“It would take at least five more of those coins,” Father Walter said slowly, and he reached for the gold coin.
Brother George palmed the gold coin. “Three and first your guarantee you can get the process started. And I must have the documents within seven days.”
“Seven days!” the dishonest priest exclaimed. “It is not possible!”
“Then I will find someone else within the precincts of Yorkminster who can supply me with what I want within the time period,” Brother George said, standing up. “A pity. Lettice said she enjoyed your company greatly. But as long as there are tavern whores, your itch can be scratched, eh?” He turned to walk away.
“Wait!For six gold coins I can make your request possible,” Father Walter said.
“Four, no more,” Brother George replied in a hard voice.
“Done!” Father Walter said, and he caught the gold coin the Franciscan tossed him with a skilled hand.
“A down payment,” Brother George said. “I will meet you here in seven days, Good Father. If you try to cheat my master, I will kill you.”
Chapter 15
Father Walter watched as the two other priests turned without another word and departed the dark tavern. And then he realized Brother George had not given him the name of his master or the unfortunate wife. But no matter. The names could be quickly inserted. Four gold coins! He rolled the coin he had been given about his hand. He had never had a gold coin in all his life. Most of his victims paid him with silver and copper. He was rich! Or would be when he collected the other three coins. He was tempted to go and visit Lettice, but he decided it would be foolish for her to learn of his good fortune. She might want a fee for having directed Brother George to him. He was not of a mind to share his gold with a whore. Even a whore as fine as Lettice. Stuffing the coin in his pocket, he hurriedly left the tavern. He had much work to do if he was to finish the required documents within seven days.
Some minutes ahead of the dishonest priest Brother George and Father Henry walked back to St. Cuthbert’s. The hour was late and the streets dark. Father Henry carried a lantern that lit their way. Thieves lingering in the shadowed alleys and doorways remained where they were as they saw the two men were clerics. Priests never had any coin or other valuables about them, and they could damn a man’s soul to hell if attacked. Here in York that was a serious deterrent to robbing a man of God.
Father Henry’s small house was behind his church on the other side of a garden. Entering it, the two men found a plate with cold meat, bread, and cheese, along with a pitcher of ale left by one of the women of the parish. They prayed over the food, ate it, prayed again, and went to bed. Both men arose several short hours later to say the Mass. Both heard early confessions and then broke their fast with a hot oat porridge brought in by one of the women of the parish. Then together they walked to Yorkminster to see Sister Mary Agnes. Inviting them into the archbishop’s garden, she inquired as to what they had learned. “Was Lettice truthful?”
“She was indeed,” Brother George replied. “This priest is a greedy fool, and the sight of gold was enough to convince him to do our bidding.”
“You should have heard the tale my cousin told,” Father Henry chuckled, and then went on to enlighten the nun. “At one point I almost believed him myself.”
Sister Mary Agnes gave a little chuckle herself as she listened to Father Henry. “I would say you will go far in the secretariat of St. Andrew’s,” she observed.
“Should one not be as ambitious for God as others?” Brother George asked.
She reached out and patted his arm soothingly. “I do not criticize, Brother. I am actually admiring of your skills. In my convent we have several women like you. They will serve God in a far higher capacity than I ever will housekeeping for the archbishop. Some days I envy them, and then I pray to our Lord for his forgiveness for that sin.”
“We all have our gifts,” Father Henry murmured.
“You will serve God’s greater good helping us to rid your master of this dishonest priest who eats like a poison at the holiness of York,” Brother George said. “Can you aid us in gaining the archbishop’s ear, Good Sister?”
“I can,” she said, without hesitation. “Come with me.”
They followed the nun through the beautiful garden, and as they rounded the corner of a tall green hedge they saw a man seated upon a small stone bench in seeming meditation. He wore a simple dark robe, but about his neck hung a large jeweled cross, the symbol of his office. Quietly they stood before him, waiting to be recognized, and then finally the archbishop of York looked up.
“Yes, Sister Mary Agnes, what is it?” he said in a quiet voice.
“Your Grace, this is Father Henry from St. Cuthbert’s by the walls. And his cousin, Brother George. They need to speak privily with you.”
“How is it you know these men?” the archbishop asked her.
“We are all cousins, Your Grace,” the nun answered, simplifying the relationships.
The archbishop nodded his understanding, then said, “Very well, Good Fathers. What is it you need speak with me privily about?”
“There is a dishonest priest among those serving in your secretariat who has caused a great deal of difficulty for some and continues to do so,” began Brother George.
The archbishop stiffened slightly. “You are a Scot,” he said warily.
“I am, Your Grace, and I am in service to the bishop of St. Andrew’s,” Brother George responded with a polite bow. “Queen Marie requested a boon from my master, and I have been sent to York to expedite the matter.”
The archbishop nodded. “Say on, Good Brother. As we all serve the same God, I will hear what you have to say. Would that James Kennedy understood that as well.”
