‘I understand you have instigated a special market, for the poor,’ said Michael pleasantly, when no one else said anything. ‘What a charming notion. December is cold and gloomy, and it is heart-warming to hear of merchants being generous in such a cheerless season.’
‘Thank you,’ said Miller, revealing his four fangs in a smile. His eyes remained cold. ‘I had to do something, because people were frightened of me, and it was becoming difficult to get anything done.’
‘Fear has its advantages,’ said Langar in a sibilant hiss that was infinitely more sinister than his friend’s gravely tones. ‘It means people are willing to do whatever we ask. However, it also means that sometimes they are so nervous, they make mistakes. And that is a nuisance. I suggested the Market as a good way to alleviate the problem.’
‘It is working,’ said Chapman. ‘The unemployed weavers love us now. Unfortunately our largess has had unforeseen consequences: other folk have flocked to the city to take advantage of our generosity, and it is proving difficult to exclude villains.’
‘I am sure it is,’ murmured Michael, thinking that Chapman was probably in a good position to recognise them, since he was so clearly one himself. It occurred to him to ask how he had come by the Hugh Chalice, but decided Chapman was more likely to be persuaded to tell the truth when his friends were not looming protectively around him. ‘Why are people so afraid of you?’
‘Because those who displease me have accidents,’ replied Miller darkly.
‘And he is very easily displeased,’ added Lora in a voice that was even deeper than Miller’s.
‘If you take our meaning,’ said Chapman, fingering his dagger.
‘But I did not come here to make threats,’ said Miller. Langar stared at his shoes and the physician was under the impression that he was trying not to laugh at his friends’ crude tactics. ‘I came to ask if you know who murdered Aylmer. He was my friend, and I was vexed when I heard he had been stabbed. I want the culprit.’
‘I have not identified the killer,’ replied Michael. ‘But then I have barely started my investigation.’
‘You sound confident, though,’ said Langar thoughtfully. ‘Are you?’
Michael shrugged. ‘I shall do my best.’
Miller spat again, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘When you find the rogue, I shall expect you to tell me his name immediately. Before you tell the bishop.’
‘Why would I do that?’ asked Michael, startled.
Miller sighed in a way that suggested he thought the monk was stupid. ‘Because if the culprit is a clerk – and Aylmer had plenty of enemies in holy orders – the rogue will claim benefit of clergy. I do not want to traipse to some remote monastery to stick my dagger in his gizzard. I want to do it here.’
Michael raised his eyebrows in astonishment. ‘You want me to confide in you, so you can murder him if he is a priest? And you are asking me to do this in a cathedral? A sacred House of God?’
‘Yes,’ said Miller, bemused in his turn. ‘What part do you not understand?’
‘Nothing,’ said Michael, defeated. ‘I shall bear your request in mind.’
‘Thank you,’ said Miller. ‘I appreciate your co-operation and will do something nice for you in return. I learned from Sheriff Lungspee that a favour deserves a favour, and it is a lesson that has served me well. Or would you prefer money? It is your choice.’
‘Neither,’ said Michael, affronted. ‘Canons-elect do not accept bribes.’
Miller was as offended by the response as Michael was by the offer. ‘No canon – elect or otherwise – has refused them in the past, and I do not like my generosity rejected.’
‘We shall give you time to reconsider,’ said Langar, keen to avoid a confrontation that would serve no purpose. ‘And while you investigate Aylmer’s death, I shall look into Nicholas Herl’s. Both were members of the Commonalty, and we are determined to know what happened to them.’
‘His wife told us what you found when you inspected Herl’s body,’ said Miller to Bartholomew. ‘We are grateful for your help. Are you fastidious, like the monk, or will you accept a reward?’
Bartholomew heartily wished he had declined Sabina’s request. ‘There is no clear evidence of foul play,’ he said, avoiding the question. ‘Herl’s death may have been an accident.’
‘I concluded the same, in the light of your findings,’ said Langar. He gave a humourless smile at Bartholomew’s surprise. ‘Your monk is not the only one with the wits to unravel mysteries.’
Chapman grinned at the scholars. ‘Langar was a law-clerk, and knows many cunning tricks. It was his cleverness that made us what we are today – combined with Miller’s talents, of course.’
Bartholomew suddenly became aware that Langar was studying him rather intently. ‘You look familiar,’ said the lawyer. ‘I know you hail from Cambridge, but have you been there long? John Suttone told us his cousin was a fairly recent arrival, and I know from Tetford that Brother Michael has only been there a decade. But what about you?’
‘He and I became Fellows at almost the same time,’ said Michael, before Bartholomew could reply for himself. ‘He studied at Oxford first, then Paris.’
Langar was too clever to be misled, and regarded the physician thoughtfully. ‘No, I never forget a face, and you were in Cambridge when ten good people were accused of wicked crimes by a rogue called Shirlok. I was a clerk at the time, employed to keep records for the Justice. But Miller, Aylmer, Lora, Chapman and dear Nicholas suffered from Shirlok’s mean tongue.’
‘You forgot to mention Sabina,’ said Chapman, while Miller’s face creased into a bleak scowl. Bartholomew saw Tetford had been right to warn them against discussing the triaclass="underline" it was still a sore point with the man. ‘Shirlok tried to indict her, too.’
‘I did not forget,’ said Langar coldly. ‘I just choose not to utter her name. Hateful woman!’
‘Shirlok named my poor brother, Simon, too – God rest his sainted soul,’ said Miller angrily. ‘And three others, also now dead. It was a wicked business, but right prevailed, and we were released. Thank God for English justice.’
‘Amen,’ said Bartholomew, drawing on his recent experience with the Gilbertines and ignoring the startled look Michael shot him. He intended to follow Tetford’s advice and stay well away from discussing the case with Miller, especially given his own suspicions about the ‘English justice’ that had been meted out that day.
Langar continued to stare. ‘It was a painful incident for Master Miller, so I am sure you can be trusted not to mention it to any guildsmen. They know what happened, of course, but there is no point in giving them cause to resurrect the matter.’
‘There is nothing to mention,’ said Michael soothingly. ‘It was a long time ago, and we are more interested in what happened to Aylmer this week. Do you have any idea who might have killed him?’
It was Miller who replied. ‘Dean Bresley might have done it, to prevent him from becoming a Vicar Choral. Aylmer was a bit of a thief, you see, and holy men take against thieves, which is unkind. After all, Jesus was crucified with two of them, and they all went to Heaven. Then there is Bishop Gynewell, who also objected to Aylmer on moral grounds.’
‘Gynewell would hardly have asked me to investigate, if he was the culprit,’ said Michael, deciding not to comment on Miller’s singular interpretation of the scriptures.
Langar gave a sly smile. ‘Or he might have asked you to investigate specifically to conceal his guilt. Do not take everything at face value, Brother.’
‘It was Hamo,’ said Lora with malicious satisfaction. ‘He disliked Aylmer being in his convent, and asked Prior Roger to eject him. Roger was going to do it, too, until we passed him a few coins.’
‘And there is another possibility,’ said Langar. ‘Prior Roger, killing an unwanted guest after Aylmer’s nonrefundable rent had been paid. Roger needs money desperately, but he also has a duty to preserve his convent’s integrity. And even Aylmer’s best friends cannot tell you he was a saint.’