‘I do not want to talk about it,’ said Elyan, handing the cloth to the stall-owner, as if it no longer gave him pleasure. ‘Let us discuss something else instead. If you are from Cambridge, then you must be acquainted with Warden Powys and his colleague Paxtone. I have never met them, but my priest Neubold tells me they are fine, upstanding gentlemen.’
‘Then he is wrong,’ muttered d’Audley. ‘They are sly and dishonest, and I hate the lot of them.’
‘King’s Hall is trying to deprive him of his chantry,’ explained Agnys, when Bartholomew and Michael exchanged puzzled glances. ‘But they have always dealt decently with us.’
‘D’Audley’s bad experiences derive from the fact that he uses Hilton to negotiate,’ added Elyan. ‘He should employ Neubold instead, because he is slippery. Hilton is far too honest.’
Agnys’s glower moved from d’Audley to her grandson. ‘I cannot believe you still deal with that vile man – not after he abandoned Joan, just to hare home and gloat over some transaction he had brought about. I want nothing more to do with him.’
‘I buy his legal skills,’ said Elyan. ‘That does not mean I like him. Indeed, I find him loathsome, but he is good at his job – unlike Hilton, whose integrity will see d’Audley lose his chantry.’
‘Neubold will not be more cunning than the University’s clerks,’ declared Agnys. ‘They will see through his amateur tricks in an instant. Hilton has a far better legal mind.’
‘I hope you are right,’ said d’Audley uneasily. ‘Because I would hate to lose the place.’
Bartholomew studied the chantry chapel. It was small and mean, and did not look like an asset worth fighting over. ‘Does it belong to an ancestor?’ he asked politely.
‘It was built by a fellow named Alneston,’ replied d’Audley, ‘which is why it is called the Alneston Chantry, I suppose. However, I can tell you nothing else about him, other than that he died years ago and bequeathed seven fields – the rent earned from them pays for the services of a priest to pray for his soul.’
‘A shilling,’ murmured Hilton. ‘I am paid a shilling for fifty masses a year. The rest goes–’
‘The rest goes towards the upkeep of the building,’ interrupted d’Audley, although it was obvious to anyone looking at it that the funds had been diverted – and for a considerable period of time. ‘It has been under the stewardship of my family for generations, and I refuse to let some grasping College reap the benefits … I mean, assume the responsibility.’
‘I have been looking through old deeds, to see whether King’s Hall has any right to challenge his possession,’ said Hilton to Bartholomew and Michael. ‘Unfortunately, many are missing, and it is difficult to tell who holds legal title to what.’
‘I hold legal title,’ stated d’Audley firmly. ‘And I have the documents to prove it.’
‘Unfortunately, you do not,’ said Hilton. ‘But the chantry ownership is of no interest to our visitors, and we are wrong to bore them with it.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Michael smoothly. ‘We find it fascinating. Our colleague Wynewyk mentioned none of this when he told us of his visits here.’
For the first time since arriving in Suffolk, Wynewyk’s name provoked a reaction other than a blank stare. D’Audley’s eyes widened, and he shut an uneasy glance towards Elyan, but his neighbour’s expression was bland, and Bartholomew could not tell if he was party to whatever had startled d’Audley.
‘Who is Wynewyk?’ asked Agnys.
‘No one,’ replied d’Audley with a brittle smile. ‘I have never heard of him.’
‘The day is wearing on,’ said Elyan, glancing up at the sky. He gave the impression that he was bored with the scholars from Cambridge, and their questions and remarks. ‘It is time I inspected my mine.’
Agnys sighed disapprovingly. ‘You visit that place far too often, Henry, and it is beginning to impinge on more important estate business. It is not–’
‘There is nothing more important,’ declared Elyan, springing lithely into his saddle. He patted his clothes into place. ‘Are you coming, grandmother? Or shall I allow d’Audley to escort you home?’
Neither Agnys nor their neighbour seemed very keen on that proposition. The old lady headed for her horse, while d’Audley suddenly developed an intense interest in worsted.
Gallantly, Hilton stepped forward to help Agnys mount, and, seeing the priest might be struggling for some time unless someone else lent a hand, Bartholomew went to join him. Sensing the presence of two men who were uneasy in its company, the horse began to misbehave. It snickered and pranced, and they might have been there all day, if Michael had not taken charge.
‘Hurry up, Hilton,’ ordered Elyan irritably. ‘I have need of your services today, because Neubold is nowhere to be found. Come with me to the mine, and we shall talk on the way.’
He spurred his horse forward, flicking his fingers as he did so, to indicate Hilton was to trot along at his side. Agnys followed more sedately. D’Audley abandoned the worsted and started to walk in the opposite direction, but found his path blocked by Michael.
‘Tell me about Wynewyk,’ said the monk pleasantly. ‘Your reaction to his name made it obvious you do know him, so please do not claim otherwise. Could it be connected to timber, at all?’
‘Timber?’ echoed d’Audley in a squeak. ‘Why should I know him in connection with timber?’
‘Because he bought some from you. It cost him seven marks, although our woodsheds remain curiously empty.’
‘Do they?’ D’Audley swallowed uneasily. ‘I cannot imagine why you should think–’
‘My colleague and I have come to reclaim the money, so how will you pay? Cash or jewels?’
‘I am not paying anything,’ declared d’Audley, alarmed. ‘I cannot imagine why Wynewyk said he gave me seven marks, for he did no such thing. You cannot prove otherwise, so leave me be.’
He spun on his heel and attempted to stalk away, but found his path blocked by Bartholomew.
‘How long have you known Wynewyk?’ the physician asked quietly.
D’Audley sighed angrily when he saw there was no escape – and that the scholars were not going to be fobbed off with lies. ‘Since the summer. He visited Withersfield, too, although why he sullied his feet by going there is beyond my understanding.’
‘Why did Luneday deny knowing him, then?’ demanded Michael.
‘Probably because the man cannot open his mouth without lying,’ spat d’Audley. ‘He is a murderous villain, who should be hanged for what he did to poor Joan.’
‘And what about Elyan?’ asked Michael, more interested in Michaelhouse’s money than d’Audley’s wild theories. ‘Why did he leave so suddenly when we mentioned Wynewyk’s name?’
‘He did not leave suddenly – he is just a busy man,’ replied d’Audley. ‘But Wynewyk did not give us money for timber, coal or anything else. And I am a busy man, too, so you must excuse–’
‘How do you know coal is one of the commodities Wynewyk purchased?’ pounced Michael.
D’Audley swallowed uneasily, and he looked furtive. ‘It was a guess. Coal is one of Haverhill’s most lucrative exports.’
‘It is not,’ retorted Michael. ‘Elyan sells a small amount locally, but his mine has not yet started producing. So you are not being entirely truthful with us, and–’
He turned quickly at a sudden commotion at the far end of the market. Hilton was running towards the Alneston Chantry, where a crowd had gathered. Gatekeeper Folyat was busily darting here and there, whispering in people’s ears. When he saw d’Audley with Bartholomew and Michael, Folyat raced towards them.