‘They say not, but I am not sure whether to believe them. They have lied to me in the past.’
‘Pennyroyal?’ asked Thelnetham, bemused. ‘Why would you want to know about that?’
‘Matt is interested in it,’ replied Michael vaguely. He glanced at Langelee, who was still staring out of the window. ‘Is anyone curious to know the outcome of my encounter with Gosse?’
‘I am,’ said Wynewyk, when Langelee made no reply. ‘What happened?’
‘He does not live alone,’ began Michael. ‘He has a sister, although you would not think they were related to look at them; he is small, while she is enormous. She is reputed to be a witch – although people tend to say that about anyone they do not like.’
‘They say it about Matthew,’ Thelnetham pointed out. ‘But he is very popular – among the lower class of citizen, at least. He is heartily reviled by persons of quality, of course.’
‘That is untrue!’ declared Wynewyk hotly, while Bartholomew regarded the Gilbertine in surprise. He knew not everyone approved of the way he practised medicine, but he had not been aware that he was ‘heartily reviled’. ‘He is very highly regarded among the town’s burgesses.’
‘Only because they are afraid to antagonise his brother-in-law,’ said Thelnetham acidly. ‘Oswald Stanmore is a powerful man, and no sane merchant wants to incur his displeasure.’
‘Gosse’s sister is named Idoma – not a lady I would like to meet on a dark night,’ Michael went on, cutting across Wynewyk’s retort. Bartholomew’s unorthodoxy was one of few subjects on which the Fellows could not agree, and there was almost certain to be a quarrel if they pursued it. ‘I do not recall when I last met a more unpleasant pair, and I am glad I took plenty of beadles with me.’
‘You did not fight them, did you?’ asked Thelnetham with a moue of distaste. ‘Blood is so difficult to remove from one’s habit.’
‘I would not know,’ replied Michael, regarding him askance. ‘I am usually careful not to spill any, especially my own.’
‘Did Gosse confess to attacking the Master?’ asked Wynewyk.
‘No,’ replied Michael. ‘He claims he was in the Cardinal’s Cap when Langelee was ambushed, and the landlord confirms this. Unfortunately, the tavern was busy, and the landlord cannot say whether Gosse was there all night. And the Cardinal’s Cap is not far from King’s Hall.’
‘Langelee said it was a scholar who attacked him,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Not Gosse and–’
‘Forget the matter, Brother,’ said Langelee, turning from the window at last. ‘It was a scholar, but it will transpire to be someone who does not want me to play in the next camp-ball game – some cheating villain from one of the rival teams. Pretend it did not happen.’
‘I most certainly shall not,’ declared Michael, horrified. ‘An attempt was made to kill the Master of my College, and that is unacceptable. I will unmask this villain and he shall answer for his crime.’
‘Then do it after you have eliminated the annoyance represented by Gosse,’ said Langelee tiredly.
Bartholomew frowned. ‘What annoyance?’
‘Several Colleges have been burgled recently,’ explained Langelee. ‘We all know Gosse is responsible, and the other heads of houses are beginning to ask why the Senior Proctor lets him roam free, doing as he pleases.’
‘Because my hands have been tied,’ Michael snapped. ‘Apparently, Gosse visited the town a few years back, and was convicted of theft. But he appealed the sentence, and clever lawyers got him acquitted. Then he sued, and Cambridge was forced to pay him a substantial sum in damages. The Mayor and his burgesses have informed me that it will not happen again.’
‘You mean you have been ordered not to challenge him?’ asked Suttone, shocked. ‘He can do what he likes, and you must let him, lest he demands more compensation?’
Michael nodded, his expression dark and angry. ‘He has already hired himself a lawyer, and knew exactly how not to incriminate himself when I interviewed him.’
‘What lawyer?’ demanded Thelnetham, indignant on behalf of his legal colleagues. ‘No one in the University would have anything to do with such a low scoundrel.’
‘He is a Suffolk man, apparently,’ replied Michael. ‘Probably someone from Clare, which is Gosse’s home. I did not meet him, but he had briefed Gosse well. I came away feeling as though I had been bested.’
‘This Gosse sounds horrible,’ said Hemmysby. ‘But I had never heard of him before last night.’
‘Neither had I,’ said Bartholomew. He opened his book again, not very interested in felons. Ambitious criminals were always invading the town in search of easy pickings, but they did not last long; Michael or Sheriff Tulyet usually ousted them before they did too much harm.
‘He is horrible,’ replied Michael grimly. ‘And so is his sister, who is said to be insane.’
‘I am said to be insane, too,’ remarked Clippesby from the floor. ‘But that does not make it true.’
‘Well, it is true in Idoma’s case,’ said Michael. ‘She twitched, blinked and flexed her fists the whole time I was there, giving the impression that it would take very little to send her into a frenzy of violence. I am not easily unnerved, but there was something about her that unsettled me profoundly.’
‘They are not like normal felons,’ agreed Suttone. ‘They are higher born, more intelligent and far more devious. I am glad it is not my duty to tackle them.’
Thelnetham was unimpressed by the situation. ‘Your hands may have been tied by the burgesses, Brother, but what about the Sheriff? Why does he not act?’
‘He is in London, explaining to the King why our shire is so expensive to run,’ replied Michael. ‘Constable Muschett is in charge – a man who would not challenge a goose. He openly admits that Gosse frightens him and that he has no intention of doing anything that might see him sued.’
‘Bastards,’ snarled Langelee suddenly, standing abruptly and stalking towards the hearth. He took a wild kick at the poker, which flew against the wall and ricocheted off, landing with a crash that made all the Fellows jump. The cat hurtled under the table in alarm.
‘My!’ drawled Thelnetham, wide-eyed. ‘Do we feel better now?’
‘No, we do not,’ snarled Langelee. ‘We shall feel better when we have broken his neck.’
‘Why would we … would you do that?’ asked Bartholomew uneasily, wondering what had precipitated the burst of temper. ‘You said Gosse was not the man who attacked you.’
‘No, but he has committed other crimes,’ said Langelee darkly. ‘And do not look at me like that, because I am not telling you anything about it. You will be angry. All of you will be angry.’
‘What has he done?’ demanded Michael. ‘If it is something to do with the College, we have a right to know. We will probably find out anyway – this is no place for keeping secrets.’
Langelee swallowed hard. It was a moment before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was choked with emotion. ‘Two days ago, I left the Stanton Cups in the hall by mistake – unattended. Someone stole them.’
His colleagues regarded him in horror. The Stanton Cups were a pair of beautiful silver-gilt chalices, bequeathed to Michaelhouse by its founder, Hervey de Stanton. They were normally kept in a locked chest in the Master’s room, but Langelee believed such treasures should be used regularly, for everyone to see and appreciate, so they were often out. It was an attitude Bartholomew applauded, although their loss was a serious blow.
‘They were taken from the hall?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Then why did no one see the thief? It is seldom empty. Students, Fellows or servants are always there.’