His breath suddenly caught in his throat. Tulyet had said that he was still concerned that he did not have the outlaws who had been terrorising the roads around Cambridge. Was one of the outlaws Harling? Bartholomew was so confused he did not know what to think.
‘Then why am I still at large?’ asked Harling, smiling coldly as he read the physician’s thoughts. ‘And all the others who have been helping me? Why have we not been arrested? I tell you again, Bartholomew, if Brother Michael informed you that he passed Dame Pelagia’s list of names to Tulyet, then he is lying.’
‘Michael told Tulyet all she had to tell,’ insisted Bartholomew. He watched beads of rain slide off Harling’s greased hair, and the first seeds of doubt began to grow in his mind. If Dame Pelagia knew Harling to be a smuggler, then Michael most certainly had not told Tulyet: Harling was one of the few people in the town whose name was not on the list. Was Michael deliberately shielding the Vice-Chancellor in order to save the University from the embarrassment of having a criminal at its helm?
Harling raised his eyebrows, amused. ‘You are loyal to your friends, which is more than can be said for Brother Michael. He has lied to you, Bartholomew – he has told the Sheriff nothing. Now, where is Dame Pelagia?’
‘I do not know,’ stammered Bartholomew.
‘You are not good at deceit,’ said Harling, unimpressed by Bartholomew’s feeble attempt to lie. ‘In fact, you are almost as dreadful as Michael is accomplished. I see you still do not believe me. Michael is clever and ambitious: do you think he will allow your friendship to stand between him and his goals of power and wealth? Of course he will not! And a man who passes up the offer of the Mastership of Valence Marie to wait for something better is ambitious indeed! Michael is fully aware that the smuggling ring he uncovered involves high-ranking members of the hostels and the Colleges, and that to expose it would have been an embarrassment to the University.’
‘But he did expose it,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘Tulyet knows several heads of houses and eminent scholars who were involved.’
‘Really?’ asked Harling with heavy sarcasm. ‘Then why do you think he suggested his clever solution – warning people to give them more time to hide the fruits of their crimes – to Tulyet? Do you think it was to save the merchants? Of course it was not! It was for the benefit of silly scholars, like the greedy opportunists from Michaelhouse – Alcote, Paul, William and Runham – not to mention Colton from Gonville and Lynton from Peterhouse.’
‘But the scholars were not treated differently from the merchants,’ said Bartholomew.
‘That is patently untrue!’ snapped Harling. ‘It is the merchants who will pay the heavy taxes the King will impose when he learns of this, not the University. And while the merchants’ actions will be bandied about for all to hear, the scholars’ role will be downplayed. As I said, Michael will not want the University embarrassed by this affair, because what embarrasses the University will embarrass its patron, the King. Do you think Michael will risk the wrath of the King when his greedy sights are set so high? Be honest with yourself, Bartholomew! Will he?’
Bartholomew swallowed. He was uncertain. Michael was ambitious, and he would certainly think twice about exposing some devilish plot if he thought the King might not like it. Father Paul’s warning suddenly came unbidden into his mind: Paul had told Bartholomew that Michael’s ambition might bring him to harm. Would it? Bartholomew wanted to believe not, but at the back of his mind there was a nagging doubt. But why would Michael lie to Tulyet about what Dame Pelagia knew?
‘Michael told Tulyet he could provide him with the names of these smugglers,’ he said, thinking quickly. ‘Tulyet sent him to do it immediately. Do you think the Sheriff would have let the matter drop if Michael had failed to come up with the information he wanted?’
‘I think Michael fed Tulyet false information,’ said Harling with a shrug. ‘I believe he sat in All Saints’ Hostel, guzzling their wine, and made up a list of names that would send Tulyet on a wild-goose chase.’
‘That was no wild-goose chase,’ said Bartholomew. ‘A good many Fenland smugglers were caught. If Michael’s intelligence was false, how did Tulyet know to arrest them?’
‘But Michael’s so-called intelligence was all but worthless to Tulyet,’ said Harling in exasperation. ‘Tulyet is still seeking those he considers more dangerous than peddlers of figs, and shabby little Fenmen.’
‘And you consider yourself something better, I suppose,’ said Bartholomew, wearied by Harling’s accusations, and with a sick feeling gnawing at the back of his mind that somewhere in the Vice-Chancellor’s story there might be a grain of truth.
‘Of course I am something more!’ snapped Harling. ‘My interests extend further than cheap gloves from France. Unlike you, it seems.’ He gave Bartholomew’s hands a disparaging glance.
‘But why are you doing this?’ cried Bartholomew suddenly, looking at the University’s second-in-command as his mind failed to make any sense of what the man was telling him. ‘You are the Vice-Chancellor!’
‘Precisely,’ spat Harling. ‘Vice-Chancellor! I have worked hard for this University, and I am Vice-Chancellor! The masters voted for that nonentity Tynkell over me. And Tynkell finally dragged himself from the pleasures of the Bishop’s palace at Ely today, so there is no real need for me at all. Brother Michael has leached away any powers the Vice-Chancellor might have had, and it is not me Tynkell calls upon when there are important matters to discuss – it is that fat monk. So, when the opportunity came to indulge in something a little different, I decided to take advantage of it, and it has made me a wealthy man. As soon as I have Dame Pelagia, I am leaving Cambridge. And there will be an end to it. Now, where have you hidden her?’
Bartholomew gazed desperately at the swirling brown water. He guessed that as soon as Harling had what he wanted, he would show Bartholomew precisely how skilled he was with his weapon – as he had done with poor Philius. He wondered if he should jump in the river to avoid answering Harling and betraying the whereabouts of Dame Pelagia. But then what would happen to Gray? He rubbed a hand through his hair and met Harling’s glittering black eyes.
‘I cannot tell you,’ he said unsteadily. ‘She is an old lady.’ And Matilde was with her, he thought. Matilde should not be exposed to any more danger just because she had been kind enough to hide Dame Pelagia at his request.
‘Then Gray will die,’ said Harling with a shrug. ‘And I will find Dame Pelagia in the end – Brother Michael is sure to visit her at some point. Your telling me will just save us some time. Hurry up, Bartholomew. Or do you want Gray’s death to be on your head – for nothing?’
‘How do I know you will not kill him anyway?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘How can I trust you to let him go?’
‘You cannot,’ said Harling. ‘But you are not in a position to negotiate.’
‘How do I know you even have him at all?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘You might be bluffing.’
‘I might be,’ said Harling, ‘but are you prepared to take that risk?’
Bartholomew thought of Matilde and her long silky hair. She was an innocent in all this, just like Gray. The only reason they were involved was because they were unfortunate enough to be acquainted with Bartholomew. He should never have suggested to Michael that they use Matilde’s house to hide Dame Pelagia, and he had no doubt that once he had told Harling where to look, Matilde would be sacrificed to ensure her silence, just as would Dame Pelagia. And Gray? Harling could well be making the whole thing up: Gray would not be an easy person to take hostage because he was quick-witted, resourceful and ruthless.