A Plague of Heretics Read Online Free PDF Page A

literate – a rare accomplishment in a society where few but those in holy orders could read and write.
    ‘I trust we are making a fortune, Hugh!’ he called from the doorway.
    The rotund merchant rose from his chair with a broad smile and waved de Wolfe to a nearby stool. He was an unfailingly cheerful fellow, with a fondness for gaudy clothing. Today he wore a yellow linen tunic under a surcoat of bright red satin, with a mantle of green velvet draped over the back of his chair. His head was swathed in a turban-like coil of red brocade, the free end hanging down over one shoulder.
    ‘We’re doing very well, John, though these outbreaks of distemper may affect the transport of goods,’ he said breezily. ‘However, our long voyages will soon be ending for the winter.’
    He was repeating John’s earlier remark to Gwyn about their ships being laid up for the season. They were vital for their business venture, as when Hilda had been widowed the previous year she had brought her late husband’s three ships into the existing partnership between de Relaga and the coroner. They used them to move their wool and cloth around the Channel ports as far distant as Flanders and the Rhine.
    The portreeve sent one of his clerks for wine and pastries, and over refreshments he gave John a summary of their present trading position. Though de Wolfe was a ‘sleeping partner’, he took a healthy interest in the fortunes of their firm. He had invested the wealth he had acquired over years of campaigning into their joint business and had benefited considerably from the thriving expansion of Exeter’s commercial life.
    Hugh pushed aside his parchments and smiled benignly at the coroner. ‘So you’ll not starve this month, John. We are doing quite nicely. But tell me how other matters are going with you – have you settled back fully into your old harness?’
    The coroner set his cup on the table and wiped his lips appreciatively. Trust Hugh to have only the best wine from the Loire.
    ‘It hardly seems as if I’ve been away for those months,’ he said candidly. ‘At least, it does as far as my duties go. At home it’s a different matter!’
    The portreeve nodded sympathetically. It was a little difficult for him, as he was about the only friend of John’s that Matilda would tolerate, mainly because he was rich, well dressed and always made a point of flattering her. But he knew the situation in Martin’s Lane and was sad that his friend felt so frustrated and unhappy with his lot. He decided to avoid the subject and stick to John’s coronership.
    ‘You found Westminster not to your taste?’ he asked.
    ‘Like living in a bloody hive full of bees!’ grunted de Wolfe. ‘All gossip and scandal and intrigue, but very little actual work for me.’
    He had been Coroner of the Verge for only a short while, posted there on the direct orders of King Richard, but after dealing with an extraordinary crime he decided that he wanted to leave, partly from feelings of guilt at not having done enough to solve it.
    They spoke a little more about the sporadic cases of the yellow plague that had been cropping up, and John told him of the most recent one in Lympstone. For once, Hugh looked seriously concerned. ‘Lympstone! That’s getting uncomfortably close to Topsham.’
    This was the port at the upper end of the estuary of the River Exe, where much of their goods were handled. If the disease hit Topsham, then their shipments would be badly disrupted. Like so many worried people around the southern coast, they began discussing possible causes of the yellow curse, without any hope of an answer.
    ‘Why don’t you ask the opinion of your new neighbour?’ suggested Hugh. John looked at him blankly for a moment, then realised what he meant.
    ‘The new physician? I’ve hardly said a word to him yet, though my wife seems to think that he’s some kind of saint.’
    Three months earlier, while John was away in London, the house next door in