‘Has Hélène recalled anything new?’ asked Bartholomew.
‘Unfortunately not,’ replied Tulyet. ‘She just remembers feeling sleepy.’
Bartholomew thought about the milk. ‘The soporific must have been added in the kitchen. Does that mean the culprit is a member of staff? No one else can get in there.’
Tulyet grimaced. ‘If only that were true! Last night, I broke in with ease. Then I entered the kitchen, refectory and dormitory without being challenged once. I was obliged to teach the Tangmers how to implement some basic security measures.’
‘But the Girards were killed in broad daylight,’ argued Bartholomew. ‘It is one thing to sneak in under cover of darkness, but another altogether to do it during the day.’
‘Unfortunately, the layout of the Spital offers plenty of cover for a competent invader,’ countered Tulyet. ‘Ergo, the culprit might well hail from outside.’
‘Suspects,’ said Michael briskly. ‘First, the peregrini.’
‘They are high on my list, too,’ said Tulyet. ‘Especially as I have learned that they arrived in the area two days before Paris was stabbed. Now, the Girards were no angels – they were territorial over the shed, they took money with no intention of honouring agreements, and two were Jacques. Meanwhile, Delacroix is angry, bitter and violent – perhaps the Girards quarrelled with him.’
‘Or Father Julien did,’ said Michael. ‘I like the man, but perhaps he decided that dispatching one awkward, divisive family was the best way to save the rest.’
‘What about the Spital staff?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Little Goda is in the clear, because Prioress Joan saw her in the kitchen when the fire was set. The two of them can have no more than a passing acquaintance, so there is no reason to think they are lying for each other.’
‘My clerks cross-checked my notes about who was with whom when,’ said Tulyet. ‘And it transpires that every member of staff has at least two others to vouch for him except Tangmer, his wife and Eudo. Eudo and Tangmer say they were together, but their accounts are contradictory.’
‘So they lied,’ mused Michael. ‘Interesting.’
‘Very. Amphelisa was alone in her workshop, and I am inclined to believe her because of the way she cares for Hélène – you do not try to kill a child, then adopt her as your own. Moreover, she is the one who agreed to house the peregrini in the first place, very much against her husband’s better judgement.’
‘Then there is Magistra Katherine,’ Bartholomew went on. ‘She was reading behind the chapel, so she has no alibi either.’
‘I cannot see the Bishop’s sister dispatching a family of strangers,’ said Michael.
‘Why not?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Her brother sanctions murder.’
‘I hardly think it is something that runs in a family,’ retorted Michael stiffly. ‘A more likely suspect is that spiteful Sister Alice, who went a-visiting at the salient time.’
‘Then we have an entire town that hates the French,’ added Tulyet. ‘I know no one is supposed to know that the Spital is full of them, but these secrets have a way of leaking out. What did the ditcher and the miller tell you, Brother? Could either of them be the killer?’
‘No,’ said Michael with conviction. ‘Neither is clever enough to have devised such an audacious plan, and nor would they kill children with poisoned milk. Furthermore, they are not observant, and would never have identified the “lunatics” as French.’
‘Sir Leger and Sir Norbert might have done, though,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘And Isnard and Sergeant Orwel did see them talking to the Girards.’
Tulyet grimaced. ‘My new knights hate the French, and if the Girards gave themselves away … But let us not forget that de Wetherset and Heltisle hired the Girards as proxies.’
‘I wonder if Theophilis was there when that happened,’ said Bartholomew reflectively, ‘perhaps spying on them for you, Brother.’
‘If Theophilis had the slightest inkling that Frenchmen were posing as lunatics, he would have told me,’ said Michael firmly. ‘However, Aynton would not – he cannot be trusted at all.’ He scowled when Bartholomew began to object. ‘If you insist on including Theophilis, then I insist on including Aynton.’
Bartholomew raised his hands in surrender. ‘Although neither of us really thinks de Wetherset and Heltisle are the kind of men to poison children.’
‘I would not put it past them,’ countered Tulyet. ‘It would not be the first time seemingly respectable scholars resorted to abhorrent tactics to get their own way.’
‘So where does that leave our list?’ asked Michael. ‘Summarise it for me.’
‘The peregrini, specifically Julien and the Jacques,’ began Tulyet. ‘Amphelisa, Tangmer and Eudo from the Spital; Magistra Katherine and Sister Alice from the Benedictine Order; Leger and Norbert from the castle; and de Wetherset, Heltisle, Aynton and Theophilis from the University.’
‘And a lot of dim-witted townsfolk and students who think we are about to be invaded by the Dauphin,’ added Michael. ‘Although we all have reservations about Amphelisa being the culprit, while I sincerely doubt de Wetherset and Theophilis are involved, and Matt thinks Aynton is as pure as driven snow.’
‘So how do we set about finding the culprit?’ asked Bartholomew.
‘You tackle the scholars and the nuns,’ replied Tulyet, ‘while I concentrate on the townsfolk. We shall share the suspects at the Spital.’
‘And your knights?’ asked Michael. ‘Will you take them, too?’
‘No – we shall do that together.’ Tulyet winced. ‘Their military service has turned them into French-hating fanatics. They also know how to break into buildings and set fires. It is entirely possible that one of them – Leger, most likely – guessed what the Spital is hiding.’
Michael stood abruptly. ‘Come with us to look at the knife that killed Paris, Dick. You know weapons better than we do.’
On their way out of the Brazen George, a message arrived for Michael. It was from Heltisle, and ordered him to report to St Mary the Great immediately. The monk read it once, then again to be sure. When he had finished, he screwed it into a ball and flung it on the ground.
‘How dare he summon me!’ he fumed. ‘I have enough to do, without being sent hither and thither at the whim of a man whose appointment I did not sanction.’
‘You are on your way there anyway,’ said Tulyet pragmatically. ‘And he might have something important to tell you. If not, it can be your pretext for ignoring him next time.’
‘There will not be a next time! And I am glad you two will be with me – it means that if I feel compelled to punch him, one can drag me off while the other sets his broken nose.’
Tulyet backed away. ‘I rather think this is a confrontation that an outsider should not witness. Go and do your punching and meet me by the Great Bridge in an hour. Bring the knife that killed Paris. In the interim, I will start questioning townsfolk about the fire.’
He hurried away, and Bartholomew and Michael stepped on to the High Street just as Aynton was passing. The Commissary beamed amiably and fell into step beside them, so Michael used the opportunity for an impromptu interrogation.
‘Where were you when the Spital fire started?’ he asked, cutting into the Commissary’s rambling account of a brawl he had witnessed the previous night.
Aynton blinked his surprise. ‘Me? Why?’
‘Because I should like to know,’ replied Michael coolly.
Aynton gave a little laugh. ‘I am afraid I cannot tell you precisely, because I do not know precisely when the fire began. However, I was probably in St Mary the Great with de Wetherset and Heltisle. Oh, and Theophilis, who was spying on us, as is his wont. Can you not find him anything more respectable to do, Brother?’