Tulyet eyed him lugubriously. ‘I accepted your reasoning about that when you explained it the first time. There is no need to repeat it – I realise I was wrong.’
‘It must be a lucrative business,’ Bartholomew went on, thoughts racing. ‘Or Inge would not have bothered. People happily kill where large amounts of money are concerned – and that is why Lucas, Reames and Peres were murdered. Not because of the tomb-makers’ feud.’
Tulyet lost his resigned expression and regarded him intently. ‘Go on.’
‘Lucas was first, stabbed with a chisel while he was waiting to sell us information. He talked about knowing “people and places”, and we assumed he referred to the killer. But he misled us.’
‘I disagree. Michael offered him threepence for the culprit’s name, and his response suggested that he knew it.’
‘He wanted the money,’ corrected Bartholomew. ‘So he said what was necessary to get us into the churchyard at midnight. However, I suspect what he had to sell was information about the thefts, not the murders. The thieves guessed that he was going to betray them, so they stabbed him, doing so messily and without finesse.’
Tulyet nodded slowly. ‘Very well. And Reames?’
‘Everyone thought his death was revenge for Lucas. However, he was killed – brained with a stone – not long after being questioned by you about the disappearance of lead from Gonville’s chapel. Did you notice his hands?’
‘Yes, they were filthy. He told me it is an occupational hazard for latteners, although I confess I was suspicious of the fact that he kept hiding them behind his back.’
‘You should have been – lead leaves black marks, but brass does not. I suspect he was involved in the thefts, and his accomplices grew nervous when he was summoned to the castle.’
‘They need not have been,’ said Tulyet bitterly. ‘He told me nothing.’
‘Not that time, but you would have tried again, and they are unwilling to take chances – especially with a man who strutted about with incriminating stains on his hands. They killed him to protect themselves.’
Tulyet was thoughtful. ‘You may be right. Lakenham and Cristine are poor, but Reames was always very well dressed, so he must have had an additional source of income. However, it cannot have been another job, as that is forbidden to apprentices. Could it have come from an inheritance? Lakenham did mention that he was an orphan.’
‘I suspect that was a lie on Reames’ part, to explain the sudden windfall that allowed him to indulge his penchant for new clothes.’
‘So his money came from helping Inge,’ surmised Tulyet. ‘What about Peres? Lakenham and Cristine are convinced that Reames was killed by the masons, regardless of whether or not it is true, so I am inclined to think that they killed Peres for simple revenge.’
‘The aqua-coloured thread snagged in Peres’ fingernail proves they did not.’
Tulyet frowned. ‘It does? How?’
‘Because you did not find such a garment in their house – if you had, you would have arrested them on the spot.’
‘I would,’ acknowledged Tulyet. ‘But they could have got rid of it before I arrived.’
‘That is unlikely for two reasons. First, we did not make the discovery of the thread public, so how could they have known what to do? And second, when Cristine’s cloak was stolen from St Mary the Great, she complained about being too poor to buy another – they cannot afford to throw good clothes away.’
‘Fair enough. Continue.’
‘Peres was sent to buy a chisel, but used the opportunity to come here instead, probably to grind the horned serpent off Oswald’s tomb – he was the one who carved it, but Edith complained, so Marjory probably asked him to remove it. I think he was labouring away quietly when the thieves came for Cew’s brass. Peres saw them, and was stabbed to ensure his silence.’
‘Stabbed messily,’ mused Tulyet. ‘Like Lucas. Very well. I accept your reasoning – it fits with the facts as we know them. So who are these thieves?’
‘Now that I cannot tell you,’ replied Bartholomew. ‘I can only say that they are not Petit, Lakenham, Isnard or Gundrede.’
Chapter 15
Bartholomew and Tulyet left St John Zachary, noting with alarm the increasing number of scholars who gathered in groups, muttering. Some were Regent masters, vexed over the fact that their new Chancellor would be one of two men they did not much like, but most were students from the hostels, who always took to the streets when trouble was brewing.
‘They will settle down after noon tomorrow, when we have a new leader,’ predicted Master Braunch, who was standing near the rubble that comprised his fallen building. The path that had been cleared was in great demand, and he was there to prevent spats over precedence.
‘I hope you are right,’ said Tulyet worriedly. ‘Because I sense mischief in the air – and you do not need me to tell you that there are townsfolk who will join in any brawls.’
‘It is the uncertainty that bothers our scholars,’ said Braunch. ‘Even Michael’s detractors admit that he represents stability, and we are all fearful of what will happen when he leaves. The hunt for that bell is not helping either. It has turned into a contest between us and the town.’
They saw what he meant when a trio of lads from Physick Hostel engaged in a furious altercation with three villainous characters from the Swan. Tulyet quelled it with a few sharp words, after which he and Bartholomew hurried on to St Mary the Great.
They arrived to find that Michael had completed his mission to the belfry, and had prevented further debate on the self-ringing bell by sending Hopeman and Suttone off in different directions. Their supporters had gone with them, while the remaining spectators, deprived of entertainment, eventually drifted away.
‘Well?’ asked Tulyet. ‘Who was in the tower? Kolvyle? He strikes me as a lad to cause trouble, just for the delight of annoying you and seeing gullible colleagues jabber about Satan.’
‘No one was up there,’ replied Michael. ‘I can only assume that the wind set them clanging.’
‘There is no wind,’ said Bartholomew. ‘And it would take quite a gust to make those bells chime anyway – they are heavy.’
‘Then some mischievous student found a way to tug the ropes with no one seeing,’ said Michael irritably. ‘God knows, most are resourceful enough. But never mind them. Where have you two been?’
Bartholomew gave him a brief summary of their conclusions regarding the thefts.
‘So while Inge is probably the mastermind behind the scheme,’ he finished, ‘we do not know who helped him. And he did have help, given that the missing items are too bulky for him to have carried alone.’
‘We are rapidly running out of suspects for the murders as well,’ added Michael gloomily. ‘The only ones left on my original list are Hopeman, Kolvyle–’
He broke off as an urgent clatter of hoofs heralded the arrival of one of the beadles who had gone with Meadowman in pursuit of Godrich and Whittlesey. The man flung himself from the saddle and dashed towards Michael, leaving his horse lathered and trembling from the speed with which it had been ridden.
‘We found Godrich,’ he gasped. ‘In a tavern just south of Royston. He told us that Whittlesey had hurtled past on Satan a few hours earlier, going like the wind.’
‘Going where?’ asked Michael. ‘After Godrich, without realising that his cousin had stopped?’
The beadle shook his head. ‘Whittlesey believes that Godrich went north, because that is what he told him to do – slip away to live quietly in York or Chester. He does not know that Godrich ignored the advice and was aiming for France instead. You see, Whittlesey promised that if Godrich did as he was ordered, no charges would ever be brought against him.’