‘It would explain why he never visited,’ said Clippesby softly. ‘He did not have the courage to look his victim in the eye.’
‘So you took matters into your own hands,’ said Michael, regarding the youth sternly. ‘You throttled her, using a massive degree of force because of a certain discussion you heard between Inges and others in Kirwell’s room.’
Trentham nodded, and his eyes filled with tears again. ‘He said a brief but powerful squeeze would see it all over in an instant. He was right: something snapped in her neck immediately, and I do not believe she experienced more than a momentary flash of pain. Nothing compared to what she had borne already.’
‘It is still murder,’ said Michael.
‘I know,’ sobbed Trentham. ‘God help me.’
‘Make your confession to Clippesby,’ said Michael tiredly. ‘The Bishop will decide what happens to you.’
He beckoned Bartholomew outside, where the sky was clear and splattered with stars, all sparkling in the black velvet of night. They stood in silence for a while.
‘What a horrible business,’ Michael said eventually. ‘I cannot find it in my heart to condemn the lad, yet what he did … Of course, it was unkind of Lady Lullington to ask it of him.’
‘People often beg the same of me, and I understand why he yielded. What do you think Gynewell will do with him?’
‘He has benefit of clergy, so he will not hang. A life of atonement, perhaps?’
‘Then it might be a good idea to suggest that he does not do it in another hospital, lest he feels inclined to meddle with nature a second time.’
‘I doubt that will happen; he has learned his lesson. However, now we have another killer to confront, one who is a lot more ruthless than Trentham.’
‘It will not be easy,’ warned Bartholomew. ‘Lullington is not the sort of man who will confess willingly, and our only “evidence” is Trentham’s suspicions. The opinion of a self-confessed strangler will not count for much, and Lullington will know it.’
‘And he will doubtless use the fact that his wife would not have wanted him charged with her death,’ sighed Michael. ‘Trentham’s testimony suggests she knew exactly what he had done to her, but she elected to say silent about it.’
‘Yes, and I suspect Lullington knew that, too, because of something he said at Entertainment Night – about her “loyalty” to him. I thought at the time that it was an odd thing to say, and I have been mulling over the possibility that he had harmed her ever since. But why would she let him get away with such a monstrous thing?’
‘Because of her sons, lest the shame of murder blight their careers – they are attached to the King’s court, where that sort of thing matters. I suggest we tackle him now, Matt, when he will be befuddled with sleep and may let something slip. We will not have time tomorrow, and I should like to present the Bishop with one killer before we leave.’
‘Perhaps we should stay another day, Brother – at least until a proper search has been made for Robert’s body. After all, Gynewell is unlikely to make you Abbot if you leave before exposing the culprit.’
‘A difficult choice,’ mused Michael. ‘My present responsibilities to the University or my future ones to the abbey.’
Despite the late hour, the knight was not in his quarters when Michael stormed in without knocking. A brief glance around showed that Lullington had secured himself some of the best lodgings in the monastery. There was a little pantry at one end of his elegant solar, which was well stocked with exotic treats – all recently purchased, suggesting that his wife’s jewels had been put to good use. Its top shelf was invisible from ground level, and as Lullington was a stupid, unimaginative man, Bartholomew was willing to wager that the knight considered it a cunning hiding place. He stood on a stool and groped around.
The phial was hidden behind some pots of preserved fruit. It was not easy to reach, for it had been shoved as far back as possible, but he managed to hook it forward eventually. He opened it and took a cautious sniff.
‘Well?’ asked Michael.
‘It will have to be tested, of course, but it smells like a substance I encountered in Padua. An anatomist fed some to a dog, and when the body was opened, it was full of lesions. There is no reason – no legitimate reason – for Lullington to have this in his possession.’
‘Is it the same as the toxin in the Lombard slices?’ asked Michael.
Bartholomew shook his head. ‘I would not have recovered from a dose of this. But I have been thinking about the stuff that was used on me. It made me sleep for hours, which means I swallowed a significant measure. But how could it have all gone into a single cake without me tasting something amiss? It–’
‘Give the phial to me,’ interrupted Michael, unwilling to listen to a lecture on the subject. ‘We shall confront Lullington with it later.’
‘There is something else up here, too,’ said Bartholomew, standing on tiptoe and supposing his conclusions about what had happened to him would have to wait until a more opportune moment. ‘Hand me the candle, Brother. I cannot see.’
The item transpired to be a pouch, pushed so far into the shadows that the physician had to use Lullington’s spare sword to reach it and drag it towards him. It was heavy for its size.
‘It has not been there long,’ said Michael. ‘Or it would be dustier. And the leather is new.’
He shook its contents out on to the table. There were two seals, several large jewels and a bar of gold that was the size of a small book and considerably weightier.
‘The gold alone must be worth a fortune,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘Not to mention the diamonds. Or are they sapphires? Regardless, it tells us that Lullington is a rich man in his own right, and he had no need to plunder his dead wife’s possessions.’
‘These do not belong to him. The seals are an abbot’s – his personal one, with an image of him reading his bible; and the monastery’s, with St Peter holding the keys to Heaven.’
‘I thought Robert took them with him when he went to visit Aurifabro.’
Michael nodded. ‘And as I doubt he surrendered them willingly, we must conclude that they were acquired by force. Or after he was dead. No wonder Lullington showed a marked lack of concern for his missing “friend”. The villain is involved in whatever happened to him!’
‘What about the precious stones and the gold?’
‘I suspect they represent a large chunk of the monastery’s portable wealth.’
‘Shall I put them back?’
‘No! When he learns his game is up, Lullington might manage to sneak back and make off with them, leaving the monastery penniless.’
Outside, a bell chimed for nocturns, which meant it was roughly two o’clock. After a moment, monks began to process from their dormitory to the church, a silent line of men in hoods and swinging habits, sandals whispering on the flagstones.
‘Should we ask them to help us find Lullington?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘We cannot do it alone – the abbey is too big.’
‘If we do, we shall have to tell them why, and the tale will be all over Peterborough tomorrow. It is better to deal with the matter quietly and discreetly.’
Bartholomew was not sure he agreed, but he deferred to his friend’s judgement. However, he wished he had objected when a search of the refectory, chapter house, kitchens and various other buildings met with no success. Lullington was not there.
‘Perhaps he fled because he knew we were closing in on him,’ suggested Michael.
‘How? We have not spoken to anyone except Trentham, and he is hardly in a position to gossip. Besides, I do not see Lullington abandoning his comfortable existence without a fight.’
‘True,’ agreed Michael. Then he regarded the physician in alarm. ‘Lord! I hope he is not dead, because we cannot investigate another murder.’