‘We know they were kin,’ said Michael. ‘Could it have been some family concern?’
‘Their ties were distant, so no. Of course, it was their relationship that made him the perfect choice to monitor the University on our behalf. It was my idea to recruit him, although the Lady will remember it as her own. I invented the name “Philip de Jevan” as well. It has a nice ring about it, and Roos approved.’
‘To monitor the University?’ echoed Michael, narrowing his eyes. ‘Are you saying that Roos spied on us all, not just Badew?’
Marishal spread his hands. ‘Information is power, and your studium generale takes my Lady’s money, so yes, we expected his reports to be wide-ranging. You do it for the Bishop of Ely, and Master Heltisle of Bene’t College does it for the King, so there are precedents.’
To conceal his consternation that his arrangement with the Bishop should be common knowledge, Michael showed Marishal the onyx rings. ‘Have you seen these before?’
Marishal nodded. ‘They are family heirlooms. Roos gave one to Margery, and she wore it to please him, although she never liked it very much.’
‘We have been told that Roos and Margery were once … close,’ said Michael. ‘Is it true?’
‘What gossips people are!’ exclaimed Marishal angrily. ‘Do they have nothing better to do? And yes, he did once pay suit to her, but then she met me. He was disappointed, but could see she was in love with a younger, brighter man. However, their brief and ancient amour had nothing to do with their deaths. Margery and I have been married for twenty-four years, and his infatuation died a long time ago, along with any resentment he might have harboured.’
‘I am sorry, but I must ask: where were you between nocturns and dawn on Friday?’
‘In here mostly, with my three clerks. We are frantically busy with the royal visit, and Thursday night was particularly hectic, because letters had arrived from Court detailing certain demands that must be met. The Clare Hall men offered to help …’
‘They mentioned working all night,’ said Bartholomew, recalling that they had been far from pleased about it.
‘I heard the bell chime for nocturns, but we had no time to attend. Later, I went to the Oxford Tower, to collect any documents that Donwich and Pulham might have finished, and on the way, I heard Adam the baker race screaming from the cistern … then everything is a blur.’
He could tell them no more, so Bartholomew and Michael left him in peace.
‘He works so hard that he has missed the most important thing in his life,’ said Bartholomew soberly. ‘Time with his beloved wife. And now she is gone, so he will never have it. Therein lies a lesson for us all.’
Which meant, he thought, that he should marry Matilde as soon as he could. Marishal would spend the rest of his life lamenting the choices he had made, so Bartholomew should make sure he did not do the same. Or would he then regret abandoning the teaching he loved so much?
‘He was too busy to notice what she was doing, as well,’ mused Michael. ‘Perhaps a constantly absent husband made her lonely, but her old flame Roos was there to step into the breach.’
‘Regardless, Marishal did not kill them, not if he has three clerks to provide his alibi.’
‘Clerks who work for him, and who will say anything to keep his favour. And he did not mention taking them with him when he went to collect documents from the Oxford Tower. However, remember that we were also told how Thomas was quickly on the scene once the alarm was raised. Perhaps it was he who disapproved of his mother cavorting with another man.’
‘I suppose we can try speaking to him again,’ said Bartholomew without enthusiasm. ‘Although I suspect it will be a waste of time.’
The twins were near the chapel, laughing helplessly, and it was obvious to anyone watching that yet another prank was in the offing, suggesting that they had learned nothing from the near-incineration of Adam. That day, Ella had donned a plain blue kirtle that matched her eyes, while Thomas wore shoes with points so long that they were fastened to his knees with ribbons.
‘You will trip,’ warned Bartholomew, then wished he had kept his thoughts to himself, as it would be rather satisfying to see the odious young man fall flat on his face.
‘Not me,’ declared Thomas confidently, ‘although Nuport will take a tumble when he orders the cobbler to make him footwear to match mine – which he will, because he is a stupid oaf, who copies everything I do, even when it is obviously a joke.’
‘I thought you were friends,’ said Bartholomew, bemused by his malice.
‘Companions,’ corrected Thomas shortly. ‘It is not the same.’
‘Even so, you would be wise not to alienate him. You might need him in France.’
‘Need him?’ scoffed Thomas. ‘I would sooner trust a gnat, which would have a good deal more sense and be more likeable into the bargain. Besides, what do you know of France and war?’
‘More than you ever will – he fought in the Battle of Poitiers,’ retorted Michael, and seeing this failed to impress, added, ‘The Prince of Wales himself praised his valour.’
The last part was pure fabrication, but Thomas regarded Bartholomew with new interest. ‘Then perhaps you should join us when we leave. A physician might come in useful.’
‘You are not going anywhere as long as your mother’s killer is at large,’ Michael pointed out. ‘Albon has sworn not to leave Clare until the culprit is caught.’
‘Yes,’ acknowledged Thomas with a grimace. ‘Which was reckless, because not every crime has a solution, and he might be here for ever.’
Which would suit Albon perfectly, thought Bartholomew wryly.
At that moment, a cluster of kitchen maids walked past, and one darted forward to press something into Thomas’s hand. It was a cake, warm from the oven. He accepted it with a gracious bow that made her blush prettily before scampering away to rejoin her fellows. Recalling what Katrina had said about the squires’ morals, Bartholomew wondered how long it would be before she was used and tossed aside with a broken heart.
‘So what other questions do you have?’ asked Thomas, tearing his eyes away from the jauntily swaying hips. ‘To ask yet again where we were on the night of our mother’s murder? Very welclass="underline" we were in Ella’s room playing board games.’
‘But you arrived very quickly after Adam raised the alarm,’ said Bartholomew.
‘Yes, because we live close to the Cistern Tower. I was still dressed, so all I had to do was run down one flight of stairs and trot across the bailey.’
‘And Adam’s screeches were not very loud at first,’ put in Ella. ‘He began with a few whimpers, which we heard because my window was open. Thomas jumped up at once to see what was wrong, so he had a head start when Adam really began to howl.’
‘What did you do?’ Bartholomew asked her.
‘Unlike Thomas, I was not dressed. By the time I was, he and the others had been down into the cistern, found our mother and Roos, and climbed back up to the bailey again.’
Michael nodded to the pink pearls around Ella’s neck. ‘Those belonged to Margery. Could you not have waited until after her funeral before raiding her jewellery box?’
Ella regarded him steadily. ‘She told me I could have them when she died.’
‘Did she? Why? The pair of you were not close, by your own admission.’
‘So what? I am still her daughter – her only daughter. But if I am a thief, then so are you. I know you stole the onyx ring from her corpse, because I watched you show it to the Lady.’ She held out her hand. ‘And I want it back.’
‘Your father has it,’ replied Michael, unmoved by the accusation. ‘Along with the matching one owned by Roos. Ask him for them.’