‘Do not bother, Verious,’ sneered Mortimer contemptuously. ‘Michael will do nothing about Sauvage, because all townsmen are dirt to the University.’
‘We are not dirt to Brother Michael,’ declared Isnard stoutly. ‘He would not let us join his choir if we were.’
Verious produced the dagger from about his grimy person. There was no need to study it closely: it was of an ilk with the ones used on the other victims. Michael took it and slipped it in his scrip, much to Verious’s obvious dismay.
‘What makes you think French spies killed Sauvage?’ asked Bartholomew of Verious, although it was Isnard who answered.
‘First, because that dagger is the same as the ones used on their other victims, and we know those blades were French, because the Sheriff said so when he showed them to us. And second, because it is an expensive thing, but the killer left it behind. Only spies can afford that sort of extravagance.’
‘Because they are paid directly by the dolphin,’ elaborated Verious confidently, ‘who is fabulously rich after plundering Winchelsea.’
Bartholomew opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. There was no point when Verious and Isnard had already made up their minds. Michael continued to question them, but when it became clear they had no more to tell, he turned back to the enraged baker.
‘I will see you receive a fair price for your bread, Mortimer. You have my word.’
Mortimer scowled at him. ‘Unfortunately, your word is worthless. Heltisle told us that the new Chancellor wants to rule for himself, so you are now irrelevant. You have dealt justly with us in the past, but a new order has arrived, and you are not part of it.’
Michael’s face went so dark with anger that Bartholomew was alarmed for him.
‘Take a deep breath, Brother,’ he advised hastily. ‘It is not worth–’
‘What is de Wetherset thinking?’ exploded Michael. ‘Not just to antagonise tradesmen when we are on the verge of serious civil unrest, but to undermine my authority when I most need it? Does he want the University burned to the ground?’
‘It was not him – it was Heltisle,’ said Isnard, frightened by the sight of the Senior Proctor trembling with fury. ‘Perhaps de Wetherset knows nothing about it.’
Michael closed his eyes and took the recommended deep breath, so that when he next spoke, his voice was calmer.
‘It will not matter to Heltisle if we are attacked, because his College is surrounded by high walls, but what about the hostels? They have no such means to defend themselves.’
‘He does not care about those,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He has always been an elitist.’
Michael stormed towards St Mary the Great, aiming to have strong words with Heltisle, but before he and Bartholomew could reach it, they saw him walking along the High Street with de Wetherset and Aynton. The triumvirate had been to visit the Mayor, and carried documents bearing his seal. Two dozen beadles – the real ones, not the Horde – formed a protective phalanx around them, which was a necessary precaution as they were attracting a lot of hostile attention.
‘Why are these men guarding you?’ demanded Michael between gritted teeth. ‘They are supposed to be patrolling the streets to prevent brawls.’
Heltisle’s eyes narrowed at the disrespectful tone, although de Wetherset had the grace to look sheepish. Meanwhile, Aynton beamed at everyone who glanced in his direction, clearly under the illusion that a friendly smile was all that was needed to heal the rifts that he and his two cronies were opening.
‘Would you have us lynched by a mob?’ asked Heltisle archly. ‘An assault on us is an assault on the University, so it is imperative that we do not allow it to happen.’
‘You would not need protection if you had an ounce of sense,’ snarled Michael. ‘I negotiated fair trade agreements with the town, and you are fools to meddle with them.’
‘They were skewed in the town’s favour,’ argued de Wetherset, although his voice lacked conviction, as if he already doubted the wisdom of what he had done. ‘And I do have the authority to broker new ones. It says so in the statutes.’
‘It does,’ put in Aynton timidly. ‘But I am not sure that we went about it in the most diplomatic manner, Chancellor. Peace is–’
‘To hell with peace,’ growled Heltisle. ‘The town attacked us at the butts and killed four of our most promising scholars. Such behaviour cannot be tolerated, and harsher trade deals are its reward.’
‘The contracts you signed were to our detriment, Brother,’ said de Wetherset, simultaneously uncomfortable and defensive. ‘So we felt obliged to offer the town a choice: sell at more attractive prices, or have us buy supplies in Ely.’
Michael regarded him furiously. ‘Yes, I agreed to higher premiums, but it bought us much goodwill, which will save us a fortune in the long run, as you should know from the last time you were Chancellor. But did you have to start all this nonsense now, when relations are so strained?’
‘Relations are always strained,’ said de Wetherset, not unreasonably. ‘Ergo, there will never be a good time to initiate reform.’
‘And if you cannot quell the resulting rumpus, you should resign,’ finished Heltisle, his face a mask of triumph. ‘Theophilis has already offered to take your place.’
‘It is tempting,’ said Michael icily, ‘just for the pleasure of watching you destroyed. But I love the University too much to see it harmed, so I shall stay at my post. However, you have created an ugly mood, so I suggest you go home and stay there. Then my beadles can return to their real duties.’
‘No, they will continue to guard us,’ countered Heltisle challengingly. ‘Oh, and Meadowman is under arrest, by the way. He refused to obey my orders, so I had to make an example of him. The others fell into line when they saw which way the wind was blowing.’
Bartholomew glanced at the beadles who guarded the triumvirate. None were happy with the situation in which they found themselves, and he was sure that if Michael asked, they would abandon the triumvirate and follow him in a heartbeat. But the monk had too much affection for his men to put them in such an invidious position.
‘I understand you have continued to investigate the murders,’ said de Wetherset, turning to another matter, ‘even though we told you to leave them to Aynton.’ He raised a hand when Michael opened his mouth to reply. ‘I do not aim to scold you, Brother, but to ask if you have made any progress.’
‘Because I have not,’ said Aynton ruefully. ‘I tried, but then I gave up, lest I inadvertently made matters worse.’
‘You are wise, Commissary,’ said Michael tightly. ‘If only others had the intelligence to follow your example.’ He did not look at Heltisle. ‘And to answer your question, Chancellor, we shall have answers after we have been to St Radegund’s.’
‘St Radegund’s?’ echoed de Wetherset, puzzled. ‘Why there?’
‘Abbess Isabel was in the vicinity when Orwel was brained, and can identify the culprit,’ replied Michael with rather more confidence than was warranted, especially given that Isabel might be the killer herself.
‘Orwel?’ asked Heltisle. ‘Who is he?’
‘A man who had information about Wyse’s murder,’ said Michael, continuing to address de Wetherset. ‘Unfortunately, he was killed before he could share it.’
‘I have never liked the Benedictines,’ said Heltisle with a moue of distaste. ‘Perhaps this abbess dispatched Paris and the others. I would not put such wickedness past a member of that unsavoury Order.’
‘Then you have to admire her courage,’ mused Aynton. ‘The plagiarist was weak and old, but her other victims cannot have been easy meat.’