Bartholomew listed them. ‘Nicholas, Lichet, Bonde, Albon, Marishal and the twins. Oh, and Badew and Harweden. They put on a fine display of stunned disbelief when we told them about Roos’s perfidy, but they held high rank in the University for years. That alone will make them skilled dissemblers.’
‘Thank you, Matt,’ said Michael drily. ‘Do you want to include me as well?’
‘I will follow Albon again,’ said Langelee, ‘lest he happens to stumble across something vital. I will also see about acquiring a few benefactors.’
‘Then go now,’ instructed Michael. ‘We will join you at the castle as soon as I have attended my private devotions in the priory chapel.’
‘If you do that, it will draw attention to the fact that you slept through prime,’ warned Langelee. ‘Use the parish church instead. But no accusing Nicholas of murder. He is not the culprit, Brother – it will be Lichet or Bonde, you mark my words.’
Bartholomew was more than happy to wait in the church while Michael completed his religious duties, as it provided another opportunity for him to admire the fan vaulting. A section of scaffolding had been removed shortly after dawn, revealing a segment of ceiling that had been invisible during Roos’s funeral the previous day.
‘The Queen will be impressed,’ he said, still gazing up in awe when the monk came to collect him a short while later. ‘This place is truly remarkable.’
‘Are you sure it is safe?’ Michael poked a pile of dust with his toe. ‘I am never comfortable with innovation. It nearly always needs refinement, so it is better to wait until a thing is tried and tested before having it installed yourself.’
‘Well, the geometric principles are sound. You can see from here that the load of the ceiling is spread between the–’
‘You can lecture me on principles all you like, Matt,’ interrupted Michael. ‘But all I see is a lot of fancy stonework slathered in paint. And pretty does not equal solid.’
‘Perhaps Cambrug will convince you. He is due to arrive soon, and I want to ask–’
Michael cut across him a second time. ‘Here is Nicholas. He looks unnaturally spry, given that he drank twice as much as you and me combined last night. He must be a sot, used to such debauched occasions.’
‘Have you come to call on our anchoress?’ asked the vicar pleasantly. ‘She will be pleased. The sad events at the castle mean she was neglected yesterday, and she likes attention.’
‘She likes it more than she should,’ said Michael admonishingly. ‘She is supposed to spend her time in prayer, not enjoying the company of visitors. But we came to see you, as it happens.’
‘I hope it is not to accuse me of stealing Langelee’s letter-opener,’ said Nicholas coolly. ‘It is a magnificent weapon, but I am no thief. He must have dropped it somewhere.’
‘No, we want to ask you about Roos and Margery,’ said Bartholomew. ‘It seems that–’
‘I did not kill them,’ said Nicholas, so quickly that it sounded furtive.
‘We are not accusing you of it,’ lied Michael. ‘Although we can eliminate you from our enquiries for certain if you tell us where you were between nocturns and dawn yesterday.’
Nicholas gave him a look that was none too friendly. ‘In the friary, with Langelee and my brethren. Ask them.’
‘I did – last night. But the celebrations finished at nocturns, when John ordered everyone to go and pray. Most did, while Langelee helped Heselbech to the castle. None mentioned being with you, however. They claim they were too addled to notice. In other words, the vows of loyalty you have all sworn prevented them from telling the truth – that you were nowhere to be seen.’
Nicholas made a show of having a sudden attack of memory. ‘Hah! I recall it all now. I left just after Heselbech and Langelee. I was close enough to see them enter the castle, and I heard the chapel bell chime. Then I hurried here to say my own prayers. Ask Anne – she will tell you.’
‘It is true – he did,’ came the inevitable voice from the squint. It made Bartholomew wonder if the anchoress ever bothered with her devotions, and instead spent her whole life eavesdropping on conversations not intended for her ears.
He walked to the anchorhold, where he saw the screen pulled to one side, revealing a very comfortable bed. A dent in the pillow and rumpled covers suggested she had only just risen, which prompted him to ask himself if she spent every night fast asleep – including the one when she claimed to have seen Nicholas recite nocturns.
The anchoress herself was neat and trim in a fresh blue kirtle, while on her feet were soft calfskin slippers. She had already moved to her other window, where petitioners were waiting to regale her with the latest news.
‘Katrina de Haliwell requisitioned another three pounds of almonds last night,’ Adam the baker was informing her. ‘And that was after she scoffed two bowls of stew in the hall. She claims the nuts are for the paroquets, but I think she eats them herself.’
Uninterested in castle gossip, Bartholomew returned to Michael and Nicholas.
‘The first time I met Roos was three days ago, when he came here with you,’ the vicar was saying. ‘If he visited Clare before, I never saw him – either in disguise or as himself. But speaking of unpredictable old men, have you seen Jan the hermit? He seems to have vanished.’
‘Yes – just like Bonde,’ said Michael. ‘If you ask me, it is suspicious, and I am inclined to wonder if one is the rogue who killed Roos and Margery.’
‘It is certainly possible of Bonde,’ said Nicholas. ‘He has always been vicious. However, Jan has never shown any inclination to violence, and he is a holy man. I seriously doubt he has done anything untoward.’
‘Even if he is innocent,’ said Michael, ‘we would still like to ask what he saw as he strolled around the castle in the dark.’
‘Perhaps he is not so much missing as gone shopping,’ suggested Bartholomew. ‘Again.’
But Nicholas shook his head. ‘He only does that on Wednesdays.’
‘Then maybe he has decamped to a quieter town,’ said Michael. ‘Communing with God must be very difficult in Clare, with murders and mayhem every few days.’
‘You make us sound like Cambridge,’ said Nicholas coolly. ‘Which I am told is the most dangerous town in the country.’
‘No, you confuse us with Oxford,’ Michael informed him earnestly. ‘However, even that vile city has nothing on Clare with its seven suspicious deaths. You must be concerned, because the Queen will not come as long as there is a killer on the loose.’
‘She will not be deterred by the kind of worm who stabs women and old men in dark cisterns,’ averred Nicholas. ‘But if there is nothing else, Brother, I must be off. There is still a lot to do before the ceremony, and time is short. Unless you are willing to wield a duster?’
‘I am afraid not,’ said Michael quickly, although Bartholomew would not have minded an excuse to linger in the church, as there were several murals he had not yet inspected.
‘Pity,’ sighed Nicholas. ‘I could have done with the help.’
‘I am not surprised,’ said Michael, looking around disparagingly. ‘You cannot possibly expect to have the rest of the scaffolding down by Tuesday – and the paint on the ceiling will still be wet.’
Nicholas grinned. ‘It might, but who will know? Her Majesty is unlikely to climb up there and stick her fingers in it. But the scaffolding will be down, Brother, and Cambrug has promised to be here first thing on Tuesday to disguise any damage that might have occurred in the process.’
When Michael spotted a wealthy merchant who was said to be generous to good causes, he decided to abandon murder for a few moments and work for Michaelhouse instead. Bartholomew left him to it and went to feast his eyes on the handsome rood screen, experiencing a sharp pang of sorrow when he recognised Margery’s face on a carving of the Blessed Virgin. His musings put him near the anchorhold again, and he glanced inside it to see Anne plying a broom.