Bartholomew edged away from the storeroom when he heard Stanmore begin an argument with de Belem, first about the price and then about which cloth was best for the purpose. De Belem was becoming exasperated with his late customers and Bartholomew knew he would not tolerate them much longer. He had a sudden fear that they would not be able to distract him long enough for Cynric to conduct his search of the house, or worse, that Cynric would still be inside when they left.
Taking a hasty decision, he ran back across the courtyard to the house and began to climb up some large crates that were piled up against the outside wall. The house was not as well built at the back as it was in the front, and he was able to climb higher on ill-fitting timbers that jutted from the plaster. He made his way towards the lighted window, wincing as his feet slipped and scraped against the wall. Grasping the window-sill, he hauled himself up and peered through the open window just as Janetta of Lincoln looked out to see what had made the noise.
For a second, they regarded each other in silence, and then Janetta tipped her head back and yelled as loudly as she could. Someone who had been sitting with his back to the window leapt to his feet and spun around, and Bartholomew had his second shock as he recognised the missing Evrard Buckley. Bartholomew heard a shout from the storeroom and glanced back to see de Belem race out, pulling the door closed behind him. Something crashed against it from the other side just as de Belem got a stout bar into place.
De Belem saw Bartholomew and began to run towards him. Bartholomew cursed in frustration. How had Michael and Stanmore managed to let de Belem lock them in the storeroom? Janetta tried to prise his fingers from the window-frame, and at the same time, he felt de Belem make a grab for his feet.
'Michael!' he yelled, kicking out so hard he almost dislodged himself from the wall. Janetta picked up a heavy jug from the table and began clumsily to swing it at Bartholomew's head. As Bartholomew ducked, and tried to keep his feet out of de Belem's reach, he was vaguely aware of Buckley grabbing something from the bed. He heard a small whimper and knew Buckley had Tulyet's baby. Janetta gave a yell of anger and hurled the jug at Bartholomew, spinning round to follow Buckley to the door. Even as Buckley reached for the lock, the door flew open, and Cynric stood there, breathing hard.
'Cynric! The baby!' Bartholomew gasped.
De Belem had a good grip on Bartholomew's leg and was pulling with all his might, and Bartholomew found he could hold on no longer. As his fingers began to slip, he saw Janetta and Cynric engaged in their own furious struggle. And then he finally lost his grip on the window-sill, and was tumbling through the air.
His fall was broken by de Belem. For a moment, they both lay dazed until Janetta cried out, They have the baby!'
Abandoning Bartholomew, de Belem struggled to his feet and began to run towards the door of the house.
Bartholomew dived after him and, grabbing him around the knees, brought him down again. De Belem twisted onto his back and lashed out, catching Bartholomew hard on the side of the head with his clenched fist.
Stunned, Bartholomew released him, and heard de Belem scramble away. Vaguely he heard Stanmore and Michael shouting in the storeroom and de Belem yelling orders. He tried to stand to release Michael and Stanmore, but he was dizzy, and his legs would not hold him up.
The clatter of hooves brought him to his senses, and he saw horses being taken from the stable. He pulled himself into a sitting position and saw de Belem haul open the gates, leap onto a horse, and urge it into the street.
Janetta followed and Bartholomew heard the thudding of hooves fading away. Someone slumped down beside him, and Bartholomew saw it was Buckley, awkwardly holding Tulyet's baby.
'Thank God!' Buckley said unsteadily. As Bartholomew took the baby from him, he saw the Vice-Chancellor's gloved hands were tied in front of him. "I thought it would never end.'
Bartholomew turned his attention to the baby. It was feverish, but alive. He suspected it had not been given enough to drink and it was weak. That probably explained why it had not been heard crying. It was dirty too. He felt it carefully to ascertain that it was not more seriously hurt, while Cynric emerged from the house unsteadily and made his way to the storeroom. He heaved the bar up, and Michael and Stanmore exploded into the yard, looking about them.
'Master Buckley!' exclaimed Michael, hurrying across to them. 'And you have the baby!'
Cynric took a knife and sawed through the ropes on Buckley's hands.
'He had my cloth!' shouted Stanmore, beside himself with anger. 'Those were no random attacks on my cart.
It was de Belem! He must have wanted to discourage me from sending cloth elsewhere to be dyed, and so he arranged to steal it from my carts! He must have killed Will, too!'
'To buy more time, I pretended to stumble and knock some bales down,' explained Michael. 'Hidden behind them was Oswald's stolen cloth. While we were witless with surprise, he dashed out and locked us in.'
'They have fled,' said Bartholomew, his voice jangling in his aching head. 'They took horses and left.'
Stanmore looked at the open gates. 'We might still catch them,' he said. 'Michael, Cynric! Help me with the horses!'
As they ran from the yard, Bartholomew turned to Buckley.
'Are you hurt?' he asked.
Buckley shook his head, his face grey with strain. 'They cut my arm when they came for me in the middle of the night. But that is healing. And they took my medicine.
But that was perhaps as well since I did not want to sleep too deeply with de Belem and that woman prowling around. And there was that poor whimpering child that needed me.'
So that explained the blood they had seen on the ground outside his window at King's Hall. 'What happened?'
Bartholomew asked.
'A noise awoke me one night, and the next thing I knew was that de Belem was in my room with some of his hired thugs. They made me climb out of the window and wait in a cart while they took everything from my room. I later assumed he meant he wanted it to look as if I had done something dreadful and fled with all my belongings.'
The baby gave a strangled cry, and Bartholomew rocked it.
Buckley swallowed hard. 'Will the child live? I have been trying to look after him, but he was becoming weaker. They told me he is Richard Tulyet's child, and that Tulyet would never come to rescue me as long as the baby was here. They were going to kill him if Tulyet so much as set foot in the yard.' "I think he will recover once he is fed properly. Is there anything you can tell us that might help us catch de Belem and Janetta?' Bartholomew asked.
Buckley shook his head slowly. 'Only that the woman is here rarely, and that de Belem's men are mercenaries who are beginning to waver in their loyalties. I heard a savage argument last night between de Belem and one of the sergeants. Some have already gone. He had about thirty, half were garrisoned in Primrose Alley and half are elsewhere. Of the ones in Primrose Alley, he probably has fewer than five left. There are other things, too, but they are supposition, and I have little to substantiate them.'
He continued talking quickly, while Bartholomew listened, pieces of the puzzle falling into place with the scraps of information he had already gathered. He was still sitting on the ground, holding the baby, and listening to Buckley, when Michael and Stanmore returned with Cynric and two of Stanmore's men, all mounted and armed. Behind Cynric were Rachel Atkin and Sybilla.