‘No!’ said Michael firmly. ‘No medicine while I am eating, please. You can discuss pastes and powders in the infirmary when you are alone. Meanwhile, we were talking about Mackerell.’
‘That is not much of an improvement,’ said Robert laconically.
‘Mackerell is always wandering off alone,’ offered Sub-prior Thomas. ‘He knows the Fens better than he does the city streets, and he often takes himself away. I doubt his disappearance is significant – and it will certainly have nothing to do with William’s absence.’
‘I thought I saw Mackerell this morning,’ said Symon, frowning thoughtfully, as he speared a lump of bread with military precision. ‘I am certain it was his cod-like features and scaly clothes that I spotted near the castle.’
‘What were you doing all the way down there?’ demanded Robert immediately. ‘Hiding from someone who wanted to use the library?’
‘Checking the locks on the tithe barn,’ snapped Symon huffily. ‘I want wheat for bread this winter, even if you do not care whether the peasants steal it all because we are lax with our security.’
‘I care,’ said Thomas vehemently, helping himself to a loaf.
‘Are you sure it was Mackerell you saw?’ asked Michael of Symon. ‘It would be good to know he is alive.’
Symon shook his head apologetically. ‘Not really. In fact, I am almost certainly mistaken. Why would an eel fisherman be inside our grounds at all? He would have no business here.’
‘Mackerell is a miserable soul,’ said Thomas irrelevantly, stabbing half a cheese and hauling it across the table towards him. ‘I am always under the impression that he finds the presence of his fellow men as taxing as we find his.’
‘I do not like him, either,’ agreed Robert, ever ready to say something unpleasant. ‘He charges too much for his eels, when most of them are all bone and no meat.’
‘Like me,’ said Michael, piling his trencher high with nuts. ‘I have become little more than skin and bone since I have been in Cambridge.’
‘True,’ agreed Thomas, assessing Michael’s girth with an experienced eye. Next to his massive form, Michael appeared almost sylph-like. ‘I pray to God that I will never be dispatched to such a place, if it means near-starvation.’
‘You can rest assured that will never happen,’ said Robert maliciously. ‘I hear that the University likes its scholars able to read, and since you are all but illiterate, it would have no cause to extend any invitations to you.’
‘I am not illiterate,’ sighed Thomas, in a weary tone that indicated this argument was not a new one. ‘I just find small words difficult to make out. It is a fault with the eyes, not the mind. Is that not so, Father Prior?’
‘Have you discovered who killed these men yet, Michael?’ asked Alan, apparently preferring to change the subject than to lie. ‘You have had four days now, and I would prefer this murderer to be under lock and key, not free in our city.’
‘Me too,’ said Michael bitterly. ‘But everyone I approach for information lies to me. I cannot catch a killer when I cannot sort out what is fact and what is fiction.’
‘Who has been lying to you?’ asked Alan in surprise. ‘No one should have cause to tell you untruths. We all want this killer caught.’
‘I am not so sure,’ said Michael, eyeing his brethren meaningfully. ‘Three detested men have been slain, and virtually everyone in Ely seems to have a motive for wanting them dead. Thus, there is little incentive for people to want to help me: they are all hoping that this killer will strike again, and rid them of someone else they do not like.’
‘That is not a nice thing to say,’ admonished Henry. ‘You make it sound as though the whole city is looking forward to the next person’s death.’
‘I imagine a few of them will be fearing for their own safety,’ said Robert gleefully. ‘There are a number of people who are good candidates, if the killer is selecting his victims on the basis of their unpopularity. There is that seditious Leycestre and his two lazy nephews; there is that rude Agnes Fitzpayne; and there is that nasty Father John, whose Latin alone is good cause for his murder.’
‘There will be another death,’ warned Michael. ‘And since no one seems prepared to help me, there is little I can do to prevent it, or to save my poor Bishop from these slanderous accusations.’
‘We have helped you all we can, Brother,’ began Henry, offended.
‘Yes,’ said Michael, turning to smile at him. ‘You have been both helpful and encouraging. But not everyone is as public spirited. Sub-prior Thomas is one such example.’
‘Me?’ asked Thomas, surprised to be singled out for such an accusation. ‘I have not been obstructive. Indeed, I have taken some pains not to come anywhere near you.’
‘I can well imagine why,’ said Michael. ‘There is clearly a great deal that you do not want me to know.’
‘Such as what?’ demanded Thomas, peevishness creeping into his voice. Michael’s accusations were not disturbing enough to put him off his food, however; his jaws did not stop working for an instant.
‘Such as what that person in the orchard gave you last night,’ snapped Michael. ‘And do not tell me false stories about alms for the poor. You carried no bread with you, and you were the recipient – not the giver – of a small white package.’
Thomas cast an agitated glance at the Prior. ‘I do not see that it is Brother Michael’s business to interrogate me,’ he began.
‘No, it is not,’ agreed Alan, regarding his sub-prior uneasily. ‘But these are unusual times, and something peculiar is happening. The Bishop is obliged to remain in Ely until this murder charge is resolved, and I would just as soon he resumed his travels. Therefore, you will answer Michael’s questions, so that we can be done with this business and be back to normal.’
‘But my actions have nothing to do with the Bishop’s affairs,’ protested Thomas. His face was now white, and his breakfast forgotten. ‘You should ask others, not me.’
‘Such as whom?’ demanded Michael.
Thomas licked nervous lips, aware that the refectory was silent and that everyone was listening to what he had to say. ‘I did not mean … I did not–’
‘No lies,’ snapped Michael impatiently. ‘What did you mean when you said we should ask others? What others? What do you know that you have not told me?’
Thomas was growing increasingly flummoxed, and his jowls were trembling and twitching in agitation. He ran a thick finger around the neckline of his habit, as if it were suddenly too tight. Bartholomew exchanged a quick glance of concern with Henry, aware that a grossly fat man like Thomas was the kind of person who might have a seizure if stressed too severely. ‘It was a slip of the tongue. I will make no accusations against my fellow brethren–’
‘They would doubtless make accusations against you,’ warned Michael, giving the dark-faced Robert a sour glance. ‘And I will learn what I want to know sooner or later anyway – with or without your help. But it will be quicker and easier if you are honest with me now.’
‘I have instructed you to be of assistance to Michael,’ said Alan, fixing his stern gaze on the hapless sub-prior. ‘You will answer his questions. Who should he ask for information about this matter?’
‘I do not know for certain,’ said Thomas in a voice that was suddenly frail and breathless. He pulled at his habit again and swallowed hard, as though his throat was bothering him. ‘I am basing what I say on speculation and rumour, but William has been regularly missing his offices for the past two weeks or so.’
‘Two weeks ago,’ mused Michael. ‘That is about the time when the first murder took place.’
Thomas gave a sickly, ingratiating smile. ‘That is the connection I made, too. He has also been drawing heavily on priory funds. In fact, he has taken more in the last eighteen days than he has spent in the rest of the year put together.’
‘Has he really?’ asked Robert with unconcealed glee. ‘He has been dogging my every move recently, trying to assemble “proof” that I have not been distributing our alms to the poor. Now we learn that the hypocrite has been stealing priory money for himself!’