Michael looked disappointed, but nodded his agreement.
The landlord hurried away to do his bidding.
Bartholomew was surprised that the monk would break the University's rules so flagrantly. 'From that, I assume this is not your first visit?'
Michael beamed and led him over to a table under some trees where they were at least sheltered from the wind, if not the rain. De Belem slipped through the door, latching it carefully behind him.
"I am sorry for the secrecy, but it is for your own safety.
I am a marked man, and it would do you no good to be seen with me,' he said, as he came to join them at the wet table.
'Marked by whom?' asked Bartholomew.
"I do not know,' he said, putting his elbows on the table and resting his face in his hands. 'But they have already killed my daughter.'
' How do you know that?' asked Bartholomew curiously.
De Belem raised his head. 'Allow me to explain. After my wife was taken by the Death, I lost my faith. Half the monks and priests in the land were taken, and I thought if God would not protect His own, why would He bother with me? I said as much to one of my colleagues, and a few days later I received an invitation to attend a meeting of the Guild of Purification. I did not know what it entailed, but I went because I was disillusioned and lonely. The Honourable Guild of Dyers was full of bickering because of a shift in the balance of power after the plague, and I felt I would have nothing to lose by joining another organisation.'
He paused and looked up into the swaying branches above. Bartholomew said nothing. Stanmore had already told him that de Belem was a member of the Guild of Purification.
The guild pays allegiance to Satan,' de Belem continued. 'You are scholars, so you know Lucifer's story. He was an angel and was cast out of Heaven.
His halo fell to his feet, and so our symbol is a circle — his fallen halo.'
Michael pursed his lips, and the three men were silent while the landlord brought the chicken and wine. De Belem huddled inside his hood. Discreetly, the landlord kept his eyes fixed on the food, and did not attempt to look at de Belem, leaving Bartholomew to wonder how many other such meetings Michael had conducted on his premises.
De Belem continued when the landlord had left. The religious, or,' he said, casting a rueful glance at Michael, ' the irreligious side of it held little appeal for me. But these people were united in a common bond of friendship and belief. It is difficult to explain, but I felt a fellowship with them that I had not felt since before the Death. I was even made the Grand Master.'
'You are the Grand Master of the Guild of Purification?' said Bartholomew, stunned. Michael looked at him with round, doleful eyes, as though he found the mere mention of satanic dealings offensive to his vocation.
"I was,' continued de Belem. 'Not now. In fact, I am no longer even a member, although it is too late to make a difference.'
He paused before continuing.
'I imagine you might think that someone from the Guild of Purification might have killed Frances, but I know that it is not so. Whatever you might believe about us, we do not kill or make sacrifices of living things. Like any other guilds, we join together for fellowship. The difference, perhaps, is that we speak as we feel, and have no priests to warn us of the fires of hell and to look ever for heresy.'
Bartholomew thought about the Franciscans at Michaelhouse, and their obsession with heresy, and did not wonder that some people were attracted to such an organisation. Michael appeared shocked.
De Belem continued. 'We met in disused churches, but did them no harm. The Guild of the Coming is perhaps a little more ritualistic than the Guild of Purification, but we do not kilclass="underline" the deaths of those women and Frances were nothing to do with us. Someone else is responsible.'
'Like who?' asked Michael.
'Like the fanatics in the Guild of the Holy Trinity,' said de Belem. 'They are always railing about how the Death was brought by sinners like prostitutes and greedy merchants.'
'What makes you think they killed Frances?' asked Bartholomew.
' Because I was sent a note telling me that Frances would be murdered because I was a member of a coven,' said de Belem in a whisper.
'Do you still have it?' asked Michael.
De Belem shook his head. 'It so distressed me, I threw it in the fire. I was foolish. If I had kept it, we might have been able to glean clues as to the identity of her killer.'
'But why did you not tell me of this note before?' asked Bartholomew. 'Such as when you asked me to investigate Frances's murder.'
De Belem closed his eyes. "I simply did not think of it until after you left. You must recall you had brought devastating news, and I was not thinking clearly/ 'Do you think notes were sent to the families of the other women?' asked Bartholomew. He had been assuming that the murders of the women were random killings, but de Belem's information suggested there might be a pattern to them. If there were a pattern, they might yet be able to solve the mystery.
"I do not know. Frances and Isobel were the only ones who meant something to me.'
Isobel?' said Michael, through a mouthful of chicken.
The whore?'
Bartholomew kicked him under the table. De Belem turned sad eyes on Michael. 'A whore, yes, if you would.
She came to my house twice every week and left before first light so Frances would not know. I should have insisted that she stayed until it was light that day.
Isobel's life should have been worth more to me than my reputation with a wild daughter.'
Bartholomew leaned his folded arms on the table and studied the wet wood, thinking about what de Belem had told them. He was saying that at least two of the murders had been attacks against the satanists, deliberate assassinations intended to strike at specific people. He thought back to what Stanmore had told him the night he had gone to Trumpington: that he thought Richard Tulyet the elder might be a member of the Guild of the Coming.
'Did you tell the Sheriff about the note you received?' he asked.
De Belem nodded. 'He said he would look into it, but of course he found nothing.'
'Will you tell us the names of the other members of the guild so we might question them?'
A faint smile crossed de Belem's face. "I cannot. It might put them at risk. The two guilds are innocent of the murders, and this maniac must be brought to justice. Tulyet is worthless, and you are my only hope of seeing Frances and Isobel avenged. If the guilds were the murderers, Frances and Isobel would be here now, and we would not be talking.'
The rain became heavier, and de Belem glanced up at the iron-grey clouds.
"I must go. I have been here too long already.' He stood slowly, rain dripping from his hair where it was not covered by his hood. He knelt quickly and awkwardly for Michael's benediction, slipped across the tiny garden, unlatched the gate, and was gone.
'Oh, Lord, Michael,' said Bartholomew, when the door had been closed again. 'Now what? Do you believe him?'
Michael, who had been sufficiently interested by de Belem's words to stop eating, wiped the grease from his mouth with his sleeve. 'His claims are possible,' he answered. "I am inclined to believe de Belem that his guild is not responsible. After all, he lost his daughter and his woman.'
'But who was in the orchard the night after Frances's murder?' asked Bartholomew.
Michael scratched his head. "It all makes little sense,' he said.
'Unless,' said Bartholomew, watching a bird swoop onto the table to peck up crumbs from Michael's food, 'de Belem speaks only for the Guild of Purification, of which he was a member. Oswald told me the two guilds were rivals. I think de Belem is underestimating the power of the Guild of the Coming, especially if the Tulyets are involved. I also think his grief might be influencing his reasoning. Perhaps he feels guilty that his loved ones have died because he is a satanist, and is trying to convince himself it is not his fault. If the Guild of the Holy Trinity is antagonistic enough towards satanism to murder, they would not be leaving satanic regalia on people's beds. I still believe the Guild of the Coming left the goat mask in Nicholas's coffin and the head for you.'