Symon glanced around surreptitiously, apparently considering possible escape routes. His eyes lingered on the dark cemetery, but Bartholomew and Henry climbed from among the undergrowth and blocked his path, and Meadowman and the imposing presence of Michael guarded the only other possible way out. The librarian’s shoulders sagged in defeat.
‘They made me do it,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I did not want to.’
‘Yes, we made him,’ said Leycestre harshly. ‘We promised him a share of any treasure he helped us steal, and so placed him under indescribable pressure as he was forced to choose between loyalty to his priory and his natural greed. As you can see, greed won the day.’
‘It was not like that,’ said Symon unsteadily. ‘I would have given my share back to the priory.’
‘Then why steal it at all?’ asked Alan, as unconvinced by Symon’s desperate lies as everyone else who heard them.
‘Because of you,’ said Symon, taking a step closer to Alan and still smiling ingratiatingly. ‘The Bishop is unpopular in the town, and men like him will be the first to go when the rebellion gets under way. Then you will be elected Bishop, and we will all be very much happier.’
‘And I suppose you imagine you will be elected Prior in my place,’ said Alan coolly. ‘You will not. I would never appoint a man who spends half of his time devising ways to shirk his duties and the other half putting his ideas into practice. I had no idea you had allowed our precious library to sink to such an appalling state. What will our visitors think when they see it?’
‘They do not think anything,’ said Henry softly. ‘They are seldom permitted past its portals – and now you know why.’
‘And what do you think will happen to a cathedral-priory if this rebellion ever gains momentum?’ asked Michael of Symon in disgust. ‘It will not only be landowners like de Lisle who will suffer, but our monastery, too. You would never have been appointed Prior, because there would be no priory for you to rule.’
‘We have no grudge against the Benedictines,’ began Leycestre uneasily, trying to salvage what he could from the mess he had created.
Michael rounded on him. ‘Do you not? That is not what you told me the first day I arrived in this miserable city, and I suggest that you have not been entirely honest with Symon about who will be safe and who will be attacked.’
‘You promised me that the priory would not be harmed,’ said Symon, taking a menacing step towards Leycestre, when the expression on the rebel’s face proved that Michael was right. ‘You promised that I would be Prior, and that Alan would be deposed because he would be held responsible for losing the treasure.’
‘That sounds more like the truth,’ said Alan bitterly. ‘You did not intend to rid yourself of me by making me Bishop. You intended to have me disgraced.’
Symon glared at him. ‘This is your fault.’
‘Mine?’ asked Alan, startled. ‘Why?’
‘I came to confess my role in this two days ago, and to warn you. But you were too busy dealing with your precious cathedral to have time for me. In fact, no one was available to hear my confession, so I decided to continue after all.’
‘I was available,’ said Henry. ‘My doors are never closed to a monk in need, as you know.’
‘And you cannot blame Prior Alan for your crime, just because he was out when you happened to want him,’ Michael pointed out. ‘You could have followed your own conscience with this: you do not need a confessor to tell you what is right and what is wrong.’
‘This is a sorry mess,’ said Henry, looking in disgust at the faces of the men who stood in a circle around the library door. ‘I have never seen such treachery and lies. I am ashamed of and disappointed with you all.’
‘It is a sorry mess,’ agreed Michael. He looked at Alan. ‘What do you want us to do, Father? Your librarian is a thief and a conspirator, while these others are plotting to rise up against the King himself.’
‘Put them in the prison,’ said Alan tiredly. ‘I shall give the matter some thought and decide tomorrow what shall be done with them. I knew Leycestre and his kinsmen held rebellious beliefs, but I did not know they ran to burglary and the despoiling of monasteries, and I certainly did not imagine that one of my monks would stoop to consorting with them.’
‘And arranging for others to be blamed,’ said Bartholomew, thinking about Leycestre’s agreement with Guido. ‘Leycestre even apologised for fighting with the gypsies in the Heyrow, because he realised he needed them to remain in Ely long enough to play their part in his plot.’
Leycestre said nothing, knowing that any excuse would not be believed, and might even incriminate him further. His nephew was less sanguine about the accusations that were being levied.
‘Yes, we did intend to have the gypsies blamed,’ he declared defiantly. ‘But their fate is irrelevant in the scheme of things, and God is on our side. Father John said so.’
‘Did he now?’ asked Michael coolly. ‘And I suppose John allowed you to keep your stolen goods in the cathedral, too, in a place where no one would think to look?’
‘It was John who convinced me to take up the battle against oppression,’ said Leycestre wearily. ‘He is an inspiration to us all.’
‘John?’ asked Bartholomew, startled. ‘But he ran away at the first sign of trouble, and claimed he would only choose which side to support once the outcome was already decided.’
‘John would never say that,’ said Leycestre. ‘He said God will help us when we finally lift the yoke from the shoulders of the people.’
‘You will not be lifting any yokes,’ said Michael firmly. ‘Take them away, Cynric. I am weary of all this treasonous talk.’
When Cynric and Meadowman had gone, prodding their prisoners forward with the tips of their swords, Henry looked at Alan with sombre eyes. Bartholomew knew how the infirmarian felt. It was not pleasant to know that a monk had been responsible for attempting to strip the priory of its sacred vessels and crosses, and it was worse to think that the man had also conspired to have Alan deposed. While Alan might not be an ideal Prior, and often put his architectural projects above his other responsibilities, he had dedicated most of his life to the Church, and he deserved better than Symon.
‘There is far too much evil in this world,’ Henry sighed. ‘Everywhere I turn it is staring me in the face. It is bad enough in the town, but I thought matters would be better here, in the sacred confines of a priory.’
‘There will be sin where there are people,’ said Alan pragmatically. ‘And it will always be so.’
‘I thought things would change after the Death,’ Henry went on. ‘The city saw God’s displeasure when He sent a terrible pestilence, and I heard many confessions during those black times. But as soon as the disease loosened its hold, people went back to their old ways.’
‘As I said,’ replied Alan wearily. ‘It will always be so. But this is no place to be. Come to my solar for a cup of wine, and we shall pray for the souls of these misguided people.’
Bartholomew declined, not wanting to talk any more about it, while Henry claimed that his patients needed him in the infirmary. Michael went, however, never one to refuse the offer of a goblet of wine. Since one of Leycestre’s nephews had escaped with a decent portion of the monastic silver, Bartholomew decided to track him down before it was lost for good. He met Cynric and Meadowman near the prison. Meadowman was carrying a heavy sack.
‘That looks like the treasure that went missing,’ said Bartholomew, realising that he had been too slow and that the servants had already acted.
Cynric nodded. ‘The other lad made off with it. He is in a cell, and this sack is about to be returned to the Prior.’
Bartholomew was amazed. ‘Not much passes you, does it! The Prior owes you a casket of wine for your work tonight.’
Cynric grinned. ‘Then just make sure he pays up. We have locked Symon in one cell, and Leycestre and his boys in the other. They were blaming each other for their predicament, and I did not want them to murder each other during the night.’