‘He was here because of an injury?’ probed Michael encouragingly.
John nodded. ‘He was deeply insensible when his brother brought him here, and none of us expected him to live. To the surprise of all, he did. He stayed with us for several months, regaining the use of his limbs and his speech, but his mind was . . . changed.’
‘The folk in Haverhill believe the death of his mother unhinged him.’
John frowned. ‘She died several weeks after he was injured, and it was a bitter blow to him. But he was already “unhinged”, as you put it.’
‘Do you know how he came by this wound?’
John stared at the monk for several moments. ‘Not for sure.’
‘But you have your suspicions,’ surmised Michael. ‘Will you share them with me?’
John considered for a moment. ‘Let me give you the facts first. Neubold brought Carbo to us in the dead of night, then left without waiting to hear our physician’s diagnosis. It was clear he expected his brother to die without regaining his senses. He came back a week later with money for a burial, and was deeply shocked when I told him Carbo was still alive.’
‘You think he hit Carbo over the head? That he tried to kill his brother?’
John hesitated, but then relented. ‘Yes, I do. And then I think he experienced a surge of guilt, which he allayed by bringing his victim here. His relief when I told him Carbo had no memory of what had happened – and would never regain his full faculties – was palpable.’
‘Do you know why he attacked Carbo?’
‘Their mother told me of a vicious argument the night Carbo “went missing”. Apparently, Carbo was appalled by Neubold’s escalating corruption, and threatened to report him to the Dominican Prior General. I can only assume Neubold decided that was not going to happen. He took Carbo away from us as soon as he could, saying he would look after him. I doubt he did.’
Michael thought about Hilton’s tale of Carbo wandering around half-starved, with no proper home. ‘Why did you not stop Neubold? And why not tell someone of your suspicions?’
‘Because that is what they are – suspicions. I have no evidence. And Neubold was a cunning lawyer, who would have inveigled his way out of any unsupported charges – and probably would have sued me for slander into the bargain. And we would rather spend our money on the poor.’
‘Can you tell me anything else about Carbo?’
‘Not really. About a year after Neubold took him away, I heard he tried to join the Dominicans. I cannot help but wonder whether memories of what had happened were beginning to resurface, and he had devised some wild plan to bring his brother to book from within the Order.’
‘Do you think he was capable of developing and following through such a complex strategy?’
John shrugged. ‘Look at his most recent actions – the ones you have outlined to me. He appeared in Cambridge at the same time as Neubold, even though Clare is the farthest he had ever travelled before his injury. He stole Hilton’s spare habit, which was intelligent – he had no money and neglect had rendered him painfully thin; people were going to take pity on a skeletal friar and give him alms. It seems to me there was method in his madness.’
‘And then someone stabbed him,’ said Michael heavily.
‘Perhaps you should ascertain where Neubold was on the night of his brother’s murder,’ said John, meeting the monk’s eyes. ‘Because if Carbo really was regaining his lost memories, then Neubold almost certainly would not have liked it. The man you have in custody may be innocent.’
Michael grimaced. ‘I am sure of it, but he will not speak to me.’
‘Of course, Neubold is not my only suspect,’ began John tentatively. ‘There is a rumour…’
‘Yes?’ asked Michael encouragingly, when the Prior faltered.
‘I do not know if it is true, which is why I hesitate to mention it. There is a tale that Carbo stole a sack of property from an infamous Clare felon named Osa Gosse.’
‘I know – Hilton told me. And Gosse is in Cambridge at the moment, burgling my University.’
John raised his eyebrows. ‘I wondered where he had gone. Anyway, when this sack went missing, Gosse was said to be furious. So, Brother, there is another man who may have meant Carbo harm.’
Michael accepted the cloak John pressed on him, then went in search of Agnys. She was waiting in the priory gardens, walking slowly as she savoured the peace and the beauty of the place. Fallen leaves formed a bright carpet of yellow and orange under her feet, and she was gazing up at a mighty elm, where a family of sparrows was twittering.
‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ said Michael, smiling at her. ‘It was very helpful. Now, what else did you want to show me?’
Agnys led the way along a riverside path. There was a bench under one of the trees, and a woman sat there, reading a book. Her hair was neatly bound under a coif, and she carried herself with a light grace that said she was a woman of breeding. Agnys retreated tactfully, leaving them alone.
‘Matilde!’ Michael managed to gasp, once he had recovered from his shock.
‘Brother,’ she replied, with the enigmatic smile he recalled so well. ‘How are you?’
‘I am well, but where have you been these past two and a half years?’ Michael had so many questions, he barely knew where to begin. ‘Did you not know that Matt has been scouring the civilised world for you?’
‘Not until Agnys told me. The news I heard was that he had taken a sabbatical leave of absence, to visit the universities in Montpellier and Salerno.’
‘He spent that time trying to learn where you had gone,’ said Michael, trying to keep the reproach from his voice, but not succeeding. ‘The tale about Salerno and Montpellier was one invented by me, to ensure he did not lose his University post if his hunt was unsuccessful – you may remember that scholars are not supposed to hare off after women.’
‘Of course I remember,’ said Matilde sadly. ‘It made it difficult for Matt and me to be close.’
Michael looked into her face. She was pale, but still as lovely as ever. ‘Langelee and Suttone think you fell prey to highway robbers, although Matt refuses to believe it.’
She winced. ‘My original plan was to go to Norwich, but the roads proved too dangerous for a lone woman, so I decided to come here instead. I have friends in Clare, and they have been kind.’
‘Matt will be delighted to hear you–’
‘No,’ said Matilde, lifting her hand to touch his lips. ‘You cannot tell him I am here.’
‘But he wants to marry you. He was going to ask you the morning you disappeared.’
‘I did not know that.’ Matilde turned away, so he could not see her face.
Michael grabbed her arm, and forced her to look at him. ‘Well, you do now. Come with me to see him – today. It will grieve me to lose my Corpse Examiner, but his happiness will be worth it.’
‘And that is why I cannot come,’ said Matilde. There were tears in her eyes and her voice was unsteady. ‘Matt will have to resign his Fellowship to wed me. He will not be able to teach, and he will be forced to take paying patients. And then what will happen to the Frail Sisters?’
‘They will manage, and so will he. Besides, I suspect you are hardly poor.’
‘On the contrary, I own nothing at all – you see, I was robbed as I travelled from Cambridge, and my attackers took everything. I am lucky my friends are charitable, or I would have starved.’
‘Matt is used to having no money,’ persisted Michael doggedly. ‘He will not care.’
‘But I will. His old patients will not accept that he needs to make a living, and they will expect him to continue to see them free of charge – and to provide their expensive medicines into the bargain. It will break his heart to refuse them.’