Osmund said timorously: “Be quiet, Aldred, let the ealdorman speak.”

The door opened and Hildred came in.

Wilwulf was irritated by both interruptions. “I didn’t summon you,” he said to Hildred. “Who are you?”

Osmund answered the question: “This is Treasurer Hildred, whom I have made acting abbot during my illness. He should hear whatever you have to say.”

“All right.” Wilwulf picked up the conversation where it had left off. “A crime has been committed, and that is shameful,” he conceded. “But now the question is what should be done.”

“Justice,” said Aldred. “Obviously.”

“Shut up,” said Wilwulf.

Osmund spoke in a pleading tone. “Aldred, you’re only making things worse for yourself.”

“Making what worse?” Aldred said indignantly. “I’m not in trouble. I didn’t forge the king’s currency. That was Wilwulf’s brother.”

Wilwulf was on weak ground. “I’m not here to discuss the past,” he said evasively. “The question, as I said a moment ago, is what is to be done now.” He turned to Aldred. “And don’t say ‘justice’ again or I’ll knock your bald head off your skinny neck.”

Aldred said nothing. It hardly needed pointing out that for a nobleman to threaten a monk with personal violence was undignified, to say the least.

Wilwulf seemed to realize he had lowered himself, and he changed his tone. “Our duty, Abbot Osmund,” he said, flattering the abbot by putting the two of them on the same level, “is to make sure this incident doesn’t damage the authority of the nobility or the Church.”

“Quite so,” said Osmund.

Aldred found this ominous. Wilwulf bullying was normal; Wilwulf sounding conciliatory was sinister.

Wilwulf said: “The forgery has ended. The dies have been confiscated by the sheriff. What is the point of a trial?”

Aldred almost gasped. The effrontery was astonishing. Not have a trial? It was outrageous.

Wilwulf went on: “The trial will achieve nothing except to bring disgrace to a bishop who is also my half brother. Think how much better it would be if no more were heard of this incident.”

Better for your evil brother, Aldred thought.

Osmund prevaricated. “I see your point, ealdorman.”

Aldred said: “You’re wasting your breath here, Wilwulf. Whatever we might say, the sheriff will never agree to your proposal.”

“Perhaps,” said Wilwulf. “But he might become discouraged if you were to withdraw your support.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“I presume he will want you to be one of his oath helpers. I’m asking you to refuse, for the sake of the Church and the nobility.”

“I must tell the truth.”

“There are times when the truth is best unsaid. Even monks must know that.”

Osmund spoke pleadingly. “Aldred, there’s a lot in what the ealdorman says.”

Aldred took a deep breath. “Imagine that Wynstan and Degbert were dedicated, self-sacrificing priests giving their lives to the service of God, and abstaining from the lusts of the flesh; but they had made one foolish mistake that threatened to end their careers. Then, yes, we would need to discuss whether the punishment would do more harm than good. But they aren’t priests of that kind, are they?” Aldred paused, as if waiting for Wilwulf to answer the question, but the ealdorman wisely said nothing. Aldred went on: “Wynstan and Degbert spend the Church’s money in alehouses and gambling dens and whorehouses, and an awful lot of people know it. If they were both unfrocked tomorrow it would do nothing but good for the authority of nobility and the Church.”