Bartholomew had started with Vale, because he happened to be the nearest. Deftly, he removed his colleague’s clothes, so he could look for injuries or suspicious marks, but there was only one: the puncture wound between his shoulder blades. The arrow’s shaft had been snipped off to facilitate transport the previous day, but its head was still in place, and he was surprised by how easy it was to remove. Puzzled, he took a probe and inserted it into the hole. The laceration was shallow, and unlikely to have been fatal.
He turned Vale on to his back, and pushed on his chest – if froth bubbled from the nose and mouth, it meant water had mixed with air in the lungs. In other words, the victim had drowned. But what seeped from Vale was clear, and there was not a bubble in sight. He began a more systematic examination, looking for evidence of disease or other injuries. There was an ancient scar on Vale’s knee, but nothing else was apparent.
Trying not to let his bafflement influence him, he moved to the next corpse, which was the older of the two London brothers. Again, there was no evidence of drowning. The younger sibling yielded an equally curious lack of symptoms, and so did Northwood.
When he had done all he could, Bartholomew replaced their clothes, then sat back on his heels and stared at the corpses in confusion. How had they died? Could they have swallowed poison? But then how had they all ended up in Newe Inn’s pond?
Absently, he took a knife from his bag, wondering whether anyone would notice if he made a small incision to inspect the inside of one of the victims’ stomachs. He had never done such a thing before, but he had witnessed a dissection in Salerno where a case of poisoning had been discovered by a mass of ulcers in the innards. There had been no external symptoms, and the killer might have escaped justice had it not been for the skill of the anatomist.
But defiling the dead was frowned upon in England, although Bartholomew considered it a foolish restriction, because much could be learned from cadavers. Without conscious thought, the knife in his hand descended towards Vale’s middle.
‘What are you doing?’ came an incredulous voice behind him.
Bartholomew leapt to his feet and spun around to find himself facing Dunning and Julitta. Dunning’s aristocratic face was pale with horror, although Julitta seemed composed.
‘Examining these bodies,’ he replied, aware that his voice was far from steady. It was partly because Dunning’s loud question had made him jump, but mostly because he had been a hair’s breadth from doing something recklessly grisly. He was horrified with himself, not for almost giving in to the urge to delve into the forbidden art of anatomy, but for coming so close to doing it in St Mary the Great.
‘With a knife?’ demanded Dunning sceptically.
‘If he is to conduct a thorough examination, he must remove their clothes, Father,’ said Julitta reasonably. ‘Obviously, the blade is to deal with stubborn laces.’
‘What is wrong with untying them?’ asked Dunning, still unconvinced.
‘They have been immersed in water,’ explained Julitta patiently. ‘And water causes knots to tighten. You know this.’
Bartholomew stared at her, noting the way her fine kirtle hugged the slim lines of her body and her hair caught the sunlight from the windows. When she smiled at him, he found himself thinking that Surgeon Holm was a very lucky man.
‘Well, it looked to me as though he was going to take a lump out of Vale,’ Dunning was saying, disgust vying for precedence with horror in his voice. ‘There are tales that say he is in league with the Devil, and I know such men need bits of corpses for their diabolical spells.’
‘Doctor Bartholomew is not a sorcerer,’ said Julitta firmly, while Bartholomew continued to gaze gratefully at her. ‘That is a silly story put about by the likes of my brother-in-law. I am fond of Weasenham, but he really is the most dreadful gossip.’
‘He is,’ conceded Dunning. ‘But he was a good match for Ruth, so I am not complaining.’ He turned back to Bartholomew. ‘So have you learned anything from these hapless corpses yet? They died in the property I have donated to your University, so I have a right to ask.’
‘Yes, you do,’ said Michael, who had heard voices and had come to investigate. ‘And you shall have a full account as soon as my Corpse Examiner has written his official report. Would you like me to bring it to your house later? Perhaps close to the time your dinner is served?’
Julitta’s eyes widened at the brazen hint, and she smothered a smile. ‘You are welcome to dine with us, Brother,’ she said graciously. ‘And Doctor Bartholomew must come, too, lest we have any technical questions.’
‘But I want to know what he has surmised now,’ objected her father.
‘Of course you do, but he has not finished yet,’ said Julitta. ‘And we must visit the Market Square, to ask the baker to increase the amount of bread we dispense to the poor. Summer might be here at last, but the crops are still far from ripe, and they need our charity more than ever now their winter supplies are exhausted.’
‘You are lucky Julitta has a quick brain and an eye for a pretty face,’ said Michael, once she and Dunning had gone. His green eyes were wide with shock. ‘I saw exactly what you were going to do with that knife. No, do not deny it, Matt! It was obvious. What in God’s name were you thinking?’
Bartholomew rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I was not thinking, Brother. I do not feel well, and my wits are like mud this morning.’
‘Why?’ demanded Michael. ‘Did those men hurt you when they attacked last night?’
‘No – I swallowed too much of Newe Inn’s pond. It is not healthy to drink water that contains corpses. In fact, it is not healthy to drink water at all, unless it has been thoroughly boiled and–’
‘None of your wild theories today, please,’ interrupted Michael, still angry. ‘However, I would like to know what you have learned about our victims.’
Bartholomew shrugged. ‘There are no injuries – the arrow wound in Vale is superficial – and they were not suffering from any obvious diseases or ailments.’
‘They drowned, then. They fell or were pushed into the pond.’
‘They did not drown. The only other thing I can think of is poison, which was why I …’ Bartholomew waved the hand that still held the knife.
Michael looked away quickly. ‘Surely, there is a better way to find out than dissection?’
‘Not that I am aware: there is nothing in their mouths to suggest they swallowed a toxin, and no marks on their hands. However, they may have ingested something that damaged their stomachs or lungs, but that will only be determined by an internal examination.’
‘No,’ said Michael firmly. ‘There will be no anatomising in my jurisdiction.’
‘Then I can tell you no more, Brother. Externally, there is nothing to suggest anything other than natural deaths.’
‘All four of them? At the same time? I do not think so!’
‘And they did all die at roughly the same time.’ Bartholomew turned to stare at the bodies again. ‘Clippesby saw them entering Newe Inn’s grounds together on Tuesday night, and Browne found them dead on Wednesday morning.’
Michael rubbed his chin, fingers rasping on the bristles. ‘What about communal suicide?’
‘Four men agreeing to take their own lives simultaneously would have had a very strong reason for doing so, and that reason is likely to have been explained in a note or a message left with friends. There was no such missive, or you would have mentioned it. Moreover, your theory does not explain why Vale was shot.’