‘You must tell us, Francis,’ said Michael, kindly but firmly. ‘It is important. Your friend Rob might be in some danger.’
‘Danger?’ wept Francis. ‘Not him! It was we who were in danger. I hate him!’
‘Did he bully you?’ asked Michael. ‘Did he make threats?’
‘All the time!’ howled Francis. ‘We all hated him, and we are all glad he has gone. He made us lie to you about where he was last Saturday. I do not know where he was: he was not with us. And I do not know where he is now, but I am glad it is not here.’
‘No wonder you thought your apprentices were listless,’ said Bartholomew in an undertone to Stanmore. ‘You were worried that they were ill, but it seems as though they were subdued because they were terrified of Thorpe.’
‘There is no need to belabour the point, Matt,’ said Stanmore bitterly. ‘It seems we were wrong and you were right. Rob has taken his belongings from our house – along with all my petty cash, a ring Cynric gave to my seamstress and the necklace of your mother’s that Edith loved so much. The other apprentices were so relieved to see him gone that they were capering around their dormitory like lunatics. That is how I discovered he had left before the time they were supposed to tell me.’
‘And do you know anything of a dead apprentice?’ asked Michael of Francis.
Francis went silent, while Edith gazed at Michael in disbelief. ‘Not this again,’ she groaned. ‘How many more times must we tell you? None of our lads is missing!’
‘Not one of us,’ said Francis, raising a white face to Edith. ‘Will Harper, Rob Thorpe’s cousin. He was a bully, too, and they brought that wine into our dormitory even though they knew you would be angry. Then, today, Will Harper was dragged out of the well. It was him, wasn’t it?’
Michael nodded and Edith put a comforting arm around Francis’s thin shoulders. The apprentice took a shuddering breath, and continued his story.
‘The two of them – Rob Thorpe and Will Harper – took the wine to the far end of the room and started to drink it. Then Rob started yelling at Will, but he was lying on the floor in a swoon. Rob sent me for Father Philius – I wanted to get Doctor Bartholomew, but Rob told me not to. Philius said there was nothing he could do, and Rob made us carry Will to one of the storerooms. He said Will had died because the Devil had come up through the floor and snatched his soul away. He said the same would happen to us if we told anyone what had happened.’
He paused and gave a great, wet sniff, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Michael waited patiently while Francis composed himself.
‘The next day, we looked in the storeroom, but Will had gone. Rob said he had recovered, and had gone to join a monastery to be safe from the Devil if he should come again.’
‘Did you believe him?’ asked Michael. ‘That Will was still alive, even after Father Philius had pronounced him dead?’
Francis sniffed again and nodded. ‘We all wanted him gone – whether to a monastery or the Devil we did not care. But he was in the well, yes? So he is really dead this time and will not come back to haunt us?’
‘He is really dead, Francis,’ said Michael softly. ‘Thank you for having the courage to speak out. I promise neither Rob Thorpe nor Will Harper will be coming back to torment you.’
Francis burst into tears, his face buried in Michael’s habit. Michael ruffled his hair comfortingly. ‘You seem to have nursed a viper at your breast,’ he said to Edith.
‘This cannot be happening,’ said Edith, looking from where Francis sobbed into Michael’s ample girth to her husband. ‘We have always been gentle with Rob. I felt sorry for him, his father being disgraced and all.’
‘It may have been your very gentleness that made him bitter,’ said Michael.
‘Do you think his father encouraged him in this?’ asked Stanmore, white faced.
Michael shook his head. ‘I sincerely doubt it. Bitter and angry at his dismissal he might have been, but he would never have stooped to anything like this. And he certainly would not have encouraged his son to engage in anything so vile.’
‘Are you sure?’ pressed Edith.
Bartholomew put a comforting hand on her shoulder, seeing how she was clutching at straws in her desperation to shift the blame from the apprentice to someone else. It would not be easy for her to accept that the boy she had welcomed so generously into her household had repaid her kindness with such deception and wickedness.
Michael nodded. ‘I am sure. I believe poor Master Thorpe will be appalled when he learns about the havoc his son has wreaked on his behalf. But enough of this wretched little ingrate. Go home, Edith. I think your other boys might need you now. They will be frightened and will need reassuring.’
Edith gave a wan smile. ‘Thank you, Michael. You have been kind.’ She prised the sobbing Francis from Michael and turned away to take him home. ‘I still hope you are wrong,’ she said in a small voice, not looking back at them.
‘So do I,’ said Stanmore, watching her go. ‘This will break her heart, Matt. Rob was a favourite of hers. I think he reminds her of you when you were that age.’
Bartholomew, recalling Thorpe’s gloating smiles of triumph and murderous inclinations, sincerely hoped he was mistaken. ‘I suppose we had better see if he has fled to Valence Marie,’ he said, anxious to be away from Stanmore and his distress, since he felt as though he were at least partly responsible for it.
Stanmore gave a huge sigh. ‘I suppose I should come with you to help you find Rob,’ he said, ‘but I have no stomach for this sort of confrontation. The University is no place for honest traders.’
They left him sitting disconsolately on the low wall surrounding St Mary’s churchyard.
‘What do you plan to do?’ Bartholomew asked of Michael as they walked along the High Street. ‘Will you use Thorpe to flush out his accomplice?’
Michael stared at him and pursed his lips. ‘Eligius? I think he is far too clever to be startled into a confession by us confronting Thorpe.’
‘Thorpe strikes me as the sort of person who will try to blame someone else if he sees the net closing in on him,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I am sure he will betray Eligius in an instant if he thinks it will work to his advantage.’
Michael nodded slowly. ‘It is worth a try, I suppose.’
Bartholomew rubbed a hand through his hair. ‘This is a vile business. It has led us to consider how we will bring pressure to bear on someone who is little more than a child to force him to betray his accomplices’ identities.’
‘He is seventeen years old, Matt. He is a man, and he is certainly old enough to commit murder,’ Michael pointed out. He studied Bartholomew’s face, and saw the conflicting emotions there. ‘Edith cannot hold you responsible for Thorpe’s crimes. Grene was foully murdered, and it does not take a genius to predict that dropping a corpse down a well might poison the water. Yet Harper’s body was disposed of with a total disregard for the health of the people who live nearby.’
‘Do you think he was so calculating?’ asked Bartholomew doubtfully. ‘It strikes me that Thorpe is more careless than malicious – he saw the well as a convenient dump and used it without considering the consequences.’
‘Ask the poor people who have been drinking that tainted water whether they give a damn what Thorpe’s intentions were,’ snapped Michael. ‘And you, of all people, should not be excusing his actions, since you have been so desperately trying to physic those who have been ill. Thorpe might be little more than a child, Matt, but he must be apprehended before he does anyone else harm. And you had better hope you are successful because, now Edith and Oswald are no longer protecting him, Thorpe might well turn on them.’