Death of a Scholar (40 page)

‘I thought you might appreciate a little surprise,’ he told his shattered colleagues when it was over and he could make himself heard. ‘They will perform that piece tomorrow at St Mary the Great. Well? What did you think?’

‘Some of the words were recognisable,’ replied Langelee, the only one brave enough to venture an opinion. ‘And you can certainly be sure of making an impact.’

He indicated that Suttone was to continue the rite, and by the time it was over, the ambiguous remark had been forgotten. The choir lingered, fishing for compliments, and Bartholomew was astounded by the size of it. It comprised not only most of the town’s poor, but twice as many students as had been at the practice three days before, when fights had broken out over the bread and ale. The mix remained an uneasy one, and the atmosphere was decidedly edgy.

‘Are you sure it is wise to keep them in each other’s company?’ asked Bartholomew, as he and Michael walked back to the College. ‘Some almost came to blows during the Nunc Dimittus.’

‘They will not do it again,’ vowed Michael. ‘The ringleaders of that unedifying spectacle will be expelled, and the remainder will behave or they will follow, no matter how desperate they are for free food. Hah! There is de Stannell. I want a word with him.’

The deputy was loping along the High Street with a worried, distracted air that did nothing to inspire confidence in his ability to run a large and busy shire.

‘What do you want?’ he snapped when Michael hailed him. ‘I am busy.’

It was no way to address the University’s Senior Proctor, and Michael reined in his temper with difficulty. ‘There are rumours that the town will attack our procession tomorrow. How will you prevent it?’

‘The tale I have heard is that your clerks will attack each other,’ countered de Stannell. ‘Those who cannot find a College or a hostel want to vent their spleen on those who have. The predicted trouble has nothing to do with us, so the problem is yours to solve.’

‘You know perfectly well that if there is a spat, townsmen will join in,’ said Michael irritably. ‘You cannot skulk in your castle and pretend that nothing is happening.’

‘Declining to risk my troops to protect your scholars is not
skulking
,’ flashed de Stannell. ‘It is being prudent. If you do not like it, take it up with Tulyet when he returns.’

He stalked off, leaving Michael staring after him in exasperation. ‘I never thought to say Tulyet is a fool, but he must have been insane to have appointed that ape as his assistant.’

‘Speaking of apes, there is Holm,’ said Bartholomew, nodding to where the surgeon was selling one of his new patent medicines to Uyten, assuring the student that his teeth would regrow within four weeks. ‘We should ask him about the quarrel he overheard between Hemmysby and Lawrence. Marjory Starre may have misunderstood what he told her.’

‘Let me do it,’ said Michael. ‘You can ask Uyten why he was in the King’s Head last night. He is slinking away now he has seen us looking. After him, Matt!’

Bartholomew ignored the order, preferring to question the surgeon than engage in an undignified chase up the High Street. But if he was expecting Holm to incriminate himself with careless slips of the tongue, he was to be disappointed.

‘Yes, I heard them,’ the surgeon said. ‘Lawrence was angry with Hemmysby on two counts. First, for saying that Winwick Hall has too great a say in Guild affairs, and second, for humiliating his colleagues at the debate. Hemmysby told him he would do both again if the opportunity arose.’

‘Hemmysby would never have said such a thing,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘He—’

‘Why did you not tell us?’ asked Michael, raising a hand to warn Bartholomew into silence. ‘You knew he was murdered, and this might have a bearing on the case.’

‘Why should I help you? I do not care whether scholars are murdered or not.’ Holm looked hard at Bartholomew. ‘And stay away from Julitta. She belongs to me, and always will.’

He stalked away, but Michael grabbed Bartholomew’s arm before he could follow.

‘Leave him, Matt. He is not worth the trouble that would follow if you thumped him.’

‘A
confession
might follow if I thumped him,’ said Bartholomew sullenly.

‘One that would be retracted as soon as the danger was over, and that would make it more difficult to challenge him in the future. If we are going to charge him with anything, we need solid evidence, not suspicions. And especially not the suspicions of the man who hankers after his wife.’

Bartholomew did not answer, because he knew the monk was right. They returned to Michaelhouse, where he was pleased to find Goodwyn gone and Cynric reorganising the room. Then the breakfast bell chimed, and he walked to the hall, noting that no one ran up the stairs any more – the food simply did not warrant the effort.

‘Where is Clippesby?’ asked Langelee, after intoning one of his eclectic graces and indicating that his scholars could begin eating. A few did, but most looked at what had been provided with a mixture of revulsion and dismay.

‘With the chickens again,’ replied Thelnetham. ‘It is hardly natural, Master, and you should do something about it. Next term promises to be difficult, and his madness will put needless pressure on the rest of us. Dismiss him, and enrol a rational man in his place.’

‘He is not mad,’ countered William. ‘He is eccentric. And he is a better man than you.’

‘Defending the Dominicans?’ Thelnetham knew exactly how to needle the Franciscan. ‘Next you will be saying that you have decided to become one.’

‘Never,’ declared William hotly. ‘They are Satan-lovers, and God will—’

‘We should discuss hiring Hemmysby’s replacement soon,’ said Suttone, cutting into the burgeoning spat. ‘Preferably before term starts, as we cannot teach his classes as well as our own.’

‘How can we appoint a new Fellow?’ hissed Langelee irritably. ‘We are destitute, remember? Of course, we may not have to worry about next term if the blackmailer makes good on his threat. He is expecting twenty marks in four hours, and we do not have it.’

‘Damn you, William,’ muttered Thelnetham. ‘As if we did not have enough problems. It—’

‘The Saturday Sermon,’ interrupted Langelee, changing the subject before the Gilbertine could begin a tirade. ‘We postponed it until today because of Hemmysby. I know it is your turn to hold forth, Thelnetham, but I invited the scholars of Winwick Hall to speak instead. You can save whatever you have prepared for next week.’

‘Hah!’ crowed William. ‘He does not want to hear your rubbishy ideas, so he recruited better men.’

‘Actually, I did it so that Michael can quiz them about these murders,’ countered Langelee. ‘He tells me that they are among his suspects for killing Hemmysby, so who knows? Perhaps being in his victim’s home will unsettle the culprit and cause him to blurt out something incriminating.’

‘Thank you, Master,’ said Michael, pleasantly surprised. ‘I was wondering how I was going to ask more questions without alienating them with yet another visit.’

‘I shall be delighted to hear them preach,’ said Suttone. ‘I was impressed by Nerli at the debate, although the others were disappointing. Perhaps they will do better in less formal surroundings.’

‘Nerli will give the main address,’ said Langelee. ‘Afterwards, we shall attack his thesis, while his colleagues defend it. It will be disputation in its highest form, so that our new students can appreciate how it should be done.’

‘What an excellent idea, Master,’ said William. ‘It will be much better for them than listening to this boring Gilbertine.’

‘However, we
must
emerge victorious,’ Langelee went on, ignoring him. ‘So do anything you can to score a point, even if it is unethical. As I always tell my teammates at camp-ball games, it is
not
the taking part that is important – it is winning.’

As soon as breakfast was over, Bartholomew and Michael hurried to Verius’s house, to ask Ylaria where her husband might be hiding. Michael griped all the way, disgusted that his best singer should become unavailable the day before he was due to give his debut performance.

‘And do not suggest Isnard or one of the others,’ he grumbled, although Bartholomew knew better than to give advice where the choir was concerned. ‘They are hardly solo material.’

Ylaria invited them in, and both scholars were astonished to see Verius huddled by the fire – they had assumed he would vanish into the marshes with the others. Bartholomew felt a stab of shame when the ditcher glanced up to reveal two black eyes and a cut nose.

‘I heard you were a skilled fighter, Doctor,’ Verius said grudgingly. ‘But I never believed it, as you always seem so gentle. I was shocked when you used that stone on me. It was a low trick.’

‘So was trying to impale him with a sword,’ retorted Michael sternly. ‘You are lucky he was not similarly armed, or you would not be sitting here now, laughing about the situation.’

‘I am not laughing, believe me,’ muttered Verius ruefully.

Michael wiped the bench with a rag before gracing it with his ample posterior. ‘You have two choices: to tell me all you know of Fulbut and his business, or to hang.’

‘Fulbut?’ Ylaria turned angrily on her husband. ‘I thought I told you to send him packing when he came sniffing around the other day. I suppose you defied me and did his bidding anyway. You are a fool, Noll Verius! He has dragged you into dark business, just as I said he would.’

‘Very dark,’ agreed Michael. ‘Fulbut murdered my Junior Proctor, and for all I know, you helped him. So, what will it be, Verius? A full confession, or the noose?’

‘Confession,’ said Verius quickly. ‘Fulbut asked me to break into King’s Hall, while he visited the Carmelite Priory. I did it because I needed the money – not that I got much out of it. I filched a pewter jug, but it only fetched a penny at the market.’

‘Why attack King’s Hall and the Carmelites?’

‘Because they had not been raided before, and Fulbut said it meant they were not overly fussy about their security.’ Verius looked disgusted. ‘It might have been true of the friars, but he was wrong about King’s Hall. I was damn nearly caught!’

‘You were damn nearly caught in Winwick, too,’ said Bartholomew, recalling that here was another crime carried out by an inept culprit who had failed to win much in the way of spoils. ‘You only managed to snag a cracked dish before Provost Illesy heard you and drove you off.’

Verius made a curious sideways shuffle, which was not quite quick enough to block the item in question from view. Michael shoved him aside and picked it up.

‘You risked the noose for this?’ he asked, shaking his head in incomprehension as he turned it over in his hands.

‘I do not like that College,’ said Verius sullenly. ‘So I went there to teach it a lesson for taking all the Guild of Saints’ money – funds that should be used for the poor. I hoped to get something better, obviously, but I did not see anything else worth having.’

‘What about all the other burglaries?’ asked Michael, and began to list them.

‘Not me or Fulbut,’ declared Verius. ‘I swear! Besides, he was in the marshes until recently, hiding out after shooting Felbrigge.’

‘Felbrigge,’ said Michael. ‘Yes, let us discuss him. I know Fulbut shot him, but on whose orders? Potmoor’s?’

‘No. Work from Potmoor has dried up since his resurrection.’ Verius shrugged. ‘I cannot prove it, but I thought Fulbut was hired by someone from the Guild of Saints. There are lots of nasty people in it these days – Hugo, the Winwick men, Meryfeld, the Frevill clan, Mistress Mortimer, the Tulyet cousins from the Hadstock Way, the Mayor, Julitta Holm—’

‘You mean Surgeon Holm,’ interrupted Bartholomew coolly.

‘I mean
Julitta
Holm. That surgeon is greedy and selfish, but she is worse.’

‘It is true,’ said Ylaria, nodding. ‘She used to give the Frail Sisters money, but she stopped when they declined to mend their ways. And it was her who told Holm to come here when you sewed up Noll’s thumb – she wanted to make sure he let nothing slip when he was drunk, see.’

‘Why would she do that?’ asked Bartholomew icily, knowing they were trying to divert attention from themselves by attacking the lady he loved.

‘Because
she
hired Fulbut,’ declared Verius, although the sly cant of his eyes said he was lying. ‘She must have heard Ylaria tell you that I cut myself and was getting drunk to deaden the pain. She thought I might blurt out my suspicions, so she and Holm came to stop me.’

‘And Noll did blurt,’ said Ylaria triumphantly. ‘He mentioned Fulbut, who he called the money soldier. Surgeon Holm ordered me to block his mouth, and when you forbade it, Julitta was very quick to say that Noll’s remarks were nonsense. See? It all makes sense!’

‘Enough fantasy,’ said Michael sharply. ‘Tell us about Fulbut.’

‘In the past, I helped him collect money,’ obliged Verius. ‘Money owed to Potmoor, usually. Sometimes we had to be a bit … forceful, but the pay was good. I did not want to work for a felon, obviously, but only a fool says no to Potmoor. I had no choice, Brother.’

‘Neither did Olivia Knyt, I imagine,’ said Ylaria, aiming again to distract them from her husband’s misdeeds. ‘And now she is carrying his child.’

‘She is pregnant?’ asked Michael, startled. ‘How do you know? Did she tell you?’

‘She did not have to,’ replied Ylaria loftily. ‘I am a woman.’

Bartholomew pulled Michael to one side. ‘Actually, Ylaria may be right. Olivia bought bryony root, and we know that she and Potmoor are close…’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ snapped Michael impatiently.

‘Bryony does not ease colic, which is what Olivia told Eyer she wanted it for. However, it can be used to end unwanted pregnancies, although not always effectively.’

Michael turned back to Verius. ‘What else can you tell me about Fulbut? And think very carefully, because the paltry information you have provided so far is not enough to save you.’

‘But that is all there is!’ cried Verius, dismayed. ‘He was close-mouthed about his business, which is why Potmoor hired him.’ He flailed about for someone else to incriminate. ‘I know! Richard Stanmore. He is as nasty a fellow as I have ever … Oh, Christ!’ He put his hands over his face. ‘I forgot! He is the Doctor’s nephew!’