‘But they are your most senior students.’ said Michael. ‘Who will mind the others?’
‘Deynman. He is quite capable of keeping a class in order, and Clippesby has offered to do the reading. It will do them good to spend a few days re-hearing some basic texts.’
‘It is a bad time for me to leave,’ said Michael, more interested in his own concerns. ‘I still do not know who attacked Langelee. I have failed to discover who took your pennyroyal, although Risleye assures me it was a servant. The Stanton Cups remain missing. And Bene’t College was burgled last night – Gosse, most likely, although I cannot prove it. Again.’
‘We will not be gone long, Brother. Three days at the most.’
‘Moreover, King’s Hall is not happy about me keeping Shropham in gaol,’ Michael went on, declining to be appeased. ‘But what else can I do? I can hardly release him, when he will not speak to defend himself. What message would that send to criminals?’
‘Yolande said she saw Carbo talking to three King’s Hall men on the High Street.’ Bartholomew hesitated before adding, ‘She said Wynewyk was with them.’
Michael gazed at him. ‘What do you think that means?’
‘That King’s Hall is keeping something from you – something relating to why Shropham killed Carbo. However, Wynewyk had taken to socialising with Paxtone and Warden Powys in the last few weeks, so I do not think his presence at this gathering was significant.’
‘He cheated his College in the last few weeks, too,’ Michael pointed out. ‘Do not be too ready to dismiss the facts, Matt. But this means I should visit King’s Hall today. I understand Shropham lying – felons do that when they are in a tight corner – but it is unacceptable for his colleagues to indulge their penchant for fabrication at such a time.’
‘Perhaps you should wait. Your various investigations – Carbo’s murder, Wynewyk’s business, and even Joan’s death – have links to Suffolk. Our journey there may provide answers, and it would be a pity to have made accusatory remarks to members of a rival foundation if it transpires to be unnecessary: King’s Hall’s association with Carbo may be innocent.’
Michael did not look as though he thought it would, but he accepted the physician’s point about acquiring ammunition. ‘Carbo is puzzling. I find it strange that he should know two people – Joan and Wynewyk – who are both suddenly dead. And that he is Gosse’s lawman.’
‘Coal,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘Wynewyk bought some we never saw; Carbo had a piece sewn in his habit; Joan’s husband sells it; and it was discussed by Carbo, the King’s Hall men and Wynewyk before any of them were dead. Coal is a clue, I am sure of it. And this coal is supposed to come from Haverhill. It is something else we must investigate while we are there.’
When they reached the College, Michael waited like a vulture for Cynric to ring the breakfast bell, and Bartholomew went to talk to his students. They had gathered outside the hall, jostling Deynman and some theologians and clearly intent on being the first in. He wondered why they always felt compelled to race, when meals never started until everyone was standing at his place anyway.
His announcement that he would be away for a few days was met with a variety of reactions. The more studious lads were disappointed, the lazy ones looked relieved, Risleye was angry that he had paid for teaching that would now not be given, and Tesdale was concerned.
‘It is a long and dangerous journey,’ he said. ‘You may not come back, and then what will happen to us? Paxtone will not accept us, because he might think we are all like Risleye, while Rougham is too sharp and impatient a master for my taste.’
‘You are coming with me,’ said Bartholomew, a little dismayed that Tesdale should see his demise only in terms of the inconvenience to himself; he had thought his students liked him. ‘So is Risleye–’
‘Me?’ cried Tesdale in dismay. ‘I cannot go! I do not want to!’
‘More importantly, neither can I,’ declared Risleye self-importantly. ‘I do not like travelling.’
Bartholomew was taken aback by their responses, recalling that his master had dragged him as far as Greece and Africa when he had been a student. Suffolk was hardly in the same league.
‘You are coming,’ he said in the tone of voice that made it clear it was not a matter for debate. ‘So is Valence. And the rest of you will learn–’
‘Really?’ interrupted Valence, his face alight with pleasure. ‘When do we leave? Is there time for me to say goodbye to my grandfather? Shall I pack a medicine bag, like the one you carry? You never know when additional supplies might come in useful. Can I borrow your spare cloak, Risleye?’
‘I suppose,’ replied Risleye unenthusiastically. ‘But what about your classes, sir? Who will teach the others, if we three senior students are kicking our heels in some Godforsaken village?’
‘I will,’ offered Deynman eagerly. ‘I was a physician-in-training before I abandoned medicine in favour of librarianship, so I know what needs to be done. I shall ensure they stay at their studies.’
Bartholomew grabbed his arm and pulled him to one side, so the others would not hear. ‘I understand you still demand access to my storeroom. Why?’
Deynman looked annoyed. ‘Did Tesdale tell you that? The little rat! He said he would keep it to himself if I gave him a shilling. I shall demand the money back, since he reneged.’
‘Never mind that. Tell me what you wanted in there.’
‘Pennyroyal,’ confessed Deynman reluctantly. ‘Cynric told me it puts a lovely shine on metal, and I wanted to polish the hasps on my books. Of course, he was wrong.’
Bartholomew frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your useless pennyroyal did nothing for my hasps. However, I did not take much, because there was not much left, and I did not think you would mind, as you know I will replace it. I would have bought my own, but the apothecary said there was a sudden demand for it, and he ran out. But I am to return there on Monday, when your supply will be replenished in full.’
‘Why did you not tell me all this when I first asked?’ Bartholomew distinctly recalled Deynman being with his students the morning he had noticed its disappearance.
Deynman’s expression was sheepish. ‘I was going to, but you looked so irked that I decided to wait for a better moment. You were furious when Valence borrowed ingredients to make that book explode, and I did not want you to rail at me like you hollered at him.’
He grinned happily, clearly thinking the explanation was enough to see him forgiven. And he was right: the physician was too relieved to be angry. He ordered him not to do it again, although the Librarian was not very good at remembering instructions and was sure to forget. It made Bartholomew all the more determined to improve security in the future. He turned his mind back to his students and teaching.
‘Here are the texts I want my students to have heard by the time I return,’ he said, handing Deynman an unreasonably ambitious schedule. ‘Clippesby has volunteered to read them aloud.’
Deynman scanned the list. ‘I have most of these in my library, and the rest I can borrow from King’s Hall. Do not worry: your pupils will be safe with me – and with Clippesby.’
Bartholomew hoped so, and decided to ask Wynewyk to keep an eye on them as well. He experienced a sharp pang of grief when he realised that would not be possible.
He saw Valence standing alone and went to speak to him, keen to think about something else. ‘I understand you saw Gosse lob a stone at my sister,’ he said.
‘Mud, not a stone,’ corrected Valence. ‘And she ordered me not to tell you, because she said you would be upset. I went with her to see Constable Muschett afterwards, but he said my testimony was inadmissible – that I would lie to get Gosse into trouble because he stole our Stanton Cups.’