The speech met with stony silence. Richard Rochell looked down at his writing pad. Harald Gascoigne polished his eyeglasses. William Bradford gestured towards the scribe and eventually spoke.
'Do you take me for an idiot? You went to Salisbury to vilify my name. Now you are congratulating me on my election.'
'There has been an unfortunate misunderstanding.'
'No. There has not.' William thrust a jewelled finger at John Baret.' We understand you only too well. No sooner was my election announced than you set out on a mission of lies and deception. You told the dean I was paying for information.'
'I went to Salisbury on parish business.'
'You went to sow discord.'
'Please.' John raised a calming hand. 'We came here in a spirit of peace and reconciliation. We are as opposed to the subversive elements as you are.'
'You are not. It is you who is behind these outrages. You travelled to Salisbury with the Welshmen who tried to steal the font. My bailiff recognised them. And, I do not doubt you are behind that font which has so illegally and outrageously appeared in All Hallows.' The jewelled finger shook with rage. 'What is more, Bailiff Gallor identified one of those Welshmen as the villain who has been shooting my pigeons.'
It was the first John had heard of the pigeons.
'They've been found with arrows through them and I hold you responsible. It is a most serious offence. You have been interfering with correspondence between your lord abbot and the highest authorities in the land.'
For a moment John was stunned. There was something appallingly plausible about the accusation. Gareth was famed for his ability to shoot birds from the sky. It didn't take much imagination the guess where the birds came from.
Harald Gascoigne came to his aid. 'Did I hear the term lord abbot?' He put down his eyeglasses and squinted like a short-sighted scribe seeking confirmation of a trivial point.
'That is correct,' William Bradford returned his stare.
'It has been used a lot recently,' Harald muttered as he wrote. 'I'm sure my former colleagues in Westminster would be interested to hear of it.'
William turned to Canon Simon. 'What's he going on about?'
'Sir Harald studied law at Oxford before family duties obliged him to return to Dorset,' Simon said.
'Well. That's as may be,' William grunted. 'I know Sir Harald as one who cavorts with a lady who mixes strange potions, says prayers in strange languages and thinks she has a right to baptise infants, all of which sounds very much like witchcraft to me. Are you saying he has other claims to fame?'