‘Not if she was in her house, trying not to listen to the Guild’s revelries,’ pressed Suttone.
‘Perhaps she was not,’ said de Wetherset. ‘You can see the Swan from her home, and it would not take many moments to sneak out, tap the barrel, and add some poison.’
‘She might have killed the entire Guild,’ said Bartholomew, appalled. ‘They were all celebrating.’
‘I imagine getting rid of all her brother’s enemies in one fell swoop would have been a tremendous boon to her,’ said de Wetherset. ‘Of course, that would have been bad for Lincoln.’
‘Why?’ asked Michael. ‘These men do not sound like particularly good citizens.’
‘Because it would destroy the balance between the two factions,’ explained de Wetherset. ‘And the balance is the only thing stopping us from erupting in a frenzy of blood-letting – and I do not mean your kind of blood-letting, Bartholomew. I am talking about murder and mayhem.’
‘What about you, Father Simon?’ Bartholomew asked. ‘Have you chosen a side in this dispute?’
‘I do not approve of any city pulled apart by discord,’ replied Simon. ‘However, I dislike the way Miller is denigrated because he is not from an ancient mercantile family, like Kelby’s. I suppose I tend towards supporting the Commonalty because I dislike the Guild’s smug merchants – it costs little to dispense free bread to needy weavers, but they do not bother. Miller does.’
De Wetherset smiled wryly. ‘I stand with neither side, although it may be politically expedient to throw in my lot with the Guild in time. It is favoured by the canons – my new colleagues – you see.’
Simon glared at him. ‘That is hardly an ethical reason on which to base your choice.’
‘It is as ethical as yours – that you feel sorry for an upstart who is shunned by the older families.’
‘But Miller is said to be rich,’ said Michael, puzzled. ‘Why should Kelby and Flaxfleete take against such a man?’
‘Wealth does not confer breeding,’ explained de Wetherset. ‘Miller is one of the richest men in the city, but you would not want him dining with you – he wipes his teeth on the tablecloth and he spits. And I am not sure his money has been honestly gained. There are rumours–’
‘There are always rumours,’ said Simon coolly. ‘But gossip is for fools and the gullible.’
De Wetherset turned to Michael. ‘You see? Everyone feels strongly about this dispute. All I know is that it is important to maintain the status quo, so neither party seizes power.’
Simon was thoughtful. ‘We all say the same thing about this so-called balance, but is it really true? When a member of the Commonalty threw himself into the Braytheford Pool in a spat of drunken self-pity last Sunday, I held my breath, anticipating the equilibrium would shift and there would be mayhem – the Guild accused of murder, even though Herl’s death was a clear suicide. And there were indeed accusations and recriminations, but they amounted to nothing.’
‘You may have preached here for two decades, Simon, but my opinion counts for something – and I am right,’ said de Wetherset with the cool arrogance Bartholomew remembered so well from the man’s Cambridge days. ‘I say the balance is important, and only a fool would disagree with me.’ He changed the subject before the priest could dispute the point. ‘I was beginning to think you might not arrive in time, Brother. Most canons-elect come a month early, so they can be fitted for their ceremonial vestments. Such fine garments cannot be run up in an afternoon, you know.’
‘The weather is atrocious, and the journey took twice as long as we anticipated,’ said Michael, resenting the implication that he was tardy.
‘De Wetherset has been extolling your talent for solving murder,’ said Simon, with the kind of look that suggested he thought the skill a peculiar one. ‘Will you apply your expertise to Aylmer’s death? I imagine Suttone will want to know who killed his Vicar Choral.’
‘I would,’ said Suttone to Michael. ‘But I do not want you to do it, Brother. It might see us in trouble with the sheriff.’
‘I am sure you are right,’ said Michael. ‘And I have no intention of meddling. I am here to enjoy myself and bask in the glory of my appointment. I do not want to be burdened with secular duties.’
‘Good,’ muttered Bartholomew. He knew who would be asked to inspect the corpse if Michael agreed to help, and he had no wish to examine bodies when he could be looking for Matilde.
‘That is a pity,’ said de Wetherset. ‘The death should be investigated, and I have taken the liberty of informing Bishop Gynewell about your abilities. He is sure to ask for your assistance, Brother.’
Michael glared at him. ‘That was a high-handed thing to have done.’
‘You are about to receive a lucrative prebend,’ said de Wetherset sternly. ‘Surely, you will want to repay that honour by offering Gynewell the benefit of your expertise? If this city has a problem, and it is in your power to eliminate it, then surely you will not deny him?’
Michael continued to glare. ‘That is unfair.’
‘So is life,’ said de Wetherset with an unrepentant shrug. ‘I imagine the bishop will want to see you first thing tomorrow morning, so be grateful I warned you in advance. Meanwhile, Simon and I have elected to share this chamber with you tonight, rather than bed in the hall below. Aylmer was murdered by someone who might still be there, and we have no wish to be stabbed as we sleep.’
‘He was stabbed as he slept?’ asked Suttone in alarm.
Simon shot de Wetherset a withering look. ‘No, he was not. His body was slumped across his bed in a way that made it clear he was inspecting his possessions when he was killed.’
‘It was not his possessions he was inspecting,’ said de Wetherset, sharp in his turn. ‘You cannot leave the truth unspoken, if Michael is to solve this case. He was holding your holy chalice – he may even have been in the process of stealing it – while the rest of us were at our devotions.’
Michael sighed wearily. ‘Aylmer was killed while in the commission of a crime?’
Simon grimaced. ‘We do not know that. He was holding my cup, and perhaps he did have designs on it, but we will never know his intentions, and I am inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was a priest, and so would have been wary of committing evil acts on sacred ground.’
‘Was he alone when he was attacked?’ asked Michael. ‘Were there any witnesses to his death?’
‘The bells here are very loud,’ replied de Wetherset. ‘I think the Gilbertines installed some especially large ones with intention of out-clanging the Carmelites up the road. The upshot is that once the damned things get going for the dawn offices, it is impossible to sleep. Everyone quit the guest-hall this morning, and either left the priory to begin business in the city or went to attend prime.’
‘Aylmer did not, if he was admiring other people’s property,’ Michael pointed out.
Simon inclined his head. ‘That is true. However, he definitely accompanied us to the chapel, because he walked across the yard at my side. Then I went to stand near the front, so everyone could hear me singing, and I suppose he must have slipped out later.’
‘The killer must have slipped out, too,’ said Michael.
De Wetherset nodded. ‘Of course. But the chapel is dark in the mornings, because the Gilbertines cannot afford many candles. It is impossible to make out the man next to you, let alone identify which of the brethren, nuns and guests were or were not present. Any of them could have stabbed Aylmer.’
‘Except me,’ said Simon firmly. ‘I was singing and had I left, my absence would have been noted.’
‘Is that true?’ asked Michael of de Wetherset.
De Wetherset raised laconic eyebrows. ‘He certainly has a penetrating voice,’ he said, giving the impression he was not as impressed with it as was its owner.
‘How many people are in this community?’ asked Michael, becoming intrigued with the case, despite his resent ment at the way in which it was being foisted on him.