The Captive Heart (44 page)

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.

“I do,” Brother George spoke up. “I would be grateful for your help, Sister Mary Agnes, and for that of your friend.”

“She will want to be paid something for her trouble,” the nun murmured.

“If she gains me the information I need, she will be well rewarded,” Brother George promised, “and, of course, there will be something for your convent too.”

Sister Mary Agnes smiled, saying, “You are most generous, Brother.”

The whore, Lettice, knew immediately who it was who had elicited bribes from Sir Udolf. Eager to impress the whore, he had told her, for he had never before had the monies to ride between her legs and had been desperate to do so. “His name is Father Walter,” she told Brother George. “He enjoyed bragging to me how he had fooled the country priest and his master. He managed to make them pay him thrice before he wrote the document and used the archbishop’s seal on it. But my testimony in the matter will not be heard, for not only am I a woman, I am a whore. I will be punished for slandering a priest and my possessions forfeit. I am not young anymore, and I have more than I ever dreamed of having. I will tell you the truth, but I will not endanger myself by accusing any priest.”

“You will not have to,” Sister Mary Agnes assured her friend. “They have the name of the priest now. Let them get him to confess to his misdeeds. When they have, you will be rewarded.”

Lettice smiled, eying Brother George lasciviously. “Father Walter usually frequents a low tavern near the walls next to the main gate of the city,” she told them. “He is there almost every evening after Vespers. He can no longer afford to lie with me, and the tavern wenches are always willing for a ha’penny or a penny to lift their skirts. He has a mighty appetite for a little man,” she noted. “You’ll know him right away. He is short, wiry, with dark eyes that are always darting here and there for fear of missing something.”

The two priestly cousins went to the tavern in question that same evening. The tavern was dark. It stank of sour ale, urine, and puke. The wenches earned their coins in the open without shame. One girl was bent over a barrel near the tavern door, her skirt bunched up to the small of her back while a soldier thrust himself in and out of her, grunting as he moved. Father Henry swallowed hard, staring, but Brother George’s eyes roamed the room seeking the man they sought. He found him quickly.

Father Walter sat in a corner of the tavern, a plump girl in his lap. His hand was beneath her skirt. After a few minutes Father Walter dumped her from his lap. She fell to her knees before him, and her hands slid beneath the priest’s brown robe. Brother George could see her lips moving, and then after a moment or two the girl climbed upon the priest’s lap, sheathing his cock in her lush body. She jogged up and down a few times and then fell forward briefly upon his neck. Then, getting up off of Brother Walter, she took a coin from his fingers and moved off, a bored look upon her face.

Brother George moved to the table and sat down. “Did she give you pleasure?” he asked the startled priest.

“I am a weak man,” Father Walter said with a shrug, but there was no remorse in his tone.

“I am told you are a man who can get things done,” Brother George murmured.

“For a price, anything in this world can be had.” Father Walter chuckled.

Father Henry now joined them.

“My cousin and I have been told by Lettice the whore that you managed to gain a dispensation for a man who wished to marry his son’s widow. Is this so?” Brother George asked softly. “If it is, I have a small proposition for you of a similar nature.”

“Such things are expensive,” Father Walter said slyly.

“My master can pay,” Brother George assured him.

“What is it he desires, then?”

“For the church to dissolve his marriage to his wife of ten years. She is barren, and he needs an heir.”

“Why doesn’t he just kill her? By not giving him his heir, she is being disobedient. He could beat her to death, and no one would fault him as long as the stick he uses isn’t any larger around then his forefinger. The law permits it.”

“My master is a kind man. He simply wishes the church to dissolve his marriage to this woman. If the church will do it, then my master can keep her dower, which is
very
large,” Brother George explained. “And he has already chosen a new bride. The girl’s mother has birthed ten living children, six of them sons. This makes the girl a fine choice, for she is likely to be an excellent breeder. But others want her too. My master must act quickly. And too, the girl’s father might be loath to give his daughter to a man who had beaten his previous wife to death.”

Father Henry listened in rapt amazement as his cousin spoke to Father Walter. His story was plausible, and the mention of the
very
large dower portion had brought a light into the dishonest priest’s eyes.

“Tell me,” Father Walter said, “has this woman born any children at all?”

“None,” Brother George replied.

“It could be said then she had refused to consummate the marriage,” Father Walter suggested.

“No man would remain with a wife for ten years who would not consummate the marriage,” Brother George responded. “Nay. My master wants the church to give him a divorce. His wife can end her days in a nearby convent. She is a devout woman.”

“A divorce would take time,” Father Walter said slowly.

“Is there any way such a matter might be speeded up?” Brother George asked innocently, and he smiled at Father Walter.

Father Walter appeared to be considering the matter. Then he said, “It is possible, but your master would have to make a rather large contribution to the archbishop’s fund for Christian charity, I fear. Do you think he could afford it?”

Now Brother George appeared to be considering the matter. Finally he reached into the pocket of his robe and drew out the leather pouch. Opening it, he pulled out a gold coin and held it up in front of Father Walter’s face. “Do you think,” he asked, “this would begin the process for my master?”

“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.”

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.”

Brother George’s mouth quirked briefly in a small smile, and then he went on to explain the problem between Sir Udolf Watteson of Wulfborn Hall; Malcolm Scott, the Laird of Dunglais; and Mistress Alix Givet. He concluded by saying, “My master knew you would never give such a dispensation, Your Grace. However, until Sir Udolf can be convinced otherwise, he continues to insist the laird’s wife is his and causes great distress to both Malcolm Scott and his family. I have been given to understand the lady Alix does not dare to venture outside of her keep anymore for fear Sir Udolf will kidnap her again and carry her off to Wulfborn Hall. The lady is with child again, and should not be harassed so lest her offspring be harmed.”

The archbishop nodded. “She has given her husband a son and now is expecting a second child?”

“Aye, Your Grace, and she is a good mother to his daughter from a first union,” Brother George explained. “The lady Alix is the only mother the little lass can recall, and she lives in terror of losing her as she once lost the mother who bore her. And all of this unhappiness is being caused because a priest in your secretariat has solicited bribes from petitioners to Your Grace to issue dispensations of all sorts. This is only one case I bring to you, but there are surely others. And last night I offered this same priest a bribe to issue a declaration of divorce for a lord I claimed to represent.”