‘De Lisle had nothing to do with those unfortunate incidents,’ said Brownsley. It was impossible to read his expression. ‘If you do not believe me, then ask him.’
Langelee roared with laughter. ‘But I cannot find it in my heart to judge de Lisle too harshly. After all, he is only doing what other barons do, and it is not easy to make ends meet when you have a large retinue to fund. It would not be right to let loyal servants perish from want, would it?’
‘It would not,’ agreed Osbern jovially. ‘This cask is empty, Brother. Do you have another?’
‘No,’ said Michael shortly. ‘You will have to have ale instead.’
‘Why are you here, Brownsley?’ asked Langelee conversationally. ‘You have not told us yet.’
‘We have been in London, trying to protect the Bishop’s good name against liars,’ replied Brownsley. ‘Men like Spynk and Danyell, in fact. Afterwards, we were supposed to travel to Avignon, but there was a change of plan, and we were obliged to come north again first.’
‘What change of plan?’ asked Langelee, intrigued.
Brownsley’s smile was enigmatic. ‘He asked us to bring him some money when we visit him at the papal court. We collected all we could, but life with the Pope is probably expensive, and we decided he might need a bit more than we had with us. So we are on our way to Ely, to beg some from the abbey.’
‘You will have no success there,’ predicted Langelee. ‘They have that big cathedral to maintain, and have only just finished setting a fancy wooden octagon on top of it. I doubt they have money to spare.’
‘No?’ asked Brownsley, and Bartholomew was under the impression that the conversation had been skilfully manoeuvred to this point. ‘Then what about the University? It is in his See, and even a casual glance around shows there is money here.’
‘Michaelhouse is as poor as a church mouse,’ declared Langelee immediately. ‘A bit of cash will come our way when we sell Sewale Cottage, but we shall have to spend it all again when we buy the Refham shops.’
Brownsley and Osbern exchanged a glance. ‘We heard Sewale Cottage was up for sale,’ said Brownsley pleasantly.
‘How?’ asked Bartholomew. He smiled, to make his question sound more friendly – there was no point in deliberately antagonising powerful men. ‘You said you have only just arrived in Cambridge.’
Brownsley grinned back, although there was no warmth in the expression. ‘We must have heard it as we rode here. But Sewale Cottage is a nice house in a good location. I would not sell it, if I were you.’
‘Unfortunately, it is too small to be of any use to us,’ said Langelee. ‘And the Refham property will be much more valuable in the long run. We have no choice but to hawk the place.’
‘De Lisle would rather you kept it,’ said Brownsley softly. ‘He will make it worth your while.’
Langelee’s wine-reddened face creased into a puzzled frown. ‘Are you saying the Bishop wants to buy Sewale Cottage, too? But why? No, do not answer! It is not our business, and I was foolish to ask. Of course we will accept a bid from him. We are up to nineteen marks at the moment.’
‘The Bishop does not want to buy it,’ said Brownsley. ‘He cannot – the King has frozen his assets. However, he wants it to remain in University hands and will be pleased if you accede to his request.’
‘But we need the money for other things,’ objected Langelee. ‘And pleasing him is not one of our priorities, I am afraid. He may still be Bishop, but he is not here, and I doubt he will return.’
‘Oh, yes he will,’ declared Osbern hotly. ‘And when he does, his enemies will be very sorry.’
‘De Lisle has no enemies here,’ said Michael, hastening to smooth ruffled feathers. ‘And I am sure we can come to an arrangement that suits us all. Is that not so, Master?’
But Langelee’s good humour had evaporated. ‘We might. But then again, we might not. I do not take kindly to bullies, and anyone who tries to intimidate me can expect to be intimidated back.’
‘I am glad you came when you did, Matt,’ said Michael, after Bartholomew had mumbled some tale about the monk being needed at St Mary the Great, thus bringing the uncomfortable gathering to an end. ‘I have always found Brownsley and Osbern rough company, and knew it was only a matter of time before they and Langelee fell out. They are too similar in their characters.’
‘Perhaps Spynk and Danyell were telling the truth about the way they were treated by the Bishop’s retinue. I know for a fact that Osbern and Brownsley are guilty of criminal behaviour, because they are the pair who have been searching Sewale Cottage – and probably digging holes in its garden, too.’
Michael gaped at him. ‘Are you sure?’
Bartholomew nodded as he led the way to his own chamber, where Cynric was still poring over his Latin. ‘So Margery had something the Bishop wants, and because they have not found it, Brownsley and Osbern have come to order Michaelhouse not to sell the place.’
‘But what does the Bishop want?’ asked Michael, frustrated. ‘There is nothing left in the house, and I cannot see him being interested in doorknobs and hinges.’
‘It must be because Sewale Cottage is cursed,’ said Cynric helpfully. ‘Margery died in it, see.’
‘People have died in most houses, Cynric,’ said Michael reasonably. ‘And even if you are right, why should that matter to de Lisle?’
‘Margery was a witch, and he probably thinks a bit of her magic will extricate him from his current difficulties,’ explained Cynric. He spoke with absolute conviction. ‘I doubt God will come to his rescue, him being a felon and all, so he intends to secure a different kind of help.’
Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘And how did he find out about Margery’s death when he is in Avignon? News takes weeks to travel those sort of distances.’
Cynric pulled a face that suggested this was an irrelevancy, so he did not deign to address it. Instead, he turned to something that lay on the table next to him. ‘I finished searching her house this morning and I found this. I wanted to give it to you earlier, Brother, but decided to wait until the Bishop’s louts had gone.’
It was a tome. Carefully, Bartholomew opened the ancient pages, and scanned them quickly. ‘The title claims it is the Book of Consecrations, but it is not. I read some of that in Padua last year, and I remember the chapter titles. These are different.’
‘How different?’ asked Michael, bemused.
‘Its sections were ordered around curses – curses using animals, curses using stones, curses using metals, and so on. But this is just a list of cures for chilblains and insect bites. Tulyet probably owns a copy of the real one. If you borrow it and compare the two, you will see I am right.’
‘Where did you find it, Cynric?’ asked Michael.
‘Under a loose stair. I doubt anyone could have seen it in the dark – it was hard enough in daylight.’
Michael rubbed his chin. ‘You may know this is not the real Book of Consecrations, Matt, but that does not mean Margery did. The fact that she kept it so cunningly hidden suggests she thought she had something worth protecting. And I do not think she could read anyway, so how would she have known what it contained?’
‘And this is what Brownsley and Osbern were after?’ asked Bartholomew doubtfully. ‘I do not see the Bishop being interested in remedies for chilblains or a compendium of curses.’
‘He will not want the remedies,’ agreed Cynric. ‘But I imagine he might find the curses useful. Do not forget that he is in exile, while dozens of his enemies tell tales about him to the King.’