‘So, Fiscurtune was the Waits’ “friend”,’ said Bartholomew. ‘So if we think Ailred and Frith may be related, and we have surmised that Ailred and John Fiscurtune are kinsmen, then we can also assume there is a connection between Frith and Fiscurtune. Frith’s “friend” – Fiscurtune – was his relative, which explains why a powerful merchant deigned to recommend a lowly juggler to his colleagues. Fiscurtune was the reason the Waits were doing well in Chepe. When Turke murdered him, he did more than merely kill a rival fishmonger; he destroyed the basis of the Waits’ success. This is beginning to make sense. Loss of livelihood would be a powerful motive for murder – except that Turke was not murdered, of course.’
‘Gosslinge and Norbert were, though,’ said Michael. ‘But unfortunately, we shall have to wait until Ailred is apprehended before we can test our theories. We should certainly speak to him before we tackle Frith and his cronies, since we have scant evidence to convict them without his testimony. But there are other matters that require our attention first, and one of them is regarding us very balefully.’
‘Quenhyth,’ said Langelee heavily, looking over at the student, who had given up trying to overhear their conversation. ‘Damn the lad! I do not know why he has taken such an unnatural dislike to these Waits.’
‘We have just shown he is right to be wary of them,’ said Michael. ‘Not only have we been told by several different people that they steal from their patrons, we now suspect they are here for a darker purpose.’
‘I do not want them in my College any longer,’ said Langelee decisively. ‘Deynman’s reign as Lord of Misrule is almost over, and even he has grown weary of their uninspired performances. I shall ask them to leave immediately – and damn their written contract.’ He hailed Quenhyth, and asked whether the student knew where the Waits might be.
Quenhyth’s face lit up at the mention of the subject so dear to him. ‘They are in the conclave – which is why I knew it was safe to look through their things.’
‘The conclave?’ asked Langelee suspiciously. ‘I said they were not allowed in the hall or the conclave unless accompanied by a member of the College. Why did you not stop them?’
Quenhyth glowered. ‘They are accompanied by a College member: Kenyngham is with them.’
‘What are they doing?’ asked Bartholomew. He was aware of a sensation of unease developing in the pit of his stomach.
‘They asked whether the conclave was empty, and when he said it was, they told him he and they should go there immediately,’ explained Quenhyth.
‘I do not like the sound of this at all,’ said Bartholomew.
Bartholomew was not the only one uncomfortable with the notion of Kenyngham in company with a rough group of people like the Chepe Waits; Michael and Langelee were worried, too. Langelee led the way down the slippery lane at a cracking pace, dragging Quenhyth with him. Quenhyth looked pleased with himself, as though he imagined he had finally proved some point and was going to avoid a sojourn in the proctors’ cells after all.
‘It was something about prayers,’ he said breathlessly, trying to be helpful. ‘You know how Kenyngham is always praying? Well, Frith asked if he knew any prayers for musicians, or some such nonsense, and Kenyngham offered to teach him some. He said he knows one by St Cecilia.’
Michael stopped dead in his tracks, grateful for a respite from running through the sludgy snow. ‘Kenyngham is praying with the Waits in the conclave? That sounds innocent enough. I thought they were doing something else.’
‘The Waits do not pray!’ said Quenhyth in a sneering voice. ‘They would not know how.’
‘Perhaps that is why they asked Kenyngham to teach them,’ said Michael cautiously. ‘We may be doing Frith an injustice here.’
‘Then they will have no complaint when we burst into the conclave to see what is happening,’ panted Langelee.
‘Actually, I imagine the reason for escorting Kenyngham to the conclave is more closely related to the presence of the chest of gold under the floorboards than to devotions,’ said Bartholomew quietly, taking Michael’s arm and pulling him on.
‘Chest of gold?’ demanded Langelee. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘It is Kenyngham’s turn to keep Dympna,’ explained Michael. ‘Matt thinks it is under the floorboards in the conclave, which is why they have been loose for the past three weeks. But there is a flaw in his reasoning: how could the Waits know where the chest is hidden? Its whereabouts is a closely guarded secret. Even Tulyet does not know where Kenyngham has put it, and Kenyngham is a man who is stubborn about such things. He would never reveal where Dympna was kept, especially to a band of entertainers with a reputation for light fingers.’
‘Ailred,’ said Bartholomew heavily, as another piece of the mystery fell into place. ‘Ailred knew where it was. Tulyet said the keepers tell one other person where they have hidden the chest, in case there is an accident. Kenyngham would not have told Robin, and we know it was not Tulyet, so he must have informed Ailred. And we believe the Waits are Ailred’s accomplices!’
Michael skidded and almost fell in a particularly slick patch of snow. He slowed down, to try to think clearly. ‘The Waits have been the common factor all along – just as you said. They associated with Gosslinge, Turke, Giles and Philippa in London; they were seen with Norbert on the night of his death; and they spoke to Harysone in the King’s Head. It is obvious now we have the whole picture: Frith was the shadowy “Dympna” who met Norbert in St Michael’s, and who was able to escape without being seen by Godric and his classmates.’
‘The Waits probably killed Gosslinge, too,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Perhaps he went to repay a loan, and they thrust the note into his throat when he told them he did not have their money. That may have been why he wore beggarly clothes – to pretend he was poor.’
‘It is possible,’ said Michael. ‘But we should catch these vagabonds before they make off with the gold and harm Kenyngham into the bargain.’
‘Hurry, then,’ said Bartholomew, breaking into a run again. He reached Michaelhouse and struggled with the gate, while the others fidgeted impatiently. As soon as it was open, he tore across the yard, heading for the hall. He almost collided with William, out in the milder weather for some much-needed exercise.
‘I have been evicted,’ said William peevishly. ‘The Waits insisted on being alone with Kenyngham in the conclave, while he taught them some prayers. Why do they not want me there? I know as many prayers as he does.’
Bartholomew did not stop to answer, but pushed past the friar and made for the conclave, racing up the stairs and across the hall. The door was locked, and he kicked at it in frustration.
‘They have him inside,’ he shouted to Langelee, who was behind him.
‘Calm down, Matt,’ said Langelee, pulling him away. ‘If the Waits have locked themselves in, then they have just sealed the door to their own prison. There is only one way in or out of the conclave, and that is through this door. We have them.’
‘That is not the point!’ said Bartholomew in agitation. ‘Kenyngham is in there. He may be in danger. And they do balancing acts for a living, so do not imagine they cannot escape through the windows. Send Quenhyth to stand in the courtyard and sound the alarm if they try to leave that way. And fetch an axe.’
‘An axe?’ asked Langelee in horror. ‘You are not taking an axe to one of my doors!’
‘Kenyngham is alone with men who have killed,’ hissed Bartholomew, grabbing the Master by the front of his gown. ‘We will smash down the walls, if we have to.’
‘There is no need to resort to that kind of measure,’ said Michael calmly. He studied the door for a moment, took several steps back, and then powered towards it with his shoulder held like a battering ram. Bartholomew winced, anticipating broken bones. But just as Michael reached it, the door was opened and Kenyngham peered out, curious to know what had caused the sudden commotion in the hall. Michael shot past him, and there was a loud crash.