Eventually, Bartholomew and Michael met by the shrine of Little Hugh. The cold weather had depleted the number of pilgrims, and it was deserted, except for Bautre, who was fortifying himself with Eleanor’s holy ‘water’. He blushed when he realised he had been seen, and scuttled away before they could talk to him.
‘Cynric told me he found Simon’s prayer for his brother Adam Molendinarius here,’ said Michael. ‘Did you see it? I am not sure I trust Cynric’s Latin.’
‘He read some of it aloud, but I did not look myself, obviously. I certainly did not believe his translation of the part that “proves” Simon was the lover of Christiana’s mother.’
‘Is it here now?’ asked Michael, taking a dead twig from a wreath and trying to rake the petitions towards him. ‘Do not look disapproving. I am a monk. It is all right for me to do this sort of thing.’
Bartholomew glanced through the railings. ‘You are out of luck, Brother. Simon used some very white parchment, and I cannot see it now. Perhaps he noticed it in the wrong place, and retrieved it.’
‘Or someone else got it, and decided Miller’s brother is fair game in the city’s feud. Here comes Archdeacon Ravenser. We shall ask him whether he has noticed anything untoward happening here.’
‘All the time,’ replied Ravenser, sounding surprised Michael should need to enquire. ‘Visitors are always using the stems of flowers in an attempt to snag jewels and coins. However, Tetford was scheduled to tend Little Hugh this week, and he did fulfil his obligations – unusually for him. I saw him collect the prayers and read them all. He forgot to burn them on the altar, though, as we are supposed to do.’
Michael exchanged a glance with Bartholomew. ‘What else did you see?’
‘Nothing,’ said Ravenser. ‘No, wait! There was something. I saw Tetford talking to Miller later, and whatever he was saying made the fellow very angry.’
‘He could have been telling Miller he was going to close the tavern,’ warned Bartholomew, seeing Michael start to draw conclusions. ‘And so would no longer buy Lora Boyner’s ale.’
‘You should look to the Commonalty for Tetford’s death, Brother,’ said Ravenser. ‘You certainly should not search the cathedral for clues, and especially not around me. I know Bartholomew thinks I killed Tetford to get his alehouse, but he is wrong.’
‘I shall bear it in mind,’ said Michael. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’
‘Not really. Tetford spent a lot of time with Little Hugh the day he died. Thinking, probably. He kept reading the letter Bishop de Lisle sent him, and he drank a lot of the wine Christiana sneaks into Dame Eleanor’s flask. Still, at least he had the decency to provide a replacement pot.’
He pointed to a flask, cunningly concealed at the back of the tomb. It was identical to the one in which Eleanor kept her holy water, and Bartholomew had seen others just like them for sale at the market the previous day. The physician retrieved it with difficulty, and Ravenser sauntered away. The dust Bartholomew had disturbed in laying hold of the container made him sneeze. He raised his hand to his face to stifle the noise, then recoiled in horror when his fingers reeked of fish. Thoughts tumbling in confusion, he inspected the jug’s contents. Sure enough, it held poison.
‘So, Tetford was trying to kill me,’ said Michael indignantly. ‘And here is his secret supply to prove it. He wanted me dispatched, in the hope that he would proceed straight to my stall.’
‘He did say he wanted to advance quickly in the Church,’ agreed Bartholomew. ‘Can we be sure this belonged to him? A lot of people have access to this shrine. Anyone could have put it there.’
‘Ravenser said Tetford was on duty here this week, and you have to admit it is a clever hiding place. He hatched his plot to kill me, but tried to blackmail Miller over the identity of his brother first. Fortunately for me, someone shot him before he could share his celebratory wine.’
Bartholomew shook the flask. ‘We need to dispose of this before someone else dies – dispose of it properly, I mean, by pouring it down a drain.’
‘They are all frozen solid, so it will have to go in the river. No, do not put it in your medical bag, man! We are about to visit Miller, and if he finds out you are carrying enough poison to murder his entire household, we will end up with our throats cut for certain.’
‘Well, we cannot leave it here. We shall have to go to the river first.’
‘There is no time. Did you not sense the city’s restlessness this morning? I have the feeling that unless we resolve some of these crimes fast, the place is going to explode into violence. Push the flask as far behind the tomb as you can, and we will retrieve it as soon as we have finished with Miller.’
‘Leaving poison lying around is not a good idea–’
‘And neither is carting it around a city that is on the verge of a riot. Besides, it was Tetford’s poison, and he is dead. Who else is going to use it? Do as I say, Matt. You know I am right.’
Bartholomew did know, but he was not happy about the decision, even so.
‘I know I said time was short, but we cannot see Miller yet,’ said Michael, as they left the cathedral. ‘I am too confused. I need to sit quietly for a few moments and think. With a man like Miller, asking the wrong questions might see us in very deep water, and I do not want to make unnecessary mistakes.’
‘Can you do it while we walk to the river?’ asked Bartholomew, turning to go back inside and collect the poison.
‘That will take too long, and I cannot think clearly when my heart pounds from scaling that hill anyway. We shall visit the minster refectory, and you can analyse what we have learned so far while I listen.’
‘I cannot – I do not understand it myself. I do not even know where to start.’
‘In Cambridge, twenty years ago. I have a feeling that is where this business originates.’
Bartholomew was thoughtful. ‘No, it begins in London, before the Cambridge trial. The two friars were given the Hugh Chalice to transport to Lincoln, but Shirlok relieved them of it when they broke their journey at Cambridge. Shirlok then sold it to the priest at Geddynge, and within a few days had taken it back to sell again, with the help of Lora Boyner.’
‘Shirlok was caught and decided to name ten accomplices in an attempt to mitigate his sentence. Meanwhile, Chapman told us the two friars were killed on their way back to London – he said by robbers, but I suspect by Miller’s gang. Come with me, Matt. It is too cold to think out here.’
Bartholomew followed him into the refectory that served the cathedral’s officials, where they found a table near a fire. The windows were shuttered against the bitter weather, and the room was lit and warmed by the braziers around the walls. A servant brought bread, cheese and ale, then left them alone. The physician was silent for a moment, then began again.
‘The accomplices Shirlok named were Nicholas Herl and Sabina – not married at that point – Miller, Chapman, Aylmer, Lora Boyner and four others, including Miller’s brother. Langar was the clerk who recorded the case.’
Michael took up the tale. ‘The appellees were acquitted, despite the fact that some were known felons: Herl had been accused of robbery the year before, but was released for lack of evidence; Sabina’s first husband was hanged for theft and she was implicated in his activities; and Chapman could not leave Cambridge with Miller, because he was in gaol on another charge.’
‘Shirlok was hanged, but miraculously escaped. Then the recovered property went missing, thanks to de Wetherset. Perhaps it was then that Herl, Chapman and Aylmer marked themselves with cups. Miller did not, because he said he had always wondered what the symbol meant. Later, Flaxfleete joined their ranks, although by the time we met him, he was their enemy.’