‘It will grow,’ said Bartholomew shortly.
‘Eventually,’ said Lenne. He handed Bartholomew a gold coin. ‘This should be sufficient to see her through to the end. It cannot be long now.’
‘It will not,’ agreed Bartholomew bluntly. ‘She only waited this long because you were coming.’
‘Then I should go back to her,’ replied Lenne. He hesitated, then addressed Michael. ‘Isnard tells me Thomas Mortimer is not to be charged with my father’s murder? Is this true?’
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ said Michael. ‘There were no witnesses to the accident, and–’
‘There was Bosel,’ interrupted the bargeman bitterly. ‘But Mortimer had him murdered, so he would not speak out. And there is me, but the lawyers say I do not count, because I am a victim. They claim they need independent witnesses to bring about a conviction.’
‘That cannot be right,’ said Lenne unhappily. ‘There is no such thing as an independent witness in a place like Cambridge, where everyone is bound by allegiances, alliances and agendas. Even the beggar will have had his own reasons for stepping forward.’
‘I am sure he did,’ muttered Michael. ‘And it would not surprise me to learn that he saw nothing of the accident. But I suspect it cost him his life nonetheless.’
‘The law is unjust,’ said Isnard softly. ‘Thomas should pay me for my injury, and he should pay Lenne for the loss of his father. But the law disagrees. Meanwhile, Thorpe and Edward are claiming compensation because they were ordered to abjure the realm. They were guilty, and everyone knows it, but the law says the town is to pay them. I heard it this morning.’
‘The King’s Bench has reached a decision about that?’ asked Michael. ‘Already?’
Isnard nodded. ‘A messenger arrived from Westminster last night. The news is all over the town this morning, and people are furious – especially the merchants, who will be obliged to provide the lion’s share. The King’s clerks were quite clear about what was to happen.’
‘Bribery,’ said Lenne in a disgusted voice. ‘I heard these clerks were bribed to issue the compensation order – with promises of a percentage of whatever was raised. Needless to say, the sum to be paid to Thorpe and Edward is a large one.’
‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Michael uncertainly. It did not sound likely, even for England’s notoriously flexible legal system.
‘Yes,’ said Isnard bitterly. ‘I have nothing to do but sit here and listen to gossip. Godric of Ovyng Hostel – he is a nice lad – came and told me all about the letter Sheriff Tulyet had from these greedy Westminster clerks.’
‘I hope Tulyet orders Thomas Mortimer to pay most of it,’ said Lenne in disgust. ‘Justice!’ He spat at the river, causing a flapping frenzy among the ducks, and stalked away. Bartholomew thought he had every right to be angry, and wondered if he might decide to dispense a little ‘justice’ of his own. He said as much.
‘He will not,’ said Isnard. ‘He will rage and rail, then he will bury his mother and go back to Thetford. He is not stupid, and knows the law favours the rich. But perhaps he should ask his prior to petition the King, to tell him what is really happening here. His Majesty deserves to know what vile things are being done in his name.’
‘Unfortunately, I suspect he already does,’ said Bartholomew. He recalled what Tulyet had said about the law. ‘But it is all that stands between us and chaos.’
‘I suspect we will soon learn that it does not make a very good barrier,’ said Isnard. ‘There are rumblings of discontent in this town – about the ownership of the Hand, about the mills, and about the compensation for Thorpe and Edward. It will not be long before we are in flames.’
Bartholomew felt even more restless after his encounter with Isnard, and did not know what to do to take his mind off the array of problems and questions that tumbled about his mind like demanding acrobats. When Michael would have strolled back towards Michaelhouse, Bartholomew steered him to the High Street instead, thinking they could walk as far as the Castle or beyond. The hill would be good exercise for Michael, and there was a sick woman in the derelict cottages opposite the fortress who might appreciate a visit from a physician and a monk.
As they approached the Church of All Saints in the Jewry, Bartholomew saw people begin to emerge after its Sunday service. Among them were Stanmore and Tulyet, who expressed their sadness over the death of Warde.
‘What is this about the town paying Thorpe and Edward Mortimer for the costs of their exile?’ demanded Michael, brushing their condolences aside. ‘Surely it cannot be right?’
Tulyet’s expression was disgusted. ‘I had word from the King’s Bench yesterday, and the sum we have been ordered to pay is enormous. It will cause all manner of strife, because the burgesses are already demanding that some of it should be paid by the University.’
‘Why?’ asked Michael indignantly. ‘Neither Thorpe nor Mortimer were scholars when they committed their crimes. Why should the University contribute to compensation?’
‘Because the merchants are already struggling to fund the repairs to the Great Bridge,’ replied Tulyet tartly. ‘Thorpe and Mortimer’s demand has come at a very bad time.’
‘The burgesses are right,’ said Stanmore who, as one of the town’s wealthiest merchants, was likely to be asked to put up a significant amount. ‘The University should help us with this.’
‘Will you contest the decision?’ asked Bartholomew of Tulyet. ‘There must be something we can do to avoid rewarding criminals for their wrongdoings.’
‘We have no case,’ said Tulyet. ‘The King’s Bench has made a decision in His Majesty’s name, and we cannot refuse to part with our gold because we think it is wrong. The King would respond by accusing us of rebellion. All we can do is pay the money, and hope Thorpe and Mortimer leave.’
‘I will never pay a Mortimer,’ vowed Cheney the spicer, overhearing their discussion as he walked past. He bustled forward to have his say. ‘Not a penny! I hurl stones every time I see Edward swagger along the High Street, but I always miss.’
Cheney’s Millers’ Society colleagues were at his heels. They had evidently been using the service to engage in a little impromptu business, because all held documents, and Morice carried an abacus.
‘We were sorry about Warde,’ said Isobel, breaking off from an apparently intense discussion with Bernarde and her husband. ‘He was a good man.’
‘The King’s Commission miss he,’ said Lavenham gravely, when she pinched his arm to tell him to make a suitably sympathetic comment. ‘He school-man with nose in book, but honest.’
‘He was fair minded,’ agreed Tulyet. ‘I do not know how the King’s Commission will fare without his calm voice and gentle reason.’
‘Master Thorpe will be even-handed,’ said Michael.
‘So will I,’ declared Bernarde, affronted. ‘And Lavenham. We will give the King the verdict he wants.’
‘Point proven,’ muttered Bartholomew.
‘I do not see your problem,’ said Bernarde, genuinely puzzled. ‘Surely you want the King happy?’
‘Everyone wants the King happy,’ said Stanmore, before his brother-in-law could incriminate himself by saying he did not much care. ‘The King unhappy is always a bad thing, because it means increased taxes. None of us want that.’
There was a chorus of fervent agreement, with Cheney adding that it was especially true now everyone had to dig deep in his coffers to pay Edward and Thorpe’s compensation – as well as financing the repairs to the bridge.
‘Master Warde was not as unbiased as everyone believes,’ said Bernarde, returning to the matter of the Commission. ‘When we had our first meeting, he insisted on putting the Mortimers’ point of view – and Master Thorpe actually listened to him.’ He sounded as if he could scarcely credit their outrageous behaviour.
‘Did he, by God?’ said Cheney, pursing his lips in disapproval. ‘I might have known scholars would support the wrong side. After all, the Mortimers did choose Gonville Hall to present their case at the formal hearing, and University men always stick together.’