‘We know Eligius is a firm believer that Bingham is responsible for Grene’s murder,’ said Bartholomew thoughtfully. ‘He even arranged to have Bingham arrested – and he wanted it done with such haste that he could not even wait until you had finished looking into that burglary at St Clement’s Hostel, and asked the Sheriff to do it instead.’
‘True,’ said Michael. ‘And what better way to hide his own guilt than to blame someone else? And, if you remember, Eligius was also the first Fellow to claim that Grene had confided that he was in fear of his life from Bingham.’
‘But what of the other two Fellows who claimed Grene had made a similar confession to them?’ asked Bartholomew uncertainly. ‘Do you think they are lying, too?’
‘“Claimed” is the pertinent word,’ said Michael. ‘Once Eligius stated that Grene had confessed himself in fear of his life, the other two might have thought back to conversations they had with Grene and read a significance into his words that was never there. Eligius is a brilliant logician, skilled at wrapping the arguments of others around their ears with his word-play. I imagine it would be easy for him to plant doubts in the minds of the others about supposed hidden meanings in Grene’s statements.’
‘All very well,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But I still cannot see why a renowned scholar like Eligius should risk all to help some apprentice commit murder.’
‘If we knew that, we would have the evidence we need to tackle him,’ said Michael. ‘But it would have been simple for him, as a Fellow of Valence Marie, to help Rob Thorpe to slip into the College and to secure him a place near Grene at the high table. Then Thorpe could have given Grene the poisoned wine unobtrusively.’
They were silent for a while, thinking about what they had reasoned. Bartholomew wondered whether a seventeen-year-old apprentice would be able to conceive and execute such a plan alone and decided it was unlikely. In which case, why should Eligius help Thorpe in his warped desire for vengeance? It seemed a dangerous game to play, especially if Thorpe’s nerve broke and he revealed the identity of his accomplice to the Proctors.
When Bartholomew and Michael had been examining Grene’s body in St Botolph’s Church, Eligius had made it clear that he believed Bingham to be responsible. Was that to ensure Michael’s investigation concentrated on Bingham, and did not attempt to seek other possible culprits? But the niggling doubt at the back of Bartholomew’s mind was Eligius’s apparent lack of motive. Bartholomew could conceive of no earthly reason why Eligius should want to rid Valence Marie of Grene and Bingham in so dramatic a manner, just because he was unimpressed with their intellectual abilities. He had not wanted the Mastership for himself or he would have taken it when it had been offered to him.
Bartholomew turned his thoughts to the wine. ‘There are aspects to this poison I do not understand,’ he said aloud. ‘I saw that cat drink from the broken bottle and it did not die; but the rat did, instantly. And Philius became ill from the poison, but he did not die, despite the fact that it was strong enough to cause that burn on Isaac’s hand.’
‘Armel seems to have died as quickly as Grene,’ said Michael. ‘And the porter at Valence Marie, who was overly curious about the three bottles we left in his care, also burned his hand on them. Perhaps Philius and the cat had a greater resistance to the poison than had Grene and Armel. You are always telling me that people react differently to the same disease and the same treatments.’
‘But not usually to poisons,’ said Bartholomew. ‘At least, not to that extent. A poison strong enough to kill a person from a single sip is hardly likely to have no effect at all on a cat. But we still do not know why Sacks sold this poisoned wine in the first place. Gray says Sacks often sells stolen goods to students, so he would hardly want to deprive himself of their custom by killing them. He must have stolen them from someone else.’
‘That is it!’ said Michael, clicking his fingers with sudden insight. ‘Of course! You have it! He stole them. They were never meant to be sold around the town taverns, and that is why someone went to such pains to retrieve them – as you pointed out days ago. Someone wanted the evidence back. This is beginning to make sense.’
‘Not to me,’ said Bartholomew. ‘So, what you are suggesting is that Sacks stole these six bottles of wine and began selling them in the Brazen George. Thorpe and his cronies, perhaps out of fear of Oswald’s anger at their disobedience, covered up the death of the apprentice Oswald denies losing. Thorpe kept the second bottle to use at a later date–’
‘And that meant that the people trying to retrieve their wine would have no clue where to look,’ interrupted Michael, nodding. ‘There were no tales of sudden and violent death for four weeks to reveal the bottles’ whereabouts – although Sacks sold the first of the wine four weeks ago, the first public death did not occur until last Saturday.’
He took a bone from his plate and gnawed it thoughtfully, while Bartholomew watched him, wondering whether all their reasoning was correct. Michael waved the bone in the air and continued.
‘At the installation I did not announce the fact that I had taken the bottle from which Grene had been drinking to look for poison, but I did not take it with stealth. Anyone might have seen me remove it. I imagine that, first, these people went to Michaelhouse, where they found not one but four of their bottles. Then they went to Gonville Hall where they retrieved the fifth one and killed Isaac at the same time.’
‘But why go to Gonville at all?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘No one knew that Philius had been poisoned until I diagnosed it. And why was Isaac’s death so brutal?’
Michael shrugged and then stretched his meaty arms. ‘I confess I do not know. But we have made good headway with this mystery. At least we have the answer to some of our questions.’
‘But not the identities of the people trying to kill us,’ said Bartholomew glumly. ‘And not why someone chopped Egil’s head and hands from his body. Nor why Eligius should help a misguided adolescent commit murder. And I am still uncomfortable with the roles Colton and Julianna are playing in all this.’
‘And we know a little of the smugglers that my grandmother uncovered,’ said Michael, ignoring Bartholomew’s pessimism. He gestured at the figs. ‘The town is flooded with foods not normally seen at this time of year. Deschalers is a grocer – these figs, lemons, nuts and Agatha’s pomegranate must have come from him. I am not sure I believe Deschalers’s claim that he stores them in his cellars. Gathers them from the Fens, more like.’
‘Deschalers said he did not know the smugglers were operating in the area around Denny,’ said Bartholomew slowly, ‘suggesting that he knows about smuggling elsewhere. Was his name one of the ones Dame Pelagia gave to Tulyet?’
Michael waved his hand expansively. ‘No, but once Tulyet has a couple of these smugglers in his cells, they will soon reveal who the ringleaders are. He should be rounding them up even as we speak.’ He swirled the wine around in his cup as Bartholomew paced restlessly.
‘I do not see why the mutilation of Egil was necessary,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The man was dead. There was nothing to be gained from it. Unless …’
‘Unless what?’ asked Michael, looking up from his wine.
‘Something Deynman said,’ said Bartholomew, frowning.
‘I can tell I am about to be treated to some great pearl of wisdom,’ said Michael drily. ‘What could Deynman say that would possibly stick in your mind?’
‘When he was asked how he would treat a head wound in his disputation, he said he would poke about in it to make certain there was nothing more serious hidden underneath.’
‘Oh, Matt!’ said Michael with a face of disgust. ‘The boy is deranged. I take it you did not teach him that? God forbid he should ever come near me if I am injured!’