Rollo felt goosebumps at the back of his neck. Donal had saidgoing to their boring services. Rollo had long known that the Cobleys belonged to that dangerous class of people who thought they had the right to their own opinions about religion, but he had not previously come across evidence that they actually practised their profanation here in Kingsbridge. He tried not to show his sudden excitement. ‘I suppose those services were pretty dull,’ he said, endeavouring to sound casual.
Donal immediately backtracked. ‘I should have said meetings,’ he said. ‘Of course they don’t hold services – that would be heresy.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Rollo said. ‘But there’s no law against people praying together, or reading from the Bible, or singing hymns.’
Donal raised his tankard to his mouth, then put it down again. ‘I’m talking nonsense,’ he said. His eyes showed the shadow of fear. ‘I must have had too much to drink.’ He got to his feet with an effort. ‘I’m going home.’
‘Don’t go,’ said Rollo, eager to know more about Philbert Cobley’s meetings. ‘Finish your tankard.’
But Donal was scared. ‘Need to take a nap,’ he mumbled. ‘Thanks for the beer.’ He staggered away.
Rollo sipped meditatively. The Cobleys and their friends were widely suspected of secretly having Protestant beliefs, but they were careful, and there was never the least evidence of illicit behaviour. As long as they kept their thoughts to themselves they committed no offence. However, holding Protestant services was another matter. It was a sin and a crime, and the punishment was to be burned alive.
And Donal, drunk and embittered, had momentarily lifted the veil.
There was nothing much Rollo could do about it, for tomorrow Donal would surely deny everything and plead intoxication. But this information would prove useful one day.
He decided to tell his father about it. He finished his drink and left.
He arrived at the family home on the high street at the same time as Bishop Julius. ‘We gave our soldiers a jolly good send-off,’ he said cheerfully to the bishop.
‘Never mind about that,’ said Julius irascibly. ‘I’ve got something to tell Sir Reginald.’ Clearly he was angry, though fortunately his ire did not seem to be directed at the Fitzgeralds.
Rollo led him into the great hall. ‘I’ll fetch my father at once,’ Rollo said. ‘Please sit here in front of the fire.’
Julius gave a dismissive wave and began to pace up and down impatiently.
Sir Reginald was taking a nap. Rollo woke him and told him the bishop was downstairs. Reginald groaned and got out of bed. ‘Give him a cup of wine while I dress,’ he said.
A few minutes later the three men were seated in the hall. Julius began immediately. ‘Alice Willard has heard from Calais. TheSt Margarethas been confiscated by the French and her cargo sold.’
Despair seized Rollo. ‘I knew it,’ he said. It had been his father’s last throw of the dice, and he had lost. What would they do now?
Sir Reginald flushed with anger. ‘What the devil was the ship doing in Calais?’
Rollo answered him. ‘Jonas Bacon told us that when he met the ship, its captain was intending to go into port for minor repairs. Hence the delay.’
‘But Bacon didn’t say the port was Calais.’
‘No.’
Reginald’s freckled face twisted with hatred. ‘He knew, though,’ he said. ‘And I’ll bet Philbert did, too, when he sold us the cargo.’
‘Of course Philbert knew, the lying hypocritical Protestant swindler.’ Rollo was boiling with rage. ‘We’ve been robbed.’
The bishop said: ‘If that’s so, can you get your money back from Philbert?’
‘Never,’ said Reginald. ‘A town like this can’t let people renege on contracts, even when there has been sharp practice. The contract is sacred.’
Rollo, who had studied law, knew he was right. ‘The court of quarter sessions will uphold the validity of the transaction,’ he said.
Bishop Julius said: ‘If you’ve lost that money, will you be able to repay Alice Willard?’
‘No.’
‘And you pledged the priory as security for the loan.’
‘Yes.’
