Michael rubbed his hands. ‘Excellent! I could not have hoped for a better way to persuade that sly Oxford rat to sign my deed.’
‘Really, Brother,’ said Bartholomew mildly. ‘I did not expect you to stoop so low. I thought you were anticipating a battle of wits with one of Oxford’s greatest thinkers, not that you would resort to blackmail because he is fond of a barrel of wine and enjoys the company of women.’
‘If I were not investigating four murders, I would concur,’ said Michael pompously. ‘But blackmail will be a good deal quicker, and I shall be assured of a favourable result. It may not be necessary anyway. If Heytesbury agrees to sign my deed on Sunday, I will not need to mention dalliances with nuns or frequent visits to taverns. But there is something else I want to know, since you are in a mood to talk, Richard: what is Tysilia’s role in all this?’
Richard’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Tysilia? None. Why do you ask?’
‘But you know her,’ said Bartholomew. ‘You met her in Bedford, and you travelled in the same party to Cambridge.’
Richard shook his head in disbelief. ‘Nothing escapes the notice of you two, does it? But what of it? I cannot see that my brief dalliance with Tysilia is any of your affair.’
‘You allowed that whore to seduce you?’ asked Stanmore in horror. ‘You could not resist her vile charms? I expected more of you, Richard. I credited you with good taste.’
‘I saw no reason to resist her,’ said Richard sullenly. ‘I only took what was freely offered.’
‘Like that pendant she stole from Mistress Horner?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘I saw you with it this morning.’
‘This?’ asked Richard, pulling the gold locket and its chain from his scrip. ‘This is not stolen.’
‘It belonged to a convent guest, and Tysilia took it,’ said Bartholomew. He snatched it from his nephew and put it in his own scrip, determined that Matilde should have it back.
‘But it was given to me,’ said Richard indignantly.
‘By whom?’ demanded Bartholomew. ‘And why?
‘Tell him, Richard,’ said Stanmore wearily. ‘I am sure there is a good reason why you happen to have this thing.’
Richard said irritably, ‘I did not know it was stolen. Tysilia told me her uncle had passed it to her.’
‘Why did she give it to you?’ asked Michael. ‘I thought she would have demanded payment from you, not the other way around.’
Richard swallowed. ‘Because I was going to help her escape. She does not like St Radegund’s; she finds it too restrictive.’
‘Lord help us!’ muttered Stanmore, regarding his son in disgust. ‘You are a foolish boy, although not, I think, a dishonest one. How could you even think of embroiling yourself in a plan to free that whore? What do you think Bishop de Lisle would say when he learned that you helped spirit his niece away from her protectors?’
‘He might be grateful to be rid of her,’ muttered Michael. ‘She is more trouble than she is worth.’
Stanmore stood and loomed over his son. ‘I have been tolerant of your idiosyncrasies since you returned, Richard, but I am rapidly losing patience. You will abandon this life of debauchery, and you will remove Heytesbury from my household by Sunday – as soon as his lecture is over. And then perhaps we can begin to forgive and forget.’
Richard stared at the floor, and Bartholomew could not tell whether he intended to follow his father’s orders or whether he would revert to his old ways as soon as Stanmore’s back was turned.
‘And that ear-ring will go, too,’ added Stanmore as an afterthought.
Without looking up, Richard slowly removed the offending jewellery from his lobe. He drank more water, then claimed he was tired and asked that he be allowed to rest. He closed his eyes, and Bartholomew imagined he could already see a hardening of the youthful features, indicating he was unwilling to give up his pleasantly debauched lifestyle in Heytesbury’s company. Perhaps both of them would return to Oxford together.
Bartholomew stayed with Richard a little longer, then followed a chuckling Michael down the stairs and across the courtyard to the road outside. Michael sniggered all the way up the High Street, although Bartholomew was not sure whether his amusement derived from the fact that Richard had been cut down to size or that he now had two very powerful weapons with which to bully Heytesbury into signing his document.
‘Here we are at the Franciscan Friary,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Now we will find out whether Paul is hiding Simon Lynne, as you believe.’
‘And, if he is, we shall have some answers at long last,’ said Michael, rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation.
Chapter 11
BARTHOLOMEW AND MICHAEL REACHED THE FRANCISCAN Friary just as the first gloom of dusk was approaching, and were startled to find its normally sedate atmosphere shattered, with grey-robed friars running here and there in panic. Warden Pechem stood in the middle of it, his hand swathed in the bandage Bartholomew had tied, as he answered questions put by Brother Timothy. Pechem was shivering, and Bartholomew noticed he was not wearing his cloak, as though he had been dragged from his warm quarters too suddenly to allow him to grab it.
Standing to one side was Clippesby, his eyes so wild that the white parts gleamed peculiarly against the black of his Dominican habit. His hair jutted in all directions, so that he looked even more eccentric than usual. Bartholomew saw that his robe was dirty, as if he had been rolling in mud.
‘What is the matter?’ asked Bartholomew, watching Clippesby twist one of his sleeves so hard that he threatened to do it permanent damage. ‘All this has nothing to do with you, does it?’
‘No!’ wailed Clippesby, his voice loud enough to draw the hostile attention of several Franciscans. ‘If they had listened to me, this would not have happened.’
‘I warned you to stay away from the Franciscans,’ said Michael angrily. ‘You know they do not like Dominicans on their property.’
‘But I wanted to see Father Paul,’ howled Clippesby. ‘He is the only person in this town who is not short of a few wits. I have a right to sane conversation if I want it.’
‘Lord save us,’ muttered Michael. ‘If the likes of him are demanding sane discussions, what does that say about the rest of the University?’
‘What is going on?’ asked Bartholomew of Clippesby a second time. ‘What has caused this disturbance?’
‘You will get no sense out of him,’ said Michael, giving Clippesby a disparaging glance as he took Bartholomew’s arm and pulled him away. ‘Timothy will tell us what is happening.’
‘Another robbery,’ explained Timothy as they approached. ‘And it happened just moments ago.’
‘We were lucky Brother Timothy happened to be passing when it occurred,’ said Pechem unsteadily. ‘He and Brother Janius gave chase, but the culprits disappeared into the scrub-land that leads to the Barnwell Causeway.’
‘We did our best,’ said Timothy apologetically to Michael. ‘But they were too fast for us.’
‘Was anyone able to identify the thieves?’ asked Michael. ‘Who were they?’
‘We do not know,’ said Pechem. ‘But they were brazen. Two men just joined the end of our procession as we walked home from the church after vespers. Everyone assumed they were the guests of someone else, and no one questioned their right to be inside.’
‘I did,’ shouted Clippesby, coming to join them. ‘I told you they were not Franciscans, but no one took any notice of me.’
‘They did worse than not listen to him,’ explained Timothy to Michael. ‘They ejected him from their premises, because they thought his warnings were the ramblings of a madman.’