‘I am not tired at all,’ said Michael, continuing to pace. The wooden floor creaked and groaned under his weight, and Bartholomew was grateful he was not in his own chamber below, trying to concentrate on his treatise. ‘Unlike you, it seems – you look as though you are about to fall asleep. When I claimed fatigue in the conclave earlier, I was merely bringing that uncomfortable session to a close. In fact, the little puzzle surrounding Runham’s demise is most invigorating, and I am beginning to feel much more like my old self.’
‘I am sure Runham would be delighted to hear that he is the cause of your miraculous recovery,’ said Bartholomew dryly.
‘He would,’ agreed Michael comfortably. ‘Because then he could rest happily in Hell knowing that I will track down his killer and bring him to justice. You are sure there is a killer, are you? Only I would hate to expend my energy, time and talent on this, only to learn later that no crime has been committed after all. I am relying wholly on your say-so that Runham was murdered.’
‘Runham was definitely murdered,’ said Bartholomew drowsily, linking his hands behind his head. ‘But I do not see how you will solve this, Brother. You have more suspects than you know what to do with – and those are just the ones you know about. I am sure Runham had enemies in all sorts of places, about whom we know nothing.’
‘Meaning?’ asked Michael.
‘Meaning that there are the Fellows of Bene’t, for a start. None of them were exactly delighted to learn that their labourers had been poached by Runham to work for Michaelhouse. To pay us back, they even went as far as enticing Agatha from us. They may regret doing that. Fond though I am of her, she is not exactly what you would call a pliant and dutiful servant.’
‘Very true,’ said Michael complacently. ‘And that is why I encouraged her to accept the Bene’t post. I do not like that superior Heltisle, or his conniving henchman Caumpes. Having Agatha in their fold will serve them right. She will put Osmun in his place, too: he will not be bullying the students with her around.’
‘Is there anything connected to the University that is beyond your influence?’ asked Bartholomew in disbelief.
‘No,’ said Michael, pleased by the recognition of his meddling skills. ‘But my talent for managing University affairs is not what we should be talking about. We need to wrap our minds around the few facts we have regarding the saintly Master Runham’s exit from this world.’
‘Must we?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘I am sure we will not like what we discover.’
‘Ignorance is bliss, eh?’ asked Michael. He gave his friend a wicked grin. ‘Runham did not leave you a purse of gold to build him a fine tomb, as did his cousin, did he?’
‘If he had, then we would need it to pay all these workmen,’ said Bartholomew. ‘How are we going to do that now? Michaelhouse is virtually penniless.’
‘We will face that problem when it arises,’ said Michael. ‘We should not waste time by fretting over it now.’
‘It may arise sooner than you think,’ said Bartholomew worriedly.
‘Not for another twenty-six days. The builders agreed to work for a month, and they have only been going since Wednesday.’
‘I made the decision to leave for Paris tomorrow,’ said Bartholomew, almost absently. ‘If the killer had struck at Runham then instead of last night, I would not have been caught up in this.’
‘Paris?’ asked Michael. His jaw dropped. ‘No, Matt! I do not believe you! You were going to yield to Runham and leave Michaelhouse, just as he wanted you to do?’
‘I was,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I still might.’
‘I was certain the fact that Runham wanted you to leave would be sufficient to make you want to stay,’ said Michael, astonished. ‘It goes to show that you should never take for granted the people you think you know, and that they can still give you the odd surprise. We would be as well to remember that as we investigate this murder, Matt.’
‘We?’ asked Bartholomew weakly.
‘I need you,’ said Michael in the kind of tone that made it final. ‘And you cannot slink off to Paris now, anyway. It would look as if you killed Runham.’ He gave Bartholomew a sidelong glance. ‘You did not, did you?’
‘No. And you know me better than to ask that,’ said Bartholomew, irritably.
Michael smiled. ‘Yes, I do. But it does no harm to ask. You had the motive: he threatened everything you hold dear – your teaching and your medicine. And you had the opportunity, given that you have no one to vouch for your whereabouts at the salient time.’
‘Neither does anyone else. Including you.’
‘True.’
Bartholomew sighed. ‘I know you did not kill him, Brother. You are more likely to create some colossal scandal to bring him down, not murder him by stealth in the middle of the night. You are no cushion-over-the-face man.’
‘Nicely put,’ said Michael. ‘Lord, I am hungry! Will you walk with me to the Brazen George?’
‘Not now,’ said Bartholomew, closing his eyes. ‘Fetch something from the kitchen.’
Michael pulled a face of disgust. ‘There is nothing in the kitchen! Runham decided not to pay the grocer, and so there is not a scrap to eat. Of course, there is always that plum cake you were given by the Saddler family, which has been sitting alone and forgotten on your windowsill.’
‘Not forgotten, it seems,’ said Bartholomew, astonished by the things the monk seemed to notice.
Within moments, Michael had collected the cake and was back in his room, cutting generous slices with the slim knife he used for sharpening his pens. He handed Bartholomew a piece that was about half the size of the one he took for himself, and then settled himself in a chair.
‘I have never before encountered a case like this, Matt,’ he said conversationally as he ate. ‘Usually, once you have a man with a motive, it is only a case of establishing that he had the means and the opportunity. Given that Runham died some time between sunset and dawn, then virtually all our suspects – Fellows, students, servants and workmen – had the opportunity, and the means was nothing more sinister than a pretty cushion. And most of Cambridge had a motive to kill the man.’
‘I cannot imagine how you will proceed.’
‘It certainly poses a challenge! And I need a challenge like this to put me on the road to recovery.’
‘There is nothing wrong with you, Brother,’ said Bartholomew tiredly. ‘You are quite well enough to outwit the killer of Runham.’
Michael sighed. ‘I know. But I must admit I have enjoyed the last few days. I should be ill more often: people have been kind, I have been provided with better food than the slop I am normally expected to live on, and everyone keeps telling me how much I am missed. My week away from the University has proven to everyone what I have always known: that I am indispensable.’
Bartholomew had reached an interesting part in his treatise on fevers, and was able to distance himself from the clatter of the workmen outside. He worked until the bell should have sounded for the midday meal, but was told by the cook that the scholars had not been summoned because Michaelhouse had no food. Langelee had been correct when he had claimed Runham had declined to pay the College’s bills, and an infuriated grocer had arrived that morning to claim any unused stock he could lay hands on. There were some flat, hard loaves baked with flour and water, but the absence of fat or salt made them unpalatable on their own – like chewing on parchment.