‘Of course,’ sighed Rougham. ‘Deschalers was a grocer and Bottisham’s duties as a Fellow included purchasing our College’s victuals. They did a lot of business together.’
‘What can you tell me about Bottisham? Did he have any enemies who might wish him harm? Or a lover who–’
‘No,’ said Pulham firmly, before he could continue. ‘I knew you would do this: rummage through Bottisham’s personal affairs in search of scandal. But you will not succeed, Brother. There were no shameful secrets in his past. He had just taken holy orders with the Carmelites, and his life was blameless. He was the victim here, not the perpetrator.’
‘We do not know who killed whom yet,’ said Michael carefully.
‘Bottisham was not the villain,’ stated Rougham. ‘He was a good man – gentle and kind – and he would never hurt anyone. I have already told you that Deschalers could have summoned the strength to kill, so the case is closed as far as I am concerned. Deschalers killed Bottisham, then made an end of himself in a fit of remorse.’
‘If Bottisham was so gentle and kind, then why would Deschalers want him dead?’ asked Michael.
Rougham glared at him. ‘There are all kinds of possible explanations. Deschalers might have mistaken Bottisham for someone else. Or perhaps Deschalers did not intend to kill anyone, and the whole thing was an accident. Who can say?’
‘You do not “accidentally” drive a nail into a man’s brain,’ said Michael. ‘And every member of the Millers’ Society thinks Bottisham is the killer – that he followed Deschalers into–’
‘No!’ cried Thompson, distressed. ‘Bottisham would never do such a thing! How can you even think it? I thought you liked him.’
‘I did – do,’ said Michael tiredly. ‘But if we want to solve this crime, then we must explore every possible angle, and – unfortunately for those of us who admired him – that means prying into aspects of his life that he might have preferred to keep to himself.’
‘I have already told you that you will be disappointed if you go that way,’ warned Pulham angrily. ‘Bottisham had no sordid secrets.’
‘We all have something we would rather no one else knew,’ said Michael softly. ‘I have been Senior Proctor for long enough to learn that, at least.’
‘Bottisham believed Deschalers was a wicked man,’ said Pulham, raising a hand to prevent another enraged outburst from Rougham. ‘He often commented that he was corrupt and nasty. We saw that side of Deschalers for ourselves, when he promised funds for our chapel and then withdrew them at an inconvenient time. Remember that, Thompson?’
Thompson turned to Michael and Bartholomew. ‘About two years ago, Deschalers offered Gonville a donation that would have gone a long way to raising our chapel walls, if not the roof, too. But, just as the work was about to begin, he withdrew the entire amount. I was sure the whole thing was engineered to embarrass Bottisham.’
‘There was also some ancient quarrel involving a field,’ said Michael. ‘Do you know anything about that?’
Thompson nodded. ‘Deschalers owned a field in Chesterton, but the Bigod family said it was theirs. Deschalers took the case to the King’s Bench, and employed Bottisham to argue for him. Bottisham lost, and Deschalers was angry, because he believed his claim was solid.’
‘And was it?’ asked Michael. ‘Solid?’
‘It appeared to be, on parchment. But courts do not always operate on the principle of justice and right, as you have no doubt observed. Bribes change hands. Bottisham was honest, and would never have indulged in such corruption. I imagine that was at the heart of their schism.’
‘Deschalers lost his field because Bottisham refused to negotiate a bribe?’ asked Bartholomew.
This time, it was Pulham who nodded. ‘Deschalers was furious that he had lost land, just because Bottisham refused to compromise his personal integrity. And they were enemies thereafter.’
‘But Bottisham’s anger was passive,’ added Thompson. ‘He was not a man to engage in noisy and public quarrels. Deschalers was more vocal, and the distasteful incident of the withdrawn funds is just one example of sly tricks designed to hurt Bottisham. Bottisham genuinely believed Deschalers wanted to bury the hatchet when he offered us that donation. We should all have known better.’
‘We should,’ agreed Rougham. ‘So, you can dig and pry all you like, Brother, but you will never find anything sinister or corrupt in Bottisham’s past. He is sinless, and he was ruthlessly murdered by a man who hated him. Deschalers is your killer, and that is that.’
Bartholomew was relieved when the monk stood to leave, bringing the uncomfortable interview to a close.
‘Thank God that is over,’ said Michael vehemently, as he and Bartholomew left Gonville Hall. ‘You cannot imagine how distasteful it was, demanding to know nasty secrets about poor Bottisham.’
Bartholomew felt he could imagine very well, and thought it – combined with Rougham’s inexplicable hostility – made for one of the least pleasant encounters he had ever endured at another College. He started to turn right, towards Michaelhouse, but the monk had other ideas, and he found himself steered to the left instead. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To Deschalers’s house. I have already spoken to his apprentices, and today I want to talk to the servants. We learned virtually nothing from Gonville, so we had better hope we hear something useful from Deschalers’s people, or we shall be at a dead end again.’
‘Tulyet told me that Deschalers was a very private man, so I doubt you will learn much from servants. And he had no close friends – not since the plague took them, at least.’
‘Rougham does not like you,’ remarked Michael, changing the subject. ‘And the feeling is mutual. I have seldom seen such a disgraceful display of sniping and snapping.’
‘It is a pity,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Physicians are not so numerous in Cambridge that we can afford to spurn each other’s company, and yet I find Rougham a deeply repellent man. He seemed much worse today than usual, though. We have always managed a show of civility in the past.’
‘He invited you to dine last Wednesday,’ said Michael thoughtfully. ‘Yet, just a week later, he can barely stand to be in the same room as you.’
‘Perhaps he was offended that I amputated Isnard’s leg instead of eating with him.’
‘Physicians are often called away from pleasant social occasions by their patients. I am sure he understands that. No, Matt, his antagonism goes a lot deeper than a missed meal. He was accusing you openly of holding fast to heretical ideals. I told you to be careful of him with your casual approach to what he considers anathema, and I was right. You have clearly done something to tip him over the edge and shatter the illusion of tolerance between you.’
‘Perhaps he is angry with Redmeadow over the catmint episode, and holds me responsible. But here comes a physician who is fair-minded and pleasant company: Paxtone from King’s Hall.’
‘Matthew!’ exclaimed Paxtone, his round features breaking into a smile. ‘I was hoping to see you. Rougham is selling all Gonville’s medical books that are not by Greeks, and I have purchased the writings of Lanfrank of Milan on surgery. I would value your opinion. Will you visit me later?’
‘I would like to come now,’ said Bartholomew unhappily. ‘But I am going to Deschalers’s house, to see if we can discover why he and Bottisham were found dead together.’
Paxtone shuddered. ‘Poor souls! What have you learned so far? It grieves me to say so, but Deschalers did not harm Bottisham – he was too ill. And since Bernarde the miller says they were the only two people there, then it stands to reason that Bottisham must have killed Deschalers. But Bottisham did not seem like the kind of man to kill …’ He trailed off uncomfortably.
‘He was not,’ said Bartholomew, more sharply than he intended. ‘Besides, Rougham was Deschalers’s physician, and he disagrees with you. He says Deschalers was strong enough.’