‘Then there is the sanctimonious John Suttone,’ added Miller. ‘There is no way he can be as ethical as he would have everyone believe. It would be unnatural. And his fellow priests would kill their own grandmothers for a penny. Although I understand that position, because my grandam–’
‘We have other suspects, too, beside clerics,’ interrupted Langar, before Miller could incriminate himself. ‘Dalderby is angry with us, because Thoresby was acquitted of threatening to behead him.’
‘And Kelby would do anything to hurt me,’ said Miller. He spat again. ‘He once called me a pugilist. I had to ask Langar what it meant, and was offended when he told me.’
‘Of course,’ said Chapman helpfully, ‘if the killer manages to confound you, Brother, you can always eavesdrop at the General Pardon, and see if anyone confesses to the murder.’
‘The killer will never confess here,’ said Miller scornfully. ‘No felon wants the cathedral priests to know about his most intimate crimes. I certainly do not.’
‘God’s teeth,’ breathed Bartholomew when they had gone. ‘That was unpleasant! Miller, Chapman and Lora are bullies in positions of power, and I am not surprised they are obliged to hold fairs to win people’s favour. But Langar seems dangerous. I imagine Chapman was right when he said Miller’s coterie rose on the back of his cunning. Miller might be the man who appears to be in charge, but I will wager anything that the real master is Langar.’
Michael shook his head. ‘Langar is sly, but there is no great strength in him. He may be full of ideas and plans, but it is Miller’s brutality that keeps them going. Regardless, I see why de Wetherset said we would not want to dine with them: the minster is awash with spit.’
‘I wish Langar had not recognised me from Shirlok’s trial. I told you there was something corrupt about that day, and I imagine that is the reason they ordered me not to mention it to anyone here.’
‘Very likely, so take Cynric with you if you go out after dark. We do not want you stabbed to ensure your silence. I intend to leave Lincoln as soon as I can, and your murder would delay me.’
‘I am pleased you have my welfare at heart, Brother.’
‘Always, Matt. Always.’
Bartholomew was unsettled by the danger he felt they were in, and wanted to analyse logically what they had learned. It was already late afternoon, and there was not much daylight left, so they began to walk back to the Gilbertine Priory, discussing the case as they went.
‘I wonder if Gynewell knew what he was asking when he ordered me to find Aylmer’s killer,’ said Michael unhappily. ‘Or perhaps he dislikes the notion of having a canon foisted on him who is an agent for a rival bishop, and hopes the investigation might see me killed. Meanwhile, Langar’s concern over what you might have seen in Cambridge all those years ago indicates that you are probably right when you say there was something odd about the verdict.’
‘No one else seems suspicious of it, though,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The tales in Lincoln seem to revolve around the fact that they were accused in the first place, not about the legitimacy of the acquittal. We should ask de Wetherset what really happened that day. He must know the truth – he was a juror.’
‘No, we should not,’ said Michael firmly. ‘That might tell Miller you are asking questions about the incident. Besides, de Wetherset told us Miller invited him to dinner, and it sounds as though they had a merry old time convincing each other of their mutual harmlessness.’
‘Or money exchanged hands in return for de Wetherset’s silence. He was very indignant when I asked whether he had been bribed, and that level of outrage is often indicative of a guilty conscience.’
‘Or indicative of the fact that you had just accused him of being corrupt. He was a University Chancellor, Matt, and while you may not have liked or trusted him, there are moral boundaries across which some men will not pass.’
‘However, they may not be the same limits as those set by honest men,’ Bartholomew pointed out. ‘But you are right: there is no point in quizzing de Wetherset, because he will not give us truthful answers anyway. Why should he, when admitting to corruption might mean his stall is withdrawn?’
‘And more importantly, he may tell Miller about your interest, and that is something we should definitely avoid. This may come as a surprise to you, but you are my friend, and I do not want to lose you to an assassin’s dagger. You must leave de Wetherset and Miller alone.’
‘They are both connected to Aylmer, Brother. How will we solve his murder if you plan to keep clear of them? And there is the Hugh Chalice. I still do not understand how that fits into your case, although I am sure it is significant, since Aylmer was holding it when he died.’
Michael rubbed his chin. ‘I wonder why he did that. It belonged to Simon, not him.’
‘The consensus seems to be that he was going to steal it.’
‘Right. And that means the murder may have nothing to do with Miller or his shady acquittal, and more to do with the fact that someone objected to Aylmer laying sticky fingers on a sacred object.’
‘Simon is the obvious candidate. He says he has an alibi in his singing, but he does not.’
Michael agreed. ‘The Gilbertines work themselves to such a state of ecstasy that I doubt they have the faintest idea what anyone else is doing.’
‘Did you notice that de Wetherset has changed his story? What he told us initially – that he attended prime with Simon in the convent on the day of Aylmer’s murder – was not what he said this morning. Today he claimed he had joined the Gilbertines on his first day as a guest in their priory, but found it too noisy, and has opted for something quieter ever since. Ergo, he is lying about something.’
‘I wondered whether you had picked up on that. Now, why he would tell us untruths?’
Bartholomew pulled his cloak more closely around him when a snowflake spiralled down and landed on his cheek. A second followed, and he saw they were in for another cold night. Dusk was on them, and lights were already burning in the Wigford houses. They passed the Church of the Holy Cross, and he saw the blackened shell of the priest’s house in its graveyard. He recalled that de Wetherset had lived with Simon before a blaze had driven them to take refuge with the Gilbertines.
‘Cynric made some enquiries about that in the taverns,’ he said, nodding towards the ruin. ‘Sheriff Lungspee was able to deduce that the cause was accidental – a brazier had been left burning by mistake. Simon and de Wetherset managed to escape with their belongings, and Simon’s successor is lodging with a relative until the house can be rebuilt.’
Michael glanced at him. ‘You sound unsure. Do you think they let the fire rage deliberately?’
Bartholomew shrugged, then nodded. ‘The inferno made everyone sorry for Simon, and he was immediately offered a prebendal stall. You have to wonder whether he had been promised such an honour, but it was taking too long to come, so he drew attention to himself with a misfortune – a misfortune that did not cost him any of his possessions, given that he still had plenty of money to buy the Hugh Chalice.’
‘And I am sure Chapman charged him a princely fee,’ mused Michael.
‘Perhaps de Wetherset is willing to lie for Simon because he was warned of the conflagration and it saved his life. Or perhaps it was de Wetherset’s carelessness that caused the fire.’
‘Possibly, although I still cannot see him engaging in such unsavoury activities. However, none of this is relevant to Aylmer – unlike the Hugh Chalice. Shall we go to see it?’ Michael’s voice was oddly casual. ‘We are almost at the Gilbertine convent, thank the good Lord. It is cold out tonight. Can you see that frost sparkling on the Eleanor Cross?’
Bartholomew glanced at it, and remembered poking icicles off Matilde’s eaves with a broom handle – she had been afraid they might fall and hurt someone. He wondered whether she had recruited someone else to do it now, and whether she would be settled with another man when – and if – he ever found her. Suddenly, the night seemed colder and darker, and his prospects of happiness bleak.