The Devil's Domain

. It was a tall, narrow house with a red-bricked base, black beams and plaster on the upper stories. The windows were glazed with iron bars protecting the outside. The door was narrow but reinforced with great iron-studded nails. Gervase pulled at the bell. The door swung open and a clerk ushered them in. Inside the passageway was paved and clean swept. The walls were covered with polished panel work, above which coloured cloths and painted canvas sheets hung. The air smelled sweet with the smell of parchment, candles, sealing-wax and ink. On the ground floor were small chambers, most of them closed; but one was open and Athelstan espied the high stools and desks of the clerks, the latter covered in green baize cloth.
    John of Gaunt was lounging in a room at the back of the house. He was sitting on a stool, sifting among the manuscripts on the floor. He smiled as they came in.
    ’My lord coroner, my apologies, and you, Brother Athelstan. However, as you can see,’ Gaunt indicated his hunting jacket, leggings and boots, his spurs clinking at his every move, ’I, too, was preparing for other business but Gervase here said that he had matters to share with me.’ He looked across at the hour candle beneath its glass. ’Come then, let’s not waste time.’
    Gervase called a clerk, more stools were brought in, their seats covered in quilted cushions. White wine was served, with fruits and nuts in small silver dishes. While Gervase was making his preparations Athelstan looked at his surroundings: there was a small mantelled hearth but virtually every wall in the room was covered in shelves and on these leather pouches, neatly tagged, were arranged in tidy piles. The large window at one end provided light. The candles in bronze brackets on the wall had hooded caps, protection against any spark.
    ’This is my second home,’ Gervase remarked, following Athelstan’s gaze and sitting down. ’Here, Brother, we have the gossip of the courts. Who’s in favour at Avignon ? Which cardinal will take bribes? Who’s been elected to the Council of Ten in Venice ? Which courtier is in the ascendant in Paris ?’ He lifted his goblet. ’I give you secrets.’
    ’Before we begin,’ Gaunt interrupted, ’Sir Maurice, I heard about the business at the Golden Cresset.’ He smiled. ’Or rather, Master Gervase told me. Sir Jack, you’ve been there?’
    ’I have, my lord, and Sir Maurice is as innocent as a newborn babe. A subtle, nasty trick to bring him into ill favour with his beloved.’
    ’That is not the style of Sir Thomas Parr.’ Gervase spoke up. ’I have heard of your troubles, Sir Maurice.’ He smiled sympathetically.
    ’It may have something to do with this,’ Gaunt said. The Regent wagged a finger playfully at Sir Maurice, his handsome face crinkled into a smile, eyes narrowed. ’You are not in favour with the French, Sir Maurice. The St Sulpice and St Denis were two of their finest ships.’
    ’Do you think the French could have arranged the business at the Golden Cresset out of spite?’ Sir Maurice asked hopefully.
    ’Perhaps, perhaps. But let’s listen to what Master Gervase has learned.’
    ’I was disturbed early this morning,’ Gervase began. ’Pompfrey was so excited. My spaniel,’ he explained. ’A merchant had arrived from France , his name and status do not concern you but he’s a good limner, a sniffer out of secrets. He often drinks in the taverns in the Ile de France and brushes shoulders with the clerks from the French chancery.’
    ’He’s also well paid,’ Gaunt interrupted harshly.
    Gervase forced a smile which never reached his eyes.
    ’Of course, my lord. However, the man does risk life and limb. Silver and gold do not make up for legs and arms broken on the wheel at Montfaucon or bring you back from the gallows when your neck has been wrung.’
    Athelstan lowered his head to hide his own smile. He rather liked this soft, gentle-spoken man who seemed as wary of the Regent as himself.
    ’Now, my friend from Paris was all excited. He’d left that city some days ago and travelled to Boulogne then on to Calais . We have a truce with France but he had to make sure that he wasn’t being followed. Now the French have a master spy. We know something of him. He calls himself Mercurius, after the Greek god. He’s well named. Secretive, sly, able to change his appearance. He’s not only a spy but a very good assassin. We have heard of his exploits in the north Italian cities, Pisa