‘William did not,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He was not eating his second breakfast when you interrogated Thomas, and would have no idea why Robert should be hunting for him.’
‘No,’ agreed Michael. ‘He would not.’
‘My explanation also supposes that the killer gained access to the vineyards with ease. They are surrounded by formidable walls on three sides and by priory buildings on the other. There are four gates, but all are kept locked and only the Steeple Gate has a guard who will undo it for you.’
‘The culprit broke in, then,’ said Michael. ‘Perhaps the previous night.’
‘Or he has a key. You borrowed one easily enough when you wanted to use it the other day.’
‘Damn!’ muttered Michael softly. ‘There are a number of the wretched things, and every monk here is aware that they are hanging on hooks in the chapter house. This is not a priory that restricts every movement of its members, and we all know that we are permitted to leave the precincts on occasion if necessary – as long as we do not abuse the privilege.’
‘So, a count of the keys will tell us nothing, then?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘What about asking if anyone is aware who borrowed them recently?’
‘That would tell us nothing, either,’ said Michael gloomily. ‘I know for a fact that Henry has had one for years, so that he can go out to hunt for medicinal herbs when he needs them, and there are others who also hoard them for their personal convenience – Robert for example, and Thomas and Symon.’
‘Robert had one? Then perhaps the killer stole it from him,’ suggested Bartholomew.
Michael sighed. ‘If we start asking about keys, we will waste a lot of time and possibly end up accusing someone who is innocent. It is too difficult an avenue of investigation, and it will be too easy for the killer to lie.’
‘I do not understand how the killer took Robert’s body from the vineyard and dumped it in the Quay with no one seeing what he was doing,’ said Bartholomew. ‘It was not dark, and this is a busy city.’
‘That is simple to answer, although I am surprised you need me to point it out. It is market day, and even if you have nothing to sell or to buy, it is the most important day of the week for Ely folk. Everyone gathers in the marketplace to chat and exchange information. It is safe to assume that the killer would be unlikely to meet anyone near the water.’
‘But even so, it is a brave man who risks being seen by a merchant glancing out of his window, or by an apprentice on an errand for his master. This is a lively place, and to expect the Quay to be deserted at that time of the day is unreasonable.’
‘Nevertheless, it is what happened. You examined the body yourself, and you were the one who pointed out the vine leaves. Since the corpse did not walk to the water itself, it must have been taken there.’
‘I suppose it is possible that Robert was killed on the Quay – not in the vineyard – and then his body was rolled into the water,’ said Bartholomew, casting around for plausible solutions.
‘Why would Robert have been at the Quay? He was searching the priory grounds for William, not looking for fish. And anyway, what about the leaves you found on his clothes? They were from vines, and they mean he was in the vineyard.’
‘But they do not mean that he was killed in the vineyard. And suppose he was not searching for William at all? Suppose he was at the Quay for some other reason?’
‘Damn it all! I wish I had not questioned Thomas – then he would not be in the infirmary, and Robert would not be in the cathedral with a slashed neck.’
‘How do you know that? Robert might have gone to his death today regardless of anything you could have done, while I have already told you that Thomas was ripe for a seizure.’
‘God’s blood, Matt! When I agreed to investigate this case, I had no idea it would lead to all this. I am tempted to grab my horse and ride back to Cambridge today, where at least I understand the scholars and their ways.’
‘And what about de Lisle? He will not appreciate being abandoned while a charge of murder hangs over his head.’
‘No, he will not,’ said Michael. ‘But I am at a loss as how to make any progress. There is Thomas, who declined to tell us whom he was meeting or what was passed to him in that white package. There is William, who convinced Tysilia she is his sister and then persuaded her to spy on Blanche for him. Now he has fled.’
‘If he has fled, Brother,’ said Bartholomew grimly. ‘It would not surprise me if he turned up floating in the river at some point, and the missing money was nowhere to be found.’
‘What are you saying? That someone packed away all William’s belongings, and then pretended to be him riding away on a gelding last night?’ asked Michael incredulously.
‘Why not? His flight does not fit the evidence: he was investigating the murders on his own behalf, then, with no explanation, he left without a word to anyone. It is too odd.’
‘You would leave without a word if you thought you were about to be murdered and were running for your life.’
‘But why should he think such a thing? We have no evidence that he was afraid, or that he had discovered any dangerous secret.’
‘Perhaps he fled because he is the murderer, and he felt the net closing around him.’ Michael grimaced. While he did not much care for the bob-haired hosteller, he felt the man had some redeeming qualities, and did not like to think of him as the killer. He would have preferred the loathsome Robert or the gluttonous, selfish Thomas to be the culprit.
‘William as the killer means that he made good his escape last night, then returned today to dispatch Robert,’ said Bartholomew. ‘That does not make sense, even bearing in mind that they were bitter enemies.’
‘Perhaps William has not gone far,’ pressed Michael. ‘You are assuming that he has disappeared from the area, but perhaps he is close by, and intends to continue his deadly work until we can stop him. I have already sent Meadowman and Cynric to ask the people who live on the causeways whether they saw him leave the city.’
‘Good idea. But to continue with our list of people who have demonstrated curious behaviour, we also have Robert, whom Thomas accused of being involved before he had his fit.’
‘But obviously he is not the killer. Meanwhile, in the guesthouse, we have Blanche and her retinue. Tysilia has some strange relationship with William and knows more than she will tell, while you think Lady Blanche was in the Mermaid in the presence of gypsies, although, not surprisingly, she denies it. I do not like that Father John, either, or his association with those rabble rousers.’
‘Not liking someone is no reason to include them on our list of suspicious characters,’ said Bartholomew, smiling.
Michael grinned. ‘But it is satisfying to see them there.’
‘Going back to the priory, there are others we should keep an open mind about: there is Prior Alan, who must hate de Lisle for being appointed to the See he thought was rightfully his. There is Symon, who seems as feckless and shifty a man as I have ever encountered …’
‘You do not like him because he is a dismal librarian,’ observed Michael. ‘But there is that snivelling Julian, too. Yesterday, I caught him filing a key into a viciously sharp point. Lord knows what he was planning to do with it.’
‘Henry says he has an obsession with sharp implements, so we should definitely retain him on our list of suspects.’
‘Could it really be that simple?’ asked Michael. ‘A boy with a deep-rooted desire to do harm and a love of sharp objects?’
‘And then there is Henry,’ said Bartholomew, lowering his voice as he resumed the list. ‘Do not forget that he has access to sharp implements, too – a good many of them confiscated from Julian, I suspect, as well as his blood-letting devices.’