Aye, it was, but Father Donald was once my chief secretary and greatest confidant. He knew how I would feel about the matter. Even if the dispensation were genuine, I should not honor it. A man attempting to marry his late son’s wife smacks of incest in my opinion. Disgusting!”
“Just what is it Your Grace requires of me, then?”
“Have you any contacts at Yorkminster, Brother George? We need to know if this Sir Udolf has a genuine claim on the Laird of Dunglais’s wife. There are bairns involved in this muddled matter. The laird’s son and heir chief among them. I would not have the wee lad declared bastard, nor the child the laird’s wife now carries,” the bishop said.
“I have a cousin who is a priest and serves at a church in York itself. He would surely know people within the cathedral precincts,” Brother George replied.
“Go to York, then, for me and learn the truth of this. I do not think the archbishop would give such a dispensation. While Sir Udolf sent his own priest to disburse bribes where he could, he has not the kind of monies that would be necessary for such an enormous favor. There is some wickedness afoot here, Brother George. Root it out for me, and then return to St. Andrew’s.”
Brother George departed St. Andrew’s and rode for Yorkminster. After several days he finally reached the walled city, entering it and seeking out St. Cuthbert’s Church. There he found his cousin, Father Henry, who greeted his relation warmly.
“I had heard you were in the service of the bishop of St. Andrew’s,” Father Henry said. His father and Brother George’s mother had been siblings.
“I am, and I have come discreetly for him in a matter that may involve Yorkminster. Queen Marie has requested of the bishop that he learn if a certain dispensation to wed had been issued by the archbishop or if said dispensation was fraudulent,” Brother George explained.
“What makes you think the dispensation was fraudulent?” Father Henry asked.
“It is said to allow a minor baron to marry his son’s widow,” Brother George said.
“Is she rich?”
“Nay, far from it I am told” was the reply.
“I have heard rumors of bribery among the archbishop’s minions,” Father Henry said. “Such a thing is not unheard of. And those without means and influence are apt to fall victim to the less than honest in the minster.”
“I’m certain the archbishop would not want a scandal, and the young woman involved is the goddaughter of Margaret of Anjou,” Brother George murmured.
“And she has no fortune? Are you certain?” Father Henry was surprised. A goddaughter of an English queen surely was a woman of wealth.
“She was the daughter of the queen’s physician. They were left behind at Wulfborn when the old king and his family fled north into Scotland. The physician died shortly after his daughter married the lord of Wulfborn’s son. Then the groom died. There were no other children, and the lord took it into his head to wed his son’s widow. She resisted and fled into Scotland. Her husband’s people found her almost dead on the moors. Nursed back to health, she caught the laird’s heart and they were wed. The laird had been a widower with one daughter. The child adores her stepmother, I have been told, and now there is a son and heir, and another child on the way.”
“The archbishop would never countenance a match between a father-in-law and his son’s widow,” Father Henry said. “I will gladly help you, Cousin, to get to the bottom of this matter.”
Brother George reached into his robes and drew out a small leather pouch. Taking a gold coin from it, he said, “My master would show his appreciation of your efforts with more than prayers. I can see your church needs certain repair, Cousin.”
Father Henry did not demur. He took the gold coin. “This will repair the steps to the sanctuary and buy us a pair of silver candlesticks,” he said. “I thank you, Cousin, and I thank your bishop. Come now and join me for supper.”
The English priest was as good as his word. He went personally to the cathedral and began making discreet inquiries. A cousin on his mother’s side was a nun and served as a housekeeper in the archbishop’s household. She was a small, plump woman with a motherly face. He took Brother George to meet Sister Mary Agnes.
When she had heard his story she said, “My master, the archbishop, would never countenance such a dispensation. I have heard rumors of certain chicanery among some of the lesser priests in the archbishop’s secretariat. I have a friend who can learn the truth of this matter for you,” Father Henry’s cousin said. “She will find out what has been going on.”
“She?Another nun?” Father Henry asked.
“She is not a nun,” Sister Mary Agnes replied. “She is a whore.”
“Cousin!”Father Henry exclaimed, surprised. “How is it you came to know a whore? I am shocked you would be acquainted with such a woman.”
“Do not be a ninny, Henry,” the nun said. “Whores serve a purpose, as do we all. And as whores go, Lettice is a respectable whore, and she keeps a quiet, respectable house. She has regular visitors, among them some of the priests from the archbishop’s secretariat. They come to futter her and remain to talk with her. She can ask questions without anyone being suspicious, for she is considered both damned and beneath contempt.”
“I don’t know,” Father Henry said slowly.
