‘Very selective wild animal,’ muttered Bartholomew. ‘Taking only hands and head.’
Michael moved restlessly, and the candlelight glittered on the ornate crucifix he had worn since the installation. Bartholomew saw it had caught Harling’s eye, too, and suddenly the Vice-Chancellor’s business in the Fens became crystal clear. He had said, quite clearly, that he was not interested in clothes and fruit, and that he considered himself in a league far beyond all the other casual opportunists. And, when Bartholomew saw him looking at Michael’s cross, Bartholomew knew exactly what the Vice-Chancellor’s trade had been.
‘Treasure,’ he exclaimed. ‘You are smuggling treasure!’
‘Good again,’ said Harling appraisingly. ‘Gold and silver is indeed what my companions and I have been smuggling. It was astonishingly easy: boats were available; pilots were ready to be hired to take the cargo through the Fens; and officials had been bribed so many times before that they had not the slightest qualm about being bought into silence again.’
‘But where does it come from?’ asked Bartholomew. He tried to rise, but Langelee’s foot was immovable.
‘It comes from Brittany,’ said Michael in sudden understanding. ‘Oswald Stanmore and I were telling you only the other day how hostilities between England and France might have died down, but that the war is still very much in progress in Brittany: there have been many reports of bands of the King’s men roaming the country to attack villages and religious houses.’
‘And you are buying the treasures from these sacked religious houses and smuggling them into England?’ asked Bartholomew of Harling. He answered his own question. ‘Items like Philius’s collection of crucifixes, the handsome chalices at Valence Marie and the gold plate at Denny are all objects monasteries and convents would own – and that would be easy for looters to carry away.’
‘I had surmised as much,’ said Dame Pelagia casually. ‘When I saw that gold plate on which the Abbess served us cakes, I knew it was nothing the Countess had donated. It was Italian and the Countess is not an admirer of Italian craftsmanship.’
‘It is really very simple,’ said Harling. ‘There is no market for plundered church plate in Brittany, and so, unless the soldiers doing the ransacking do not mind donating their treasure to the King’s bottomless coffers, the only way they can profit from their hard work is by selling it to me – cheaply, of course. I then bring it to England where I can sell it at a suitably inflated price. You bought something of mine, I see, Brother.’
Harling eyed Michael’s gold cross again. Michael looked shifty, but did not offer to return it. Harling went on.
‘Philius bought some, too, which I later reclaimed. But I know when to stop, and I have more than enough wealth to keep me and my companions comfortable for the rest of our lives. Of late, I have been unable to control the soldiers I hired to bring the treasure through the Fens. They began to attack travellers on the roads and then even places in the town – like the Round Church and St Clement’s Hostel. It would have been unfortunate to have them recognised as the perpetrators of these crimes while they were visiting me on business.’
‘So it was you who sent them to kill us in the Fens?’ asked Michael.
‘You are tenacious when it comes to mysteries,’ said Harling smoothly. ‘I knew it would be only a matter of time before your investigation of the poisoned wine led you to me – or to one of my companions who would not have had the nerve to brazen it out. When you did not accept that Bingham had murdered Grene – as Eligius very conveniently believed – I decided to take action before you had time to begin an inquiry. I sent my best man, Alan of Norwich, to deal with you, but he failed miserably. On my orders, Egil returned to look for you, but he met with his unfortunate accident.’ He turned to Edward. ‘You are lucky to escape that marriage, my friend!’
Bartholomew saw Langelee tense and shoot Edward a nasty glance.
‘And was it you Julianna heard talking at the abbey, and who later set fire to the guesthall?’ asked Michael, oblivious to the exchange between Julianna’s suitors.
Harling sighed. ‘Of course not. Had that been me, we would not be having this conversation now – you would have died in the fire. Those were a couple of clerks who work at St Mary’s Church, and who have let me down badly with their bungled attempt on your lives.’
‘And another attempt was made when that puny little fellow tried to knife me,’ said Michael. ‘And, simultaneously, someone else was waiting to shoot Matt with a crossbow outside Gonville Hall.’
‘The man with the crossbow was me,’ said Harling. ‘When John came running out as though the Devil himself was after him, I guessed he had revealed something he should not have done and so I shot him instead. Bartholomew was not an immediate threat at that point, and I knew I could come back for him at a later date.’
‘But how did you know I would visit Gonville?’ asked Bartholomew, easing himself up slightly when Langelee’s attentions seemed to be more on considering Edward’s association with Julianna than on Harling’s revelations, ‘Did Colton tell you he had summoned me?’
Harling sighed. ‘Think, man! I had just killed Philius. Who was Master Colton going to call to help him under such circumstances? All I had to do was wait, because I knew either you or Michael would come. And I was right.’
‘I see why the Abbess did not object when I suggested we might stay longer at Denny,’ said Michael. ‘She, of course, knows all about what you are doing and was perfectly happy to see us roasted alive in her guesthall. She even used Julianna’s wiles to keep us there instead of reprimanding her lewd behavior as any good Abbess would have done. I was very wrong about her – I thought she was noble and saintly.’
‘What lewd behaviour?’ demanded Langelee, removing his hefty foot from Bartholomew and moving towards Michael. Bartholomew scrambled to his feet. ‘You slander that fine woman’s name, Brother.’
Michael stood his ground. ‘She offered to perform “little services” if we remained at Denny. It is possible that her intentions were innocent, but they certainly would not sound so to a worldly ear.’
‘But you are a monk!’ exploded Langelee. ‘You are not supposed to possess a worldly ear!’
‘I was referring to the Abbess,’ said Michael primly. ‘Master Harling’s partner in crime. She was your accomplice, I assume.’
‘Naturally,’ said Harling. ‘I needed someone of intelligence and integrity whom I could trust in all this. She has proved herself superb. Who would ever guess she was involved? You did not – until now, and now it is too late to do anything about it.’
‘And where is Deynman?’ demanded Bartholomew, suddenly weary of Harling’s boasting.
‘Deynman? You mean Gray? I never had him. You were right when you said I was bluffing – he is probably in some tavern. But enough of this. Langelee, you volunteered to dispatch them for me. Do so, and then return to Michaelhouse to await payment. You will forgive me if I do not stay. But do not take long over it – all this must be completed before any more of the night is lost.’
He turned and strode out of the room, followed by Edward and the lay sister who held Dame Pelagia by her arm. Langelee drew a long hunting knife and turned towards Bartholomew.