‘But what Helbye saw was valuable,’ said Bartholomew encouragingly. ‘I imagine you have been concentrating on craft travelling north and east – towards the Fens. But he saw one heading south, which will give you a new place to look for the thieves’ base.’
‘I monitor all the waterways and roads, regardless of direction, and that barge was not carrying your bell, no matter what Helbye thinks. No boat or cart that could have been toting such an item has left the town.’
‘Then it is still here,’ surmised Michael. ‘Stashed away until you lower your guard.’
‘Yes, but where? So much material has gone missing – all of it heavy or bulky – that a house or a large shed would be needed to store it all. I have searched all the likely places, but there is no sign of it.’
‘Then perhaps it is cached in lots – a bit here and a bit there,’ suggested Bartholomew. ‘Or it has been moved piecemeal. Lead does not take up much room when it is rolled up, so perhaps it was hidden in a handcart or a travelling pack.’
Tulyet eyed him lugubriously. ‘We would have found it, believe me.’
At that moment the door opened and Robin walked in. The young soldier looked around doubtfully as he approached their table, clearly of the opinion that the Sheriff had lost his wits by frequenting such an insalubrious establishment. Bartholomew was inclined to agree when the taverner began to bring the food that Michael had ordered – a plate of greasy fried pork and a pot of something that reeked powerfully of garlic.
‘A letter has arrived for you, sir,’ said Robin. ‘I thought it might be important, so I decided to deliver it at once.’
Tulyet glanced at the seal, but tossed it on the table when it was one he did not recognise, more interested in what else Robin had to tell him.
‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘What did you find out? Which boats and carts left the town last night, and what were they carrying?’
‘One barge and three carts,’ reported Robin promptly. ‘The men searched them all, as per your orders. The boat was empty, and the carts carried sacks of flour. Then there was the usual trickle of folk going to the King’s Head, along with two horsemen. They frisked the drinkers but not the riders.’
‘Why not?’ asked Tulyet sharply. ‘I said no exceptions.’
‘Because one was that envoy from Rochester, who told them that he was on urgent University business and needed to hurry – which was true, as Cynric was there, and wished him God’s speed. Once he was through the gate, the lads say he took off like lightning – he was riding Satan, you see.’
‘Stephen,’ corrected Tulyet automatically. He explained to the scholars. ‘I could hardly keep the animal after what happened to Moleyns, but I could not bring myself to destroy him either, so I sold him to King’s Hall.’
‘Whittlesey,’ said Michael through gritted teeth. ‘Who used Cynric’s chance presence to deceive your men, because he is not on any business of ours. And the lie certainly means we shall have questions to ask when Meadowman drags him back. Who was the other horseman?’
‘Master Godrich of King’s Hall,’ replied Robin, ‘who left a couple of hours earlier. It is a good thing there was a full moon, or riding would have been very treacherous for–’
‘Godrich?’ cried Michael. ‘But we have been scouring the town for him for hours!’
‘Have you?’ said Robin, startled. ‘Then it is a pity you did not ask our sentries – they could have told you not to bother.’
‘I did ask them,’ snapped Michael. ‘They told me that they had not seen him.’
‘They must have misunderstood your question,’ said Robin, spreading his hands apologetically.
Michael knew that was unlikely, but was not surprised he had been misled. He and Tulyet worked well together, but the same was not true of their people – the soldiers struck sly blows at the University at every opportunity, while the beadles did the same to the castle. The guards had no doubt taken great delight in watching their rivals hunt for someone who was not there.
‘When did Godrich go exactly?’ he asked between gritted teeth.
‘Before nocturns,’ replied Robin. ‘Perhaps two o’clock, or a little later. The lads say he also set off like greased lightning.’
‘Did either mention where they were going?’ asked Tulyet.
‘The envoy did not, but Godrich thought the boys were taking too long to open the gate, and muttered that he would never reach Royston if they worked at the pace of snails. So that is where he was heading.’
‘A journey of less than fifteen miles,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘But why there?’
‘Because it has an inn where you can hire fresh horses,’ explained Tulyet. ‘It is not necessarily his final destination.’
‘Did he seem frightened or uneasy?’ asked Michael urgently of Robin. ‘As if he was fleeing for his life?’
Robin shook his head. ‘Apparently, he was just his usual self – arrogant, rude and nasty.’
‘Well, at least he is not dead,’ said Bartholomew. ‘That is good news.’
‘He was not dead at two o’clock last night,’ corrected Michael. ‘But that was hours ago, and Whittlesey is hot on his trail, riding a very fast horse. I had better send more beadles after them. Meadowman needs to know that he might be required to defend Godrich from attack.’
‘He also needs to know that he must bring both of them back,’ added Tulyet. ‘I will send soldiers to help. If Whittlesey is the rogue who killed my prisoner, then the castle should play a role in his capture.’
‘The Benedictine will not be caught,’ predicted Robin. ‘Not if he is riding Satan.’
‘Even Stephen will need to rest at some point,’ said Tulyet briskly. ‘Now go and pick four of our best men–’
‘Preferably ones who understand that we are all working to the same end,’ put in Michael acidly.
‘–and tell them to meet the beadles at the Trumpington Gate,’ finished Tulyet. ‘Hurry!’
‘I am confused,’ said Bartholomew, watching Robin stride away. ‘Everything made sense – after a fashion – when we thought Whittlesey was the killer, who fled when he realised Godrich’s murder was one too many. But now we learn that Godrich went first. Why? Could he be the culprit after all? In which case, why did Whittlesey go after him?’
‘Perhaps Whittlesey aims to corner Godrich himself,’ suggested Tulyet. ‘Or he wants to help him escape – they are cousins, after all. Or maybe Godrich left on some unrelated mission, and has no idea that a ruthless killer is on his heels.’
‘And Whittlesey is up to no good, or he would not have lied to the sentries,’ said Michael worriedly. ‘Moreover, Godrich spent a fortune on buying votes, and I strongly suspect that he did not intend to be gone for long. The fact that he has failed to return bodes very ill, as far as I am concerned.’
‘Well, there is no use in speculating,’ said Tulyet practically. ‘We shall have answers when our people bring them back.’
‘If they bring them back,’ said Michael grimly. ‘They have a significant lead.’
But Bartholomew was shaking his head. ‘Tynkell and Moleyns were murdered in front of dozens of witnesses, telling us that the killer is bold, confident and ruthless. He is not someone who runs at the first sign of trouble, and especially not from the paltry “evidence” that we have managed to put together. He would stay and brazen it out.’