‘Are you sure it was Caumpes who killed Raysoun, Wymundham and Brother Patrick?’ asked Bartholomew of Michael. ‘Only he denied it, you see.’
‘Well, he would, Matt,’ said Michael, wearily. ‘Perhaps he knows he will be caught sooner or later, and is already planning his defence.’
‘Caumpes did not kill Raysoun,’ said Simeon. ‘He fell from the scaffolding while drunk.’
Bartholomew sighed. ‘Wymundham said Raysoun whispered with his dying breath that he had been pushed.’
‘Any of the workmen will tell you that there was no one anywhere near Raysoun when he fell,’ replied Simeon. ‘Almost before Raysoun had breathed his last, Wymundham had started rumours that he had been murdered, but they were lies, intended to create disharmony and suspicion among the Fellowship.’
‘While in prison, Osmun told Robin of Grantchester that Wymundham had stabbed Raysoun,’ said Bartholomew, trying to sit even closer to the fire.
‘Osmun would believe anything of Wymundham,’ said the Duke’s man. ‘They hated each other. But I saw Wymundham arrive at Raysoun’s side, and the builder’s awl was already sticking out of him. And much as I would like a neat end to all this, and have Raysoun’s death blamed on that scheming weasel, I know it is not true. Raysoun fell and the awl pierced him as he landed.’
‘But why would Wymundham want his colleagues accused of murder?’ asked Bartholomew.
‘Wymundham was not a pleasant man,’ said Heltisle. ‘He was bitter and twisted, and resented anyone else’s good fortune. As I told you before, I was not sorry to hear that he had died, although I did not wish him murdered.’
‘We knew Wymundham’s lies about Raysoun’s death would be damaging to Bene’t,’ said Simeon. ‘Even though the workmen were prepared to swear it was just a tragic accident, you know how people are – they would much rather hear about a murder than a boring accident.’
He glanced significantly at Bartholomew, who realised that despite the claims of honest men, like the carpenter Robert de Blaston, he had been more inclined to believe the unsubstantiated claims of Wymundham. And all the time, evidence that Raysoun had been drinking had been staring him in the face: he himself had smelled wine on Raysoun, and he had seen the wineskin that Raysoun had dropped when he had fallen.
‘And even though there was a crowd of people around Raysoun as he died, it is curious that only Wymundham heard these last words, is it not?’ Heltisle pointed out.
‘I certainly did not, and I was kneeling next to him, giving him last rites,’ added Michael.
Bartholomew recalled his surprise that Raysoun had spoken, given the extent of his injuries. Now it seemed that Raysoun’s broken back had indeed robbed him of consciousness. Wymundham had been lying.
‘So, the remaining Fellows had a meeting, to decide what to do about Wymundham’s behaviour,’ said Simeon. ‘I suggested we pay him to tell the truth. Buying men off usually works at court.’
‘It was a dreadful idea,’ said Heltisle mournfully. ‘It gave Wymundham the means to indulge in a drinking spree. As soon as the coins had left my hands, he went to Holy Trinity Church to buy some cheap wine.’
And that explained why Wymundham had appeared furtive when entering the church, thought Bartholomew: he was about to embark on a binge that the University would condemn, because he had known about Holy Trinity’s wine-seller who offered cheap drink that had been illegally exempted from the King’s taxes.
‘I spotted Wymundham staggering around the church and went to fetch the others,’ continued Simeon. ‘When Caumpes saw Wymundham lying in a drunken stupor wearing his Bene’t tabard, proclaiming to the world which College he was from, he was livid.’
‘I had to order Caumpes back to the College while the rest of us dealt with Wymundham,’ added Heltisle. He gave a grim smile. ‘Actually, he was ready to rid us of Wymundham long before that day. In September, he and I overheard him with that Brother Patrick of Ovyng, exchanging nasty snippets of gossip as they strolled in the water meadows one Sunday afternoon. Caumpes was furious, and almost had his dagger out then, too.’
‘Well, he had his wish,’ said Simeon. ‘Caumpes killed Wymundham in the hut you just saw burned to the ground. And then he must have rowed the body to Horwoode’s land and dumped it there because it is the most isolated spot on the King’s Ditch.’
‘Why did you not tell me this before?’ asked Michael. ‘It would have saved a lot of trouble.’
Simeon sighed. ‘We had been to some trouble to protect the College from Wymundham. Why would we reveal to you what we had been to some pains to hide?’
‘But it is out now anyway,’ said Michael, slightly gloating. ‘And all your subterfuge has been in vain. I am not the gluttonous buffoon that you believe me to be, Master Simeon.’
Simeon gaped at him and then began to laugh. ‘So that was you eavesdropping on me near the King’s Ditch earlier? I would not have thought you agile enough to scale it! But as it happens, that is not what I think of you at all. I have listened to stories of your previous successes, and I know you have a formidable mind. But I swore an oath of allegiance to Bene’t, a Cambridge College. Do you think I would not take advantage of Oxford by spinning Master Heytesbury a few misguided opinions?’
Michael’s fat face slowly broke into a wide grin. ‘I like that. And I am beginning to like you!’
‘What are you two talking about?’ demanded Heltisle impatiently. ‘Whatever it is, we would be better discussing Caumpes and his wicked deeds.’
‘Caumpes must have killed Brother Patrick, too,’ said Michael, reluctantly dragging his thoughts back to the more mundane matter of murder.
Simeon looked puzzled. ‘Who is this Brother Patrick that everyone keeps mentioning?’
‘I do not know why Caumpes should kill Patrick,’ said Heltisle. ‘I know Wymundham and Patrick liked to gossip together, but with Wymundham dead, Patrick was irrelevant.’
‘Brother Patrick was seen running from Holy Trinity Church, having observed all of you standing around what we thought was Wymundham’s corpse,’ explained Michael to Simeon.
‘Oh him!’ said the Duke’s man in sudden understanding. ‘That was Patrick, was it?’
‘Do you know him?’ asked Michael.
‘He ran errands for Wymundham – including collecting money that Wymundham had extorted from people. Patrick was not a nice man, either. If he was seen running away from the church, it was probably because he did not want to be caught with his drunken comrade.’
‘I suppose Caumpes killed him after he had dispatched Wymundham, to ensure that the secrets Wymundham had discovered remained secrets,’ said Michael, in the tones of a man who felt he had resolved the last of the mystery.
‘If you knew Caumpes was a killer, why did you do nothing to stop him?’ asked Bartholomew of Simeon. ‘Why did you let him remain at large where he might have posed a threat to de Walton – among others?’
‘Because we had only just reasoned it out,’ said Simeon. ‘Heltisle, de Walton and I each knew a little, but none of us had the whole story. And although we suspected a Fellow had put an end to Wymundham, none of us knew which one. Needless to say no one was inclined to risk his own life by confiding his suspicions to a possible killer. It was only when I took the risk of approaching de Walton that we began to suspect Caumpes.’
Heltisle sighed. ‘Caumpes was thorough, I will say that.’
‘He was,’ agreed Michael. ‘And cool. It takes some nerve to linger where you have just tried to incinerate three people, and then wait for two of them to leave so that you can deal with the third.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Bartholomew, confused. ‘What did Caumpes do to de Walton?’