“Mistress Fenwick, come, sit.” Friar Jacob, indicates the empty chair beside Margery.
“I was most surprised to receive your message… late yester evening” indicating the opened parchment. “I have not divulged any of it to Mistress Chester here…. Since you requested both our presence, do you want to… You mentioned a crisis of conscience.”
“Thank you Friar.” She glanced at Margery, who was still, defensive and angry.
“Mistress Chester and I did an examination regarding the death of your scribe Edmund.”
“Was it wise, two women wandering the town alone, questioning men?”
Emma flushed at this rebuke, completely unexpected, she lost her train of thought.
“I… Men… No, no, not men… I mean not men…”
The effect on Margery was the opposite, she became incensed.
“Friar Jacob, Mistress Emma is here, I think, to seek spiritual guidance. Why we did the investigation is not the issue, but what we found and … well… leave it at that for now.” She gave Emma a curt nod to proceed, bridges not yet mended, but the frost beginning to thaw… a little.
“You are quite right. Who am I to judge? Pray continue Mistress Fenwick, I am heartened by your wish to see justice for our deceased clerk.”
Emma clasped her hands on her lap, composing herself, arranging her thoughts. Finally, she gave an account of their investigation and how it led them to Thom the Claw being the obvious suspect. At the word ‘obvious’, Margery let out a snort of derision.
“Yesterday, Mistress Chester, Margery, came to me with a story that I dismissed out of hand – wrongly and it troubles my conscience.”
At the mention of ‘conscience’, the friar leaned forward, interested. “Yes?”
“Margery, will you relate the story to the Friar please?” she asked hopefully and nervously.
Unlike Emma, Margery had no problem coming to the point quickly and succinctly.
“Thom the Claw is innocent, he was elsewhere and many merchants could vouch for that. It is simple.”
The friar now looked confused. “I fail to… I mean, what you say is indeed simple. So what is the problem, the matter of conscience that so troubles you?”
“It is of no concern to me, it is her it troubles.” Indicating Emma.
“Mistress Chester, what have you omitted? Or you, Mistress Fenwick, is there more to add?”
Both were silent, but Margery’s patience was short.
“Thom arranged a cockfight that very evening. He arranged and attended it. It was attended by almost every merchant in the ward, as well as Guild-Masters and nobility. They can all vouch for Thom, but none will admit attending a cockfight that had heavy gambling that went on long past curfew… Thom dare not cross them. If he does, who would believe him, his fate would surely be sealed. He is hoping against hope that some other miracle might spare his life. That someone can come and tell the truth.”
“That is our problem, I mean my troubled conscience. How can I let Thomas die, or is it for me to become involved if Thomas himself won’t speak. Can I remain silent in the face of God?”
Friar Jacob pondered this information, then asked if there was anything else pertinent.
Emma was about to say something and paused. The friar noticed. “Come, you have something to say.”
Twisting the cloth of her cloak between her fingers tightly, her knuckles turning white,” I was told something yesterday in strictest confidence, it was a command. A task that I must undertake…”
“And?”
“My heart says – don’t, but my mind says – do.”
“And what does your soul say?”
“My soul says ask you, Friar Jacob.”
“Well then – ask.”
“Margery, yesterday’s parting was…ill. Can we reconcile?”
“Of course I want to reconcile, but on what terms? We parted because you were willing to …”
“Yes, yes… yes…” she interrupted quickly. “You asked for my help and I refused. That was… “
But the friar threw up his hands to quell the rising confusion.
“Mistresses please. Some clarity. We are talking across each other. Mistress Emma. Your soul seeks guidance. Pray continue on that and that alone.”
She explained the task that she had been ordered to carry out under the instruction of the Wine Guild-Master. She also showed the personal token that she had been entrusted with. The friar was calm as he digested all this information.
“That is why? Really Emma? You side with the Guild-Master to abandon me… How could you?” Whatever hope for peace was now gone. The body language spoke volumes. The winter’s frost had returned.
“If I may speak… and neither of you interrupt.”
He waited. Neither woman moved. Emma stared at her hands; Margery kept her body half‑turned away.
“I ask again. Will you make peace with one another? If not, then please leave and return when you are both in a state of forgiveness and grace.”
The words were gentle, but they landed like stones.
Emma swallowed hard, pulled out her scented linen, dabbed her eyes. She reached for Margery’s hand – tentatively, as if expecting it to be pulled away.
“Margery… I am sorry. I wronged you. I let fear rule me. I let… that Guild-Master rule me. I should not have.”
Margery didn’t look at her. Her hand stayed limp in Emma’s.
A long moment passed.
Then Margery said, quietly, “I did not understand how much weight you were carrying. The Guild‑Master, your father…. I thought you were choosing them over…”
Emma flinched. “Perhaps I was. And that shames me.”
Margery finally turned her head, eyes red but steady. “I should not have walked away. But Emma… you frightened me. You spoke as if a man’s life mattered less than your Father’s comfort.”
Emma’s breath caught. “I know. And I hate that you saw that in me.”
Margery’s fingers tightened around hers.
Friar Jacob watched them with a small nod. “Grace begins with truth.”
Emma drew a shaky breath. “I do not respect the Guild‑Master. I never have. But I let his threats sway me. I put his voice above yours. Above my own conscience.”
“Then let us not do that again.”
“No. We will not.”
“Emma Fenwick, we are a pair of fools. No more tears now, we have duties, do we not? Yes, Friar, pray continue, you have our attention and lips sealed shut,” giving her friend’s hand a quick squeeze and radiant smile as if nothing had ever happened.
“What I have to say may not be to your liking. So, pray be silent, pay attention and think solemnly on it.”
Although the sun still shone through the window, bathing them in its heat, the words cast a pall, a foreboding.
“You stand against powers far stronger than either of you, and you are not likely to prevail. Yet for the keeping of your souls, you may not hold your tongues.”
Silence
“You cannot allow a man to die through inaction. It is your duty to act, but with caution. There is still time, Thomas is not officially judged yet.”
No one spoke. The friar had commanded it, and now that obedience was becoming oppressive.
“I understand from what you said. And tell me if I am wrong. You have no proof, nothing solid to free Thomas, just a story from his wife who could be lying.”
They both nodded, afraid to speak.
“You need to find someone to come forward but… from what the Guild-Master spoke yesterday – no one will. If you believe Thom’s wife, then… I will ask straight. Do you have the courage to go against the civil power? Does your family?”
Neither spoke, neither nodded – just a glance at each other, questioningly, the enormity dawning on them.
“I will, most certainly, put his wife’s story to the coroner, that will give it some weight. But past events lead me to believe that justice prefers a dubious man put to death over no one being punished.”
He placed his hands on the table, and waited. Finally… “You may speak.”
They both let out long pent-up breaths.
“Mistress Emma, you expected more from me.” She nodded. “Miracles don’t come from me, only from our Lord above.”
“Yes, Friar, I am disappointed, but also renewed. My conscience can only be clear if I act. To not do so will be against God…. And you also say that to act may bring misfortune on me, my family and friends. Am I correct?”
“You put my words in stark relief, but, in essence, you are correct. However, I do not tell you what to do, that is up to…”
“I know Friar. It is up to me and my conscience.”
He nodded.
“Are we finished then Friar?” Margery said hopefully.
“That is not for me to say. It is a question that you should ask Mistress Fenwick.”
“Without a hint of embarrassment, she looked questioningly at Emma, head tilted.
“Yes, Margery, we are finished. Thank you Friar, you were a great help to me… to us.”
The Friar stood, but Emma remained seated. “Is there more?”
Emma bit her tongue, unsure how to proceed. The Friar resumed his seat, attentive.
“I found sleep eluded me last night, my conscience refused to let it happen. I wondered who could possibly have killed Edmund. Who knew him well enough?”
“Yes…?” He asked suspiciously.
“Catherine. Where was she, Could she…?”
“Catherine? Mistress Emma, please restrain yourself. Remember what happened when you accused Thomas, are you now suggesting that you will accuse Catherine?
“No Friar Jacob, that is not what I am suggesting. What I say is we must question everyone who might know something. They say where they were, they tell us who Edmund quarrelled with, and that is an end to it. By asking, maybe we get new ideas, new people to ask. We must start somewhere. His fellow clerks and friends, are they not the first to seek help from?”
“Sorry Mistress Fenwick, you must start somewhere else. That I cannot…”
“People will ask, who else did you question – I want to say Catherine and she has a witness to prove her innocent. That is all I ask. Surely, if you believe what you have told us, you will allow this simple question to her.”
He ran his hands over his face as though washing and absolving himself. “I fear I have set you on a road that will bring pain to many. You did right coming here to me first, and I appreciate that…. Earlier I asked ‘Was it wise, two women wandering the town alone, questioning men,’ and that question is still on many lips”
Reaching into his robe he took out a simple Franciscan token. “Take this, the Franciscan Friary token. You are on duties concerning the death of one of our own. It signifies that the holder is on friary business, do not hinder.”
Emma looked at the token in her palm. Small. Plain. Yet it carried the weight of the Church behind it. She glanced at Margery, who met her eyes and gave the slightest nod.
He rose slowly, seeming somehow older than when the meeting had begun.
“Kneel, daughters…”
The importance of what was being asked became clear as Friar Jacob intoned a blessing.
“You take upon yourselves a burden borne for the sake of truth. May our Lord guard your steps in the stretes, and keep your tongues from falsehood.
Take this token. It signifies that you act under the charity of Greyfriars. Any who hinder you, hinder the work of God.
I pray Christ give you courage, the Virgin lend you mercy, and Saint Francis guide your hands to peace. Go with His blessing, and may no harm befall you.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti… Amen.”
Friar Jacob took his leave and sent a lay brother to seek Catherine.
Margery fanned her face, despite the cold. “I feel… I don’t know… show me the token.”
Emma placed it into her hand, they both looked at it reverently. “It has power, I can feel it in my palm.” Giving it back to Emma – “protect it, it is precious, more precious than the Guild-Master’s.”
“This changes everything, I know we do right now with Friar Jacob behind us.”
“You are right, I agree… and… we must now do everything properly… Wait, Emma, don’t interrupt.”
Searching for words that won’t offend, she continued.
“We were rash, impetuous with Thomas. That must stop. From now on, we must be careful. Accuse no one, ask and listen… that is all.”
Emma was somewhat chastened by this rebuke. But also relieved that Margery would be an equal with her, sharing the burden.
“I will be the official clerk! Yes, the official clerk. Now give me that token, I have supplies to… just give it to me.”
Grabbing the token, she rushed out leaving Emma on her own. Bemused. Comfortable.
Although the room was austere, it had a comforting feel, uncluttered, no distractions. Even the crucifix seemed to belong. The door opened silently, and Catherine appeared, startling her.
“Hello Catherine, please… sit. Mistress Chester is on an errand and will return shortly. We should await her.”
“Mistress Fenwick, you summoned me here, I have duties to attend to. I will need to work late for time wasted here with you…”
“I understand that Cath…”
“I don’t think that you do. You sent for me, I am here. Friar Jacob sent word that you have some questions, so ask your questions.”
Patiently. “As I have already exp… “
Catherine stood up. “Mistress Fenwick. If you have questions then ask. Else I must get back to my duties. I am not here to pass time with you.”
“Friar Jacob instructed you to attend here.”
“Will the good Friar wash linen on my behalf – no he won’t. Good day Mistress.”
She turned on her heel and opened the door to leave. Margery was rushing in and fairly bowled her across the room, barely managing to maintain balance.
Brandishing two wax tablets that she had ‘borrowed’ from the scriptorium nearby, she took her seat, waiting. When no one moved, she indicated, with a questioning look, that Catherine should sit.
Catherine reluctantly sat and composed herself.
Margery extracted one of the tablets, sharpened a stylus and waited expectantly, like an official clerk. Emma found this even more intimidating.
“Friar Jacob has asked us to revisit all people who knew poor Edmund and eliminate, without doubt, any who were not in a position to kill him.”
“You think I killed him? I Lov… how could you?”
“It is Friar Jacob who asked us to ask these questions”, Emma told a version of the truth. “We don’t believe you could have killed Edmund, but when we show that, even you, gave answers, then how can any others refuse. That is why we need to start with you and show your innocence.”
Somewhat mollified by this explanation, but still not overjoyed, she agreed.
“Where were you that evening, can you say?”
“I have no problem remembering. The hospitaller called us in the afternoon, with news that a group of pilgrims were due imminently – a messenger had just arrived heralding their arrival. I worked that afternoon and evening with three other women helping prepare and serve them.”
She folded her arms across her chest, satisfied, daring them to question her story.
Emma looked over at Margery, who nodded, indicating that this seemed like a path leading nowhere.
“Thank you Catherine, and I regret that you were inconvenienced. I hope you understand.”
“No I don’t understand Mistress. Thom the Claw… he killed… my Edmund. The brute. So why do you ask questions now?”
“He is accused. We want to make sure. That is why the friar asked us to check again, lest an innocent man pay for another’s sins.”
“Who pays is of no concern of mine” She stood, bringing the conversation to a close.
“Before you go, I have just one…”
“What! I have duties to attend to. What question?”
“Yes, of course, I Understand. We must find Walter and talk with him next. Can you ask the porter to come in please.”
“Walter? I can tell you where he was, that night and every night – at his lodgings playing tables with the landlord. That seems to be all he ever does! Now. If you are finished mistresses?” looking each in turn
Margery indicated they were finished, Catherine turned on her heel and the tension was quite plain ,in the set of her shoulders, as she left the room.
“That is one very angry woman.”
Emma raised an eyebrow “You think?
“Yes, I do. But also curious. Why was she so helpful at the end – she can vouch for Walter. Now that was strange.”
“Too helpful?”
“I don’t know. Did she want us away from her and onto Walter? Or is there more than friendship between them?”
“You are giving me a head pain again.” Emma rubbed her temple to try and understand Margery
“Margery, I think you are dreaming again. You said yourself, we must stick to facts – not fantasy.”
“Oh, all right… but it is interesting fantasy.” Margery shook herself. “Come. Let us see if Walter’s story holds.”
“No, we wait for the porter… Margery!”
The porter escorted them to the Bursar’s office. Once inside they noticed that Friar Jacob was not at his desk, but there were three clerks working diligently. They all looked up, and seeing two women, quickly lowered their heads again. All except Walter, who stood and approached them.
His barely concealed swagger annoyed Margery who decided to attack and gauge the reaction.
“Walter, where were you at the time Edmund was murdered? If you can remember?”
If she was hoping to catch Walter unprepared, she was sorely mistaken
“I can remember without any problem. I was with my landlord… playing tables. But why I need to account for my whereabouts to two women is… well I find it impertinent you ask.”
Somewhat taken aback, Margery was initially lost for words, but she regained her composure quickly.
“We come on Friar Jacob’s instructions. That is why we ask. You answered that question very promptly – as if you have been rehearsing it. Why was it so easy to remember? Did something special happen at the game?”
But Walter parried without breaking stride.
“The opposite. It was a game like all others, nothing special, nothing memorable at all.”
Margery was beginning to lose her composure. She looked him eye to eye, without flinching. Neither did Walter. In fact, a flicker of a smile broke his lips – he was enjoying this little feud. As if mere women would be no match.
“Explain yourself,” she said through gritted teeth.”
“As I said, it was uneventful. In fact it would have been eventful if I had not played. You see, we play every day – it is our routine!” – and that smile… no, it was not a smile – a smirk, a nasty smirk. He was daring her to prove him wrong. Arrogant.
Turning on her heel, clutching Emma’s arm, she strode out, with the porter vainly trying to keep pace.
Outside the friary Margery was still incensed “Oh! I could wring that man’s neck.”
“I agree, between him and Catherine, I think they led poor Edmund a merry trail. But a merry trail does not a murderer make.”
“Unfortunately, you are right… Mistress Emma.”
“Will you slow a moment?”
Margery stopped, realising belatedly that she was striding with anger. They slowed almost to a stop. It was obvious Emma had something to say.
“Margery?”
“What is it?”
“I feel we are again chasing wisps of smoke, we are… how can I put this, and don’t be offended. We are scattered, rushing hither and thither.”
“I sense a plan in your weary bones, am I right?”
“Not really, but we should plan. This quest is not as easy as I had hoped. We need to give it time. Would you… I mean, can you stay at Fenwick Hall this night?”
“Woman, I was hoping you would invite me. This quest is far merrier than chasing children around the house and spouse out of my bed. Sister can handle the hall while I am away.”
Emma burst out laughing – “Do you say Sister will … No, I can’t say it!”
Margery looked at her totally at a loss for what was being said till – “Emma Fenwick! My sister would never.. Upon my soul… indeed!” She also burst out laughing.
“I was hoping you might stay the night. During ‘the between sleeps’ that is when my mind is freshest.”
“That is when my mind is asleep!”
Ciaran Leamy - Author 