‘Cynric is right,’ said Michael, when he had finished. ‘We do need to excavate this grave. If it is not Kelyng’s, then it can be refilled, and that will be the end of the matter. But if it is him…’
‘Then we shall have yet another mystery to solve.’
Michael nodded soberly. ‘Kelyng was Wynewyk’s student, and Cynric is correct in saying that he was handy with a weapon. Wynewyk was not, and it makes sense that he should have hired himself a bodyguard. Kelyng would have been the obvious choice.’
Bartholomew was sceptical. ‘Then why was Wynewyk so concerned when Kelyng failed to arrive at the beginning of term? We all assumed Kelyng had fled his debts, so why did Wynewyk keep worrying after him – if you are right, and he did drag the lad to an early death here, then surely it would have been better never to mention him again? Your theory makes no sense!’
‘It does, if he “worried” as a sort of smokescreen. It means we would not look to him should Kelyng’s body ever be found – he could say he was the one who was anxious, while the rest of us dismissed the lad as a debtor. It is callous, but we are talking about a man who cheats his friends here.’
‘Wynewyk had nothing to do with Kelyng’s death because–’
‘I applaud your loyalty, Matt,’ interrupted Michael harshly. ‘I really do. But it is beginning to fly in the face of reason.’
‘Actually, Brother, I was going to say that Wynewyk had nothing to do with Kelyng’s death, because of something Hilton told us earlier. He said there is a rumour that Carbo had killed a man by the mine, although he did not believe it. Well, perhaps the tale is true, and the victim was Kelyng.’
Michael raised his hands in the air. ‘We are getting ahead of ourselves here – it is foolish to speculate who knew what about Kelyng’s demise when we cannot even be sure if he is dead. Let us review what we do know, and see what headway we have made.’
Bartholomew took a deep breath and tipped back his head, looking up at the sky. It was iron grey, and he wondered whether it would rain again. He hoped not, because it would make digging unpleasant, especially as Cynric had neglected to bring him a change of clothes.
‘Neubold went to Cambridge to do business with King’s Hall,’ he said, trying to do as Michael suggested. ‘He took Joan with him, and Carbo must have followed on their heels – we do not know why, but he was ill, so perhaps he simply chased after two familiar faces.’
‘That sounds plausible,’ said Michael. ‘Then what?’
‘Then the three of them died – Joan of pennyroyal, Carbo of being stabbed by Shropham, and Neubold of hanging. And Wynewyk … I am still not sure what caused his demise. However, all four deaths are associated with coaclass="underline" Joan’s husband has a mine, Neubold was selling the stuff to King’s Hall, Carbo was obsessed by it, and Wynewyk bought some for Michaelhouse.’
Michael began to list other points on his fat fingers.
‘Meanwhile, we have two lords of the manor with ample reasons for wanting a third one dead; we have a wife under pressure to produce an heir; we have King’s Hall determined to inherit a distant manor; and we are nowhere near the truth regarding Michaelhouse’s missing money.’
Bartholomew glanced at his friend, and saw that despite his discouraging words, the monk’s eyes gleamed in the way they always did when faced with an intricate mystery. The physician did not feel the same way at all, and was beginning to dread where their enquiries might lead them.
‘I hope we do not learn that King’s Hall has done something untoward to get this manor,’ he said uneasily. ‘I like Warden Powys, and would hate to see him fall from grace.’
Michael made a disgusted sound. ‘Powys was hand-picked by the King himself, and such men do not “fall from grace”. They might have mysterious accidents or take early retirement, but they certainly do not do anything that might suggest His Majesty made an unwise choice.’
Bartholomew regarded him in horror. ‘If unravelling this mess might result in another murder, then I am stopping right now. Powys is a–’
‘Powys is unlikely to be doing anything without royal approval,’ interrupted Michael. ‘So I very much doubt he will come to any harm. However, the same cannot be said for us – we have been attacked once already, and I want to finish our enquiries and go home as soon as possible. It is too late today, and you have a grave to despoil anyway, but we will be gone at first light tomorrow. I am not missing Monday’s Blood Relic debate for anyone.’
‘I had forgotten about that,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Somehow, an academic gathering pales into insignificance when compared to Wynewyk, Kelyng and whether we can leave Suffolk alive.’
Michael grinned. ‘We shall outwit these clumsy assassins, never fear. Better yet, we may uncover evidence to strengthen King’s Hall’s claim, which will put Powys – and the King – in our debt.’
‘Christ,’ muttered Bartholomew, not liking the fact that the stakes had risen so high. ‘But here come Cynric and the students. They can visit Elyan’s mine while we inspect Neubold; as I said, coal features large in our investigation, so we should try to learn more about Elyan’s lode.’
Cynric and Valence did not mind being asked to explore, but Risleye and Tesdale were much less enthusiastic. Risleye said he did not like the look of the weather, while Tesdale was appalled by the notion of doing anything as strenuous as a walk followed by a loiter in the woods.
‘It is a long way,’ he complained pitifully. ‘And I am very tired.’
Valence punched him playfully. ‘It will be fun to visit a mine – I have never seen one before.’
‘I have,’ said Risleye sullenly. ‘They are nasty, dirty, dangerous places, especially in the rain.’
Valence raised arch eyebrows. ‘Will you let a bit of drizzle prevent you from seeing patients when you are qualified? You will ignore their summons, lest you get wet?’
‘That will depend on what they agree to pay me,’ replied Risleye, quite seriously. He smiled at Bartholomew. ‘Are you offering to recompense me for this jaunt? That will put a different complexion on matters. I will go anywhere for silver!’
‘Well, I will not,’ said Tesdale miserably. ‘I had a bad dream about a mine last night.’
‘In that case, you can find out whether there is an apothecary in Haverhill,’ said Bartholomew, reluctant to exacerbate the lad’s nightmares. ‘If there is, ask who has bought pennyroyal oil recently.’
‘Pennyroyal oil?’ asked Tesdale, startled. ‘Do you think Joan was killed with supplies purchased in Suffolk, then? I assumed she came by hers in Cambridge.’
‘Well, if she did, then it was not from Doctor Bartholomew’s storeroom,’ said Valence. ‘Because Deynman has already confessed to borrowing that.’
‘This is grossly unfair!’ cried Risleye, when Cynric indicated he was ready to go. ‘Tesdale does not have to traipse up to this wretched colliery, so why do I?’
‘Because Doctor Bartholomew has asked you to,’ said Valence virtuously. ‘Do not glower so! We shall be back long before it rains.’
The Upper Church comprised a nave with an apsidal end and two flanking aisles. It was ancient, built in the sturdy manner of the Normans, and reminded Bartholomew of the abbey at Peterborough, where he had gone to school. There was a low tower, decorated with blind arcading, and its thick walls were pierced at regular intervals by roundheaded windows. Inside the church, every available surface had been daubed with energetic murals. The result was disquieting, especially when the statues were taken into account: they had been provided with the most vivid colours imaginable for their robes, and Bartholomew had never seen so many intense blue eyes.
As he and Michael walked towards the north aisle, where Neubold had been deposited, they found Hilton ushering the last of his inquisitive parishioners away, leaning forward to rest a hand on their heads in blessing as they went. When he thought he was alone, he crossed himself, muttered a very brief prayer and headed for the door.