‘I do not envy you your task, Brother,’ he said. ‘I cannot imagine how you will charge the Devil with Tynkell’s murder. However, I saw Moleyns take his tumble, and I can assure you that Satan was not responsible for that. I would have sensed him, you see.’
‘Right,’ said Michael flatly. ‘So who did kill Moleyns?’
Milde considered the question carefully. ‘Well, his wife and lawyer were leaning over his inert form at one point. Have you considered them as suspects?’
‘Oh, yes.’
The vicar turned to Lakenham and Cristine. ‘You were there as well. Did you see anything that might help?’
‘We only came later,’ said Lakenham quickly. ‘And we saw nothing.’
Milde frowned. ‘Really? I was sure you were … but no matter. It was dark, and my eyes are not what they were.’
‘Quite,’ agreed Lakenham. ‘And it is easy to be mistaken. But about this brass for Tynkell, Brother. Here are some sketches I made last night, and if you choose one, I will devote every waking moment to it. Unlike Petit, who will put you at the back of a very long queue.’
It was some time before Michael could extricate himself from the eager lattener. He was thoughtful as they left the church.
‘We shall certainly keep Lakenham and Cristine on our list of suspects,’ he said. ‘Even if he baulks at murder, she will not. And their motive is obvious: they are desperate for the work. Godrich was right to remark that the death of a wealthy man is good news for tomb-makers.’
The castle stood on a ridge above the town, reached by a short but stiff climb. It had started life as a simple motte raised by the Normans shortly after the Conquest, but had been expanded since, and was now a significant fortress. It comprised a curtain wall that surrounded a very large bailey, punctuated by towers and the Great Keep. There were also barracks, a chapel, storerooms, a huge kitchen, stables and an armoury.
Sergeant Helbye was in the bailey, supervising drill. He had been one of Bartholomew’s first ever patients, and he had not been young then. Now he moved as though his joints hurt, and there was a weariness in his eyes that had not been there before. The physician wondered how long it would be before he was forced to retire, although Helbye, who claimed his ancestors had been warriors since the time of William the Conqueror, was determined to avoid such an ignominious fate.
Tulyet’s office was a sparse, functional space on the first floor of the Great Keep. A bench was available for visitors, although it was not a very long one. When Bartholomew and Michael arrived, Egidia and Inge were already sitting on it, which meant that they were obliged to stand.
‘What, again?’ groaned Egidia, when Michael asked her to tell him what had happened the previous evening. ‘I have repeated it at least a dozen times already.’
‘And you might have to repeat it a dozen more,’ said Michael coolly, ‘if it helps us catch the villain who dispatched your husband in full sight of his lawyer and loving wife.’
Egidia looked sharply at him. ‘I hope you are not suggesting that Inge or I were responsible. We had no reason to harm John, and his death leaves us prostrate with grief.’
They did not look particularly distressed, leaving Bartholomew to reflect that Tulyet and Vicar Milde might be right to suggest them as suspects for the murder. Of course, that would mean Cook was innocent, which would be a pity. Unless the three of them had colluded, of course – they had been acquainted in Nottingham, and might be bosom friends for all Bartholomew knew.
‘How well do you know Cook?’ he asked, deciding to find out, although the question was something of a non sequitur to the others, who had no way of knowing the direction his thoughts had taken.
‘As well as any man knows the fellow who shaves him,’ replied Inge cautiously. ‘We were acquainted in Nottingham, and I use his services here, because he is the only barber-surgeon in town. Why?’
‘He wrote to tell us that Cambridge was a charming place,’ said Egidia, before Bartholomew could reply. ‘But he lied. It is vile, and it will be more wretched still once we win compensation for our grievous loss. We will be awarded so much money that it will take you years to pay it off.’
‘I recommend you wait for the result of our official enquiry before making that sort of threat,’ warned Michael sharply, while Bartholomew noted that the association between Cook, Egidia and Inge must be tighter than they were willing to admit, if the barber had taken the time and trouble to send them missives. ‘Or we might claim compensation from you – for slander. Now tell us what happened yesterday.’
‘We went to the Market Square to buy cloth,’ replied Inge, although Egidia bristled at the reprimand. ‘From Edith Stanmore. But Moleyns took so long over it that Egidia and I went to St Mary the Great to admire Dallingridge’s tomb instead.’
‘Why?’ asked Michael suspiciously.
‘Because it is a fine spectacle, with its soaring pinnacles and the elegant brasses along its sides,’ replied Inge smoothly. ‘And we both appreciate good art.’
‘We hurried outside when we heard the commotion on the tower,’ Egidia went on, ‘but the best vantage points were gone, so all we saw was the occasional bobbing head or arm.’
‘How well did you know Tynkell?’
‘Not at all,’ replied Egidia promptly. ‘I never met him.’
‘Nor I,’ averred Inge. ‘There has been no need to deal with scholars, not when so many townsfolk have hastened to make our acquaintance.’
‘You do have dealings with scholars,’ countered Tulyet crossly. ‘The Fellows of King’s Hall and the Dominicans were always popping in and out. Then Lyng and Kolvyle were regular visitors, along with the vicars of St Clement’s, St John Zachary and–’
‘They came to see Moleyns,’ interrupted Inge with a bland smile. ‘Not us. Besides, Tynkell was never among them.’
‘Then what about in St Mary the Great?’ pressed Michael. ‘Did Tynkell meet you there?’
‘He may have spoken to John,’ replied Egidia, although a slight pause indicated that she had considered her answer carefully before speaking. ‘But never to us.’
‘So what did you do when the spectacle on the roof was over?’
‘We collected our horses and rejoined Moleyns in the market,’ replied Inge. ‘And as he had seen no cloth that he wanted, Mistress Stanmore invited us to her warehouse in Milne Street, where there is more of a selection.’
‘We were there a long time, so she offered us home-baked cakes,’ continued Egidia. ‘When we had eaten our fill, we started to ride back to the castle …’
‘We took the High Street route, because it was less icy than the side roads,’ said Inge. ‘Helbye was with us, and you were behind, Sheriff.’
‘Yes – behind,’ spat Egidia, glaring at Tulyet. ‘If you had been at his side, where you belonged, John would still be alive.’
‘We stopped frequently to exchange greetings with friends and acquaintances,’ Inge went on when Tulyet declined to respond. ‘He spoke to you two, if I recall aright.’
‘Yes, he did,’ nodded Michael. ‘To hint that he might know who killed Tynkell.’
Inge and Egidia exchanged a glance that was impossible to interpret.
‘Really?’ asked Inge warily. ‘He said nothing about it to us.’
‘Who else did he greet?’
Inge waved an expansive hand. ‘Lots of folk – most had seen the Chancellor slain by Satan, and it is difficult to return to one’s duties after such an event, so a good many people were out and about. For example, Moleyns chatted to the men of King’s Hall, while Egidia and I spoke to the Mayor and his burgesses.’