‘Not as much as they care about their purses,’ retorted Michael, and then frowned. ‘Do I hear Hopeman’s voice coming from your domain?’
‘I am afraid so,’ sighed Milde. ‘He just marched in and began holding forth. I shall be glad when this election is over, as I am tired of all these aggravating speeches.’
Michael and Bartholomew went to listen. The building was full, and Hopeman’s dark face burned with the power of his convictions as he informed his listeners that a vote for Suttone was an invitation for the Devil to rule the University. Michael was about to go and suggest he choose his words with more care when he was hailed by an urgent shout.
‘Brother! Brother!’ cried Nicholas, distraught. ‘My little bell has gone! Gone!’
Michael frowned his bemusement. ‘What little bell?’
‘Someone sneaked up the tower and made off with her,’ sobbed the secretary, wringing his hands in distress. ‘We only have two left. My poor bell! What will become of her?’
‘You mean one of the bells that Oswald bought?’ asked Bartholomew, wondering if Nicholas had been at Frisby’s claret. ‘But that is impossible. They are heavy – hardly something that can be tossed over one’s shoulder and toted away.’
‘Nor were Master Wilson’s ledger slab, Dallingridge’s feet and Holty’s pinnacles,’ wailed Nicholas, ‘but they were stolen. And now my little treble has suffered the same fate.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Michael, turning and beginning to hurry back to St Mary the Great. ‘Did you take Meadowman’s keys and go to look?’
‘Of course not! I never go up the tower alone, as I have told you before.’
‘Then how–’
‘I was afraid they might get stiff if they were left unused for days on end,’ sniffed the secretary. ‘So I gave their ropes a bit of a tug.’
Michael raised admonishing eyebrows. ‘But I issued an edict that they were not to be rung until after the election.’
‘I was not ringing them, Brother. I was making sure they were in good working order. The bigger two sounded faintly when I pulled their ropes, but my treble … who could have done such a dreadful thing?’
They reached St Mary the Great, where Michael began the laborious process of unlocking the tower door. Then he climbed up the stairs, with Bartholomew behind and Nicholas bringing up the rear, still weeping. They reached the bell chamber to discover that one of the great metal domes was indeed missing. When he saw it, Nicholas dropped to his knees and sobbed so violently that Bartholomew was concerned for his health.
‘Edith will buy you another,’ he said kindly. He had no idea if it was true, but he had to say something to stem the frenzied outpouring of grief.
‘But what will happen to her?’ cried Nicholas, when he had controlled himself enough to speak. ‘Will she be sold to another church or … melted down?’ The last words were spoken in an appalled gulp that precipitated a fresh wave of tears.
‘Neither,’ said Michael, patting his shoulder comfortingly. ‘As Matt said, bells are heavy, and cannot be toted about like sacks of grain. Someone will have seen the thieves, and we shall get her back. Matt – climb up to the frame and tell me how it was done.’
Bartholomew was tempted to tell the monk to do it himself, but Nicholas shot him a pleading look, so he put his foot in the stirrup formed by Michael’s hands and hauled himself upwards. However, when he put his hand on the frame to steady himself, he felt it move in its moorings, and jumped back down again fast.
‘Heavens!’ he exclaimed, glancing up uneasily. ‘It is loose.’
‘It is supposed to be loose,’ sniffled Nicholas. ‘The tower will crack if the frame is too rigidly attached to the walls. Just ask any bell-hanger. It needs to be able to rock.’
‘I see,’ said Bartholomew, making a mental note never to stand beneath the bells when they were ringing. He turned to Michael. ‘The thieves unfastened the bolts that secured the treble to its headstock. Then they lowered it to the floor, opened the trapdoor, and winched it down to the narthex.’
The trapdoor in question had been cut into the middle of the floor when the bells had been installed, as they had been too big to fit through the windows or up the stairs. It was a flimsy affair, which had worked to the thieves’ advantage – a child could have lifted it up.
‘There was all manner of filth on the narthex floor when I went to ring … I mean to test the bells this morning,’ whispered Nicholas unsteadily. ‘Dust, feathers, pigeon droppings … I assumed those filthy masons were responsible, getting ready to work on Tynkell’s tomb.’
‘When did you last see the treble?’ asked Bartholomew.
‘When you dragged me up here to demonstrate how the thief “locked” the Chest Room yesterday,’ sniffed Nicholas. ‘However, I know she was still here at three o’clock this morning, because I gave her a bit of a tug just before nocturns. I felt her swing.’
‘The villains chose their time well,’ mused Michael. ‘The church is rarely empty, even in the small hours, but it was different last night. Too many scholars are angry about the election, so I told my beadles to oust everyone after each sacred office, to prevent spats.’
‘And you gave the order that the bells are not to be rung until Wednesday,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The thieves assume that they will not be missed until the election, and probably aim to come back for another tonight and the last one tomorrow.’
Nicholas stopped crying and a vengeful expression suffused his face. ‘Then I shall stand guard, and when they appear I shall run them through. Where can I get a sword, Brother? I want one with a very sharp point, because no one attacks my bells and lives to tell the tale.’
‘I think we had better let the beadles do it,’ said Michael kindly.
‘This dust,’ said Bartholomew, prodding a pile of wood shavings with his toe. ‘Someone has been sawing. Are you sure the frame is safe, Nicholas? Because if you are wrong, the remaining bells – and perhaps the frame, too – will crash through this floor and land in the narthex. On you, if you happen to be ringing them.’
Nicholas gave him a pitying look. ‘I see you know nothing about the technicalities of bell-hanging. The frame is designed to last a lifetime, and it will take more than a bit of sawing to render it unsound. The bells are quite safe, I assure you.’
They returned to the nave, where Michael detailed a few beadles to monitor the tower, as well as questioning visitors to the church about the missing bell.
‘The Sheriff will help us find it,’ he said to Nicholas, who had started to sob again. ‘A bell is bulkier and more distinctive than slabs of stone. We will catch the villains, never fear.’
‘Good,’ snuffled Nicholas. ‘Because I have set my heart on ringing them when the next Chancellor is elected. All of them, not just two.’
Chapter 13
For the second time that morning, Bartholomew and Michael set out for the castle, now with even more reason to speak to the Sheriff, but were saved from climbing the hill when they met Tulyet on the Great Bridge. He was striding along briskly with a wet and very muddy Helbye at his heels. The older man was struggling to keep up with him.
‘What have you been doing to get into such a state?’ Bartholomew asked the sergeant, while Michael gave Tulyet a brief summary of all that had happened since they had last met.