You cannot allow another unsavoury incident to occur if you wish your College to survive.
'Now, two College members have been murdered, perhaps by another, although I do not care to guess who the perpetrator of the crime might be. The College has been searched, and has revealed nothing. All the commoners, students, and servants have alibis- assuming that Brother Paul was slain during or after the feast. The commoners were all together, and each can vouch for every one of the others. Since the regular term's lectures have not yet begun, there are only fifteen students in residence, and all, like the commoners, can give alibis for each other. The servants had a hard night of work, and one missing pair of hands would have been immediately noticed. After the feast, they all retired exhausted to bed, and the good Mistress Agatha, who was kept awake by a grieving woman, swears that none left the servants' quarters until woken by the Steward this morning.
'That leaves the Fellows. Please understand that I am accusing no one, but you will each tell me where you were last night, and with whom. Master Wilson, perhaps you would set the example and begin.' "Me?' said Wilson, taken aback. 'But I am the Master, I…'
'Your movements, please, Master Wilson,' said the Bishop coldly.
Wilson blustered for a few moments, while the Bishop waited like a coiled snake for him to begin.
'After Doctor Bartholomew told us that Augustus was dead, I felt it inappropriate to continue at the feast.
Father William, Master Alcote, and Master Swynford left with me. Bartholomew and Brother Michael had already retired, and Master Abigny stayed, although I did not condone this.' A glint of pleasure crossed his features at having expressed his disapproval of Abigny to the Bishop.
'On the contrary, Master Wilson,' the Bishop intervened smoothly, "I hope you did condone it. After all, you were going to leave students in your hall with seemingly unlimited quantities of wine, and a riot narrowly averted earlier in the day. I would consider it an act of prudence to leave a Fellow to oversee affairs. Why did you not end the feast?'
Bartholomew hid a smile. He knew that many students disliked Wilson and he had been trying to win them round with his generosity with the wine. He would not have wished to negate any positive points he might have gained by ending the feast when the students were still enjoying themselves.
Wilson opened and shut his mouth a few times, before Swynford intervened. 'We discussed that, my Lord Bishop. We felt that Augustus would not wish such a joyous occasion to be brought to an early conclusion on his account'
The Bishop looked at Swynford narrowly before returning his attention to Wilson. 'And what did you do after you left the hall, Master Wilson?' he continued.
"I walked with Master Alcote to our room. I only moved into the Master's room today; last night I was in my old room. We talked for a while about Augustus, and then we went to sleep.'
'Does this tally with your memory?' the Bishop asked Alcote.
The nervous little man nodded, looking even more like a hen than usual. 'Yes, we talked until the candle expired, and then went to sleep. Neither of us went out, or knew any more, until the next morning.'
'Father Aelfrith?' "I left the hall and went straight to Augustus's room, where I stayed all night. At some point, I heard a noise and went to check Brother Paul, who had been ill. He was asleep, and none of the other commoners had yet returned. I went back to my prayers, and was hit on the head from behind. I heard nothing and saw nothing.
The next thing I recall was being helped up by Doctor Bartholomew.'
'Master Swynford?' "I left the hall with Father William, and Masters Alcote and Wilson. I saw Brother Michael and Doctor Bartholomew walking together across the courtyard to their staircase. I went straight to my room and went to sleep. I am afraid that because I room alone, I have no alibi,' he said with an apologetic smile.
'Who else lives on your staircase?' the Bishop enquired.
'Father William lives downstairs from me.'
'Father, what were your movements?' "I left the hall and went directly to my room. I saw Master Swynford go past moments later and disappear up the stairs. I share a room with three others of my Order, students, who left the feast when I did. All four of us prayed throughout the night for Augustus's soul, as did Father Aelfrith.'
'If Master Swynford had left his room during the night, would you have heard him?' "I believe so, my Lord Bishop,' said William, after a moment's consideration. 'The night was humid. We did not want our voices to disturb others who were sleeping, and so the window shutters were closed, but the door was open to allow us some air. I am certain we would have heard if Master Swynford came down the stairs.'
'There is your alibi, Master Swynford,' said the Bishop. 'Doctor Bartholomew, where were you?' "I went back to my room, checked on the blacksmith — he had had his leg broken in the skirmish outside the gates,' he added hastily, seeing the Bishop raise his eyebrows. "I was tired and went to sleep straight away. I do not know when Giles returned. I rose while it was still quite dark, and, seeing the candle in Augustus's room, went to offer to relieve Father Aelfrith. I fought with someone and was pushed down the stairs. I could find no trace of him when I went to look, and then discovered that what I had assumed to be Augustus's body lying on the floor was actually Father Aelfrith, and Augustus had gone.'
'So you have no one who can confirm where you were all night?' asked the Bishop.
Bartholomew shook his head and saw Wilson exchange smug glances with Alcote.
'Brother Michael?' said the Bishop.
Michael shrugged. 'Like our physician, I have no alibi. We walked to our staircase together. I saw him check the disgusting man with the broken leg, and go into his own room. I went upstairs. My room-mates were enjoying Master Wilson's good wine in the hall, and were still enjoying it when dawn broke this morning. I was alone all night.'
'And finally you, Master Abigny. What have you to say?' "I was in the company of Michael's two room-mates and the other students until I was too drunk to stay awake any longer,' Abigny announced cheerfully, ignoring Wilson's look of anger. 'The same two Benedictines took time from their roistering to help me to my room, where I remember nothing until woken by Alexander with stories of missing bodies and murder.' He sat back indolently, and Bartholomew knew that his entire demeanour was carefully calculated to annoy Wilson as much as possible.
'Let us summarise,' said the Bishop, ignoring Abigny's display. 'Everyone's movements can be vouched for except Bartholomew, Aelfrith, and Michael. Aelfrith could not have hit himself on the head from behind, and Bartholomew saw him lying on the floor before he engaged in his struggle.
'So, what we have left is a mystery. There is no doubt that evil deeds were committed, and that two men died. I find it difficult to believe that Doctor Bartholomew would mistake a living man for a corpse, but these things happen, especially after copious amounts of Master Wilson's good wine.' He raised his hand to stall the objection that Bartholomew was about to voice. He had had very little to drink the night before, chiefly because he did not feel Wilson's succession of Sir John good cause for celebration.
'Augustus, whether dead or alive, has gone. We may never know whether he was innocent or guilty of murder.
It is imperative that this business is done with as quickly as possible. Neither your College nor the University can afford to have gossip about missing corpses and murders.