‘Dallingridge was not poisoned,’ snapped Kolvyle irritably. ‘He died of natural causes, as I have told you on countless occasions. And Godrich is telling the truth about Lammas Day – I would have noticed if he had been at the feast in the castle.’
‘Dallingridge wrote a list of all the people he suspected of killing him,’ Michael retorted. ‘It included you, so forgive me if I do not accept your opinion on the matter.’ He turned back to William. ‘And third, Godrich stoops to buying votes to make himself Chancellor.’
‘I heard that he turned to the Devil for help during the plague, too,’ said William, cutting across the response Kolvyle started to make. ‘He bought charms and spells from witches to keep himself safe.’
‘Many people did,’ said Clippesby, hugging a mangy dog. ‘And we should not judge them too harshly for what happened during that terrible time.’
‘We should if they want to be Chancellor,’ retorted Suttone. ‘Because they might do it again, when the disease sweeps through us a second time.’ Rashly, he addressed Kolvyle. ‘I trust this will make you rethink your allegiance to him?’
Kolvyle’s face was hard and cold. ‘And vote for you? Do not make me laugh!’
‘I will make a good Chancellor,’ protested Suttone, stung. ‘I am a–’
‘You will never be elected,’ declared Kolvyle viciously. ‘But if you are, I shall threaten to resign. And that means you will not keep your post for long, because no one will choose an old man over the University’s brightest young mind.’
‘Be careful what you promise,’ warned Langelee, while the others blinked their astonishment at such brazen hubris. ‘Thelnetham resigned in favour of a better offer, and he ended up with nothing.’
‘And good riddance!’ scoffed Kolvyle. ‘But I am different, because I am a rising star, whereas he is just another elderly has-been. Like the rest of you.’
‘Now just a moment,’ said William dangerously. ‘I am in the prime of my–’
‘You are all too old,’ Kolvyle declared contemptuously. ‘And it is time a clean sweep was made to rid the University of its deadwood.’
He turned and stalked away, but Michael raised his hand when William started after him. ‘Leave him. He is not worth the effort.’
William scowled. ‘Even Thelnetham was nicer than him, and that is saying something. I recommend we never hire any more Fellows. They are a menace!’
‘Other than Aungel,’ said Langelee. ‘We shall enrol him when Bartholomew abandons us for matrimonial bliss. He has his failings, but better the devil you know.’
‘I am not going anywhere,’ said Bartholomew, disliking the way his future was being decided without him. ‘At least, not yet. I shall see out the academic year, no matter what.’
‘You will not need to go at all if Suttone is Chancellor,’ said William. ‘He will let you have your woman and keep your Fellowship.’
‘I will,’ agreed Suttone. ‘And why not? It is stupid to lose a good teacher, just because he has normal manly appetites. However, I hope Godrich is not dead. He has powerful friends at Court, and I do not want the King accusing me of his murder.’ Then a thought occurred to him, and he blanched. ‘Lord! Do you think I am in danger? After all, we started with five candidates, but now we are four.’
‘There is no harm in being careful,’ replied Michael. ‘So Cynric can stay with you today.’
‘Tell us what you learned at King’s Hall last night, Brother,’ said Langelee, returning to his original question. ‘Should we be concerned for Godrich’s safety?’
‘Unfortunately, I think we should,’ replied the monk unhappily. ‘Especially as Whittlesey seems to be missing too.’
‘Whittlesey?’ echoed Langelee, shocked. ‘God’s teeth! The Church will be livid if anything happens to him. He is the Archbishop of Canterbury’s favourite nephew, and an important cleric in his own right.’
‘Godrich organised a feast at King’s Hall in Whittlesey’s honour,’ Michael went on, ‘but neither appeared for it and I am very worried. As I said, Godrich was my chief suspect, but now he has vanished … well, it just bodes ill.’
‘This dog,’ said Clippesby, indicating the creature in his arms. ‘She is the one who was made to run across the road when Moleyns died – after a bone. A lamb shank, she says.’
‘And?’ demanded Michael eagerly. ‘Is she going to tell us who threw it?’
‘She does not know. However, she tells me that it was definitely not Godrich, because he loves dogs, and would never have put one in danger.’
Michael seized his arm urgently. ‘Are you sure? Please, Clippesby – no madness now. This is important, because if Godrich can be eliminated as a suspect, then it means he probably is dead. And Whittlesey with him. They were rarely out of each other’s company these last few days, so Whittlesey may have been dispatched just because he was in the killer’s way.’
‘I am sure. I happened to be watching Godrich when Moleyns fell off his horse – one of his hounds was limping, you see, and I was waiting for an opportunity to tell him so. He did run towards the mêlée, but he did not kill Moleyns. I would have noticed.’
‘Damn it, Clippesby!’ cried Michael, exasperated. ‘Why did you not tell me this at once?’
‘Because I did not know that Godrich was a suspect until you announced it just now.’
‘I do not suppose you noticed Whittlesey in the scrum, did you?’ asked Michael, fighting down his frustration. The other-worldly Dominican often closed his eyes to the sordid affairs of men; most of the time, Michael did not blame him.
‘I did, actually,’ replied Clippesby serenely. ‘He was trailing after you and Matt, although I did not know then that he was an envoy from Rochester. When Moleyns fell, he raced forward with the rest, but I did not see what he did when he got there.’
‘I never did like Whittlesey,’ declared William. ‘Too greasy by half. He killed Tynkell, Moleyns and Lyng. Then he dispatched Godrich, but realised it was one murder too many, so he fled while he was still able.’
‘But they are cousins,’ Suttone reminded him.
‘Quite,’ said William tartly. ‘People are far more likely to kill their family than strangers – you can usually avoid the one, but you are stuck with the other until death.’
Not long after, when the debate about the killer’s identity was still in full swing, the door opened to admit Thelnetham and Nicholas. The Gilbertine was wearing pink hose, shoes with shiny silver tassels, and his cloak was fastened by the gaudy purple-jewelled brooch. He opened his mouth to address the Fellows, but sneezed twice in quick succession instead. When he tried a second time to speak, he was convulsed by four more.
‘It is the dog,’ explained Nicholas. ‘They always have this effect on him.’
‘Take her outside, Clippesby,’ ordered Langelee. ‘Or we will never hear what Thelnetham has to tell us.’
‘I should have known better than to visit when he was here,’ wheezed Thelnetham, eyes streaming as he glared after the Dominican. ‘It reminds me why I was so glad to leave.’
‘You were not glad,’ countered William spitefully. ‘You begged to be reinstated.’
‘Then thank the good Lord I was not,’ snapped Thelnetham, dabbing at his nose with a piece of puce silk. ‘Because it means I shall not have to wait until the end of term before I return to my Mother House in Lincolnshire.’