‘Tysilia would disagree,’ muttered the clerk, staring at the dusty white legs that poked from under the gargoyle.
‘But I have noticed fresh falls myself,’ argued Bartholomew, not sure that he believed de Lisle. ‘That angel, for example.’
But even as he pointed at the carving, he could see fresh marks on it, where it had apparently been chiselled away from its holding. He stared at it in confusion. De Lisle watched him.
‘It seems to me that someone wanted people to believe the transept was dangerous so that they would stay out,’ de Lisle surmised. ‘And everyone was to stay out because here are the proceeds from those thefts.’
‘Leycestre,’ murmured Bartholomew to himself. ‘So that is what he and John were discussing so furtively. No wonder John knew about the burglaries – it may even have been his idea to use the cathedral as a storeroom.’
‘What?’ demanded de Lisle. ‘What are you muttering about?’
‘Nothing,’ said Bartholomew, thinking of his promise to John. He supposed he would be justified in breaking it, given that John had kept a substantial part of the truth from him, but he did not want to see the priest suffer the kind of fate that might well be in store for Leycestre.
‘Gather this treasure together,’ de Lisle instructed his clerk and steward. He sighed impatiently when he saw them glance nervously at the ceiling. ‘I have told you it is safe. Someone deliberately caused the fall you just saw, and it will not happen again.’
‘It might,’ said Ralph fearfully. ‘Someone will not want us taking all this treasure.’
‘No one is up there,’ said de Lisle in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘When you have collected it you can take it to my house, where we will arrange for the victims of these thefts to reclaim what is rightfully theirs.’
‘What, all of it?’ asked Ralph in horror.
De Lisle thought for a moment. ‘Well, we will remove a little something as our reward for finding it. I shall need funds now that I have to pay for a requiem mass.’ He looked back at the crumpled form beneath the statue. ‘My fallen angel!’
‘I think that is a pig, actually,’ said Ralph, turning his head to inspect the gargoyle.
‘I meant Tysilia,’ said de Lisle in a strangled voice. ‘My poor Tysilia!’
‘Yes?’ came a muffled voice from the ground.
Ralph and the clerk backed away in alarm, while de Lisle and Bartholomew gazed at Tysilia’s body in astonishment. De Lisle crossed himself quickly.
‘It is a miracle!’ the Bishop whispered, awed. ‘St Etheldreda has brought her back to us. I just hope she still has a head to claim as her own – life could be difficult without one, and the saints often forget this sort of detail when they perform their miracles.’
‘She has managed without a brain so far,’ muttered Bartholomew, kneeling to examine her. ‘And she was not dead in the first place: this statue has fallen in such a way that I think she is unscathed.’
‘But you told me she was dead!’ shouted de Lisle accusingly. ‘You are a physician, so I believed you.’
‘I did no such thing,’ retorted Bartholomew. ‘You would not let me near her.’
He felt under the stone, then took Tysilia’s feet and hauled her in an undignified manner from beneath the pig. When he released her, she sat up, her hair a dusty mess around her face and her clothes in ruins. She took a deep breath and shook her head, as though to clear it. Ralph and the clerk took a hasty step backward, as though they imagined she might shake it from her shoulders and they did not want to be nearby when it happened.
‘That was not nice,’ she declared. ‘It was quite dark for a few moments, as though I was in my bed asleep. But of course I was not, was I?’
‘Tysilia!’ exclaimed de Lisle in delight, leaning forward to give her a heartfelt embrace.
‘I am hungry,’ she said, fending him off. ‘And I do not like this church. What do you say to a visit to a tavern? There are lots of very nice young men in taverns.’
‘Whatever you say,’ said de Lisle fondly, helping her to her feet and taking her hand to lead her away from the rubble.
‘I thought we were rid of her for a moment,’ said Ralph, sounding deeply disappointed. ‘But St Etheldreda stepped in and saved her, just as the Bishop said. It just goes to show that even saints can make mistakes sometimes.’
Chapter 11
‘And she just sat up and shook herself?’ asked Michael, half amazed and half amused by Tysilia’s reaction to her brush with death when Bartholomew gave him details of the miraculous escape as they sat in the refectory at sunset. An early evening meal had already been served, but Michael had managed to inveigle himself something extra from the kitchens. ‘She did not complain of a headache or start to weep from fright?’
‘She said she was hungry, and was bored by de Lisle’s exclamations of delight and relief.’
‘And the gargoyle had fallen in such a way as to leave her completely unharmed?’
‘More or less. De Lisle thinks St Etheldreda intervened. But what shall we do about Leycestre? Shall we lie in wait and catch him red-handed as he relieves Alan of the monastic silver tonight?’
‘Given our performance in the Bone House, I am not sure that is wise,’ said Michael. ‘And Leycestre’s crimes are irrelevant to us anyway. It is the killer I want to catch, not a man with a penchant for other people’s property.’
‘But it is still possible they are one and the same,’ said Bartholomew. ‘John said Glovere, Chaloner and Haywarde all expressed no interest in Leycestre’s rebellion, and it occurred to him that Leycestre had murdered them.’
‘But he has no evidence,’ Michael pointed out. ‘John is a frightened man who realises that he cannot follow his conscience and the law at the same time. He is afraid of everyone. And how do you know he has not already told Leycestre that you have guessed what he intends to do tonight?’
‘I think John will be halfway to Lincoln by now,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He was so terrified by his discussion with me that he will snatch the advantage he has been given and run away.’
‘I am not so sure,’ said Michael. ‘He will have warned Leycestre, and there will be no theft from Prior Alan or anyone else.’ He gave a sudden chuckle and changed the subject. ‘De Lisle is a popular man at the moment. He took all that treasure to his house and displayed it for the merchants to identify and collect. It had all been returned to its owners in less than an hour.’
‘Was everyone’s property there?’
‘Almost. Agnes Fitzpayne had listed various items that were not recovered.’
‘I told you,’ said Bartholomew triumphantly. ‘There was nothing for her to claim, because nothing was stolen from her. And the fact that she was the only “victim” whose property did not reappear affirms it.’
‘She was not the only one, though,’ said Michael. ‘A certain number of coins also remain missing, although all the jewellery was accounted for.’
‘You should know where they went,’ said Bartholomew, thinking that de Lisle would be very pleased with his unexpected windfall. No one would accuse him of keeping a small profit for himself when he had been to such pains to return the bulk of it to its rightful owners.
‘I have had enough of the rebels and their petty crimes,’ said Michael, obviously not wanting to hear that de Lisle was less than honest. ‘But while you were busy pulling Tysilia from under pigs by her legs, I was also busy. I happen to know that Symon the librarian is currently lurking in his favourite hiding place – the latrines. He thinks he will avoid an awkward interrogation from me regarding the state of his back.’
‘Then we should talk to him immediately,’ said Bartholomew, taking the monk’s sleeve and tugging it to make him finish his meal and leave. ‘He is an elusive fellow, and if you have him pinned down, we should take the opportunity to speak to him before he disappears again.’