A Poisonous Plot

He filled a cup from a barrel. Bartholomew took a very small sip, but it was far too sweet for him, and he was glad to pass the rest to Michael. The monk sniffed it, carefully inspected its colour, then took a large gulp, which he swished noisily around his teeth.

‘It would slip down nicely with cheese,’ he declared eventually, while the others watched the performance with fascination. ‘And it has an agreeable punch.’

‘It does,’ agreed Shirwynk, pleased by the praise, although he tried to hide it. ‘It is popular with wealthy townsmen and scholars alike.’

‘Although we charge the University twice as much as we do the burgesses,’ added Peyn, then scowled defiantly when his father shot him a withering look — the Senior Proctor had the right to set prices for food and drink, so telling him his colleagues were being cheated was hardly wise.

‘It is so well liked that scholars break in here to steal it,’ said Shirwynk, going on an offensive in the hope that Michael would forget his son’s incautious remark. ‘Some disappears almost every night.’

‘How do you know an academic is responsible?’ asked Bartholomew, a little indignantly.

‘Because no townsman would raid me,’ replied Shirwynk, rather unconvincingly. ‘Peyn has taken to standing guard during the hours of darkness, but even he is obliged to slip away on occasion, and the villains always seem to know when the place is empty.’

‘Frenge,’ said Michael briskly, unwilling to waste time in idle chatter. ‘Did he have any friends who might be able to tell us about his final hours?’

‘Well, there is Robert de Hakeney,’ replied Shirwynk. ‘The drunken vintner. But he will say the same as us — that Frenge was murdered by King’s Hall.’

‘What did Frenge eat and drink yesterday morning?’ asked Bartholomew.

‘Breakfast ale and sweet pottage,’ replied Shirwynk. ‘But you cannot blame those for making an end of him, because Peyn and I shared them with him and we are still alive.’

‘I did not have the pottage,’ put in Peyn. ‘I prefer salty foods. But I had the ale.’

‘Did your wife eat and drink with you as well?’

‘She did not.’ Shirwynk’s voice was cold. ‘She was too ill.’

‘What was wrong with her?’

‘Nigellus said it was a fatal dizziness, although he is a scholar, so I am not sure whether to believe him. I tried to get Meryfeld — the only physician who is not part of your damned University — but he decided to be mulish over an unpaid bill, and refused to come.’

‘Other than dizziness, what were Letia’s symptoms?’

‘Where to start?’ sighed Peyn. ‘Mother was ill for as long as I can remember. Indeed, we were surprised that she lasted as long as she did, given the number of ailments she claimed she had.’

‘Most recently, she suffered from pains in the stomach, headaches and weak limbs,’ said Shirwynk. ‘She insisted on hiring a physician, and wanted Nigellus because he is the most expensive and therefore the best. But she died anyway.’

‘I am sorry for your loss,’ said Michael automatically.

‘I am not,’ muttered Peyn. ‘Her constant moaning was a trial.’

There was no more to be said after such a remark, so Bartholomew and Michael left the brewery, waiting until they were well away before voicing their thoughts.

‘You found no poison on the premises, but that means nothing,’ said Michael. ‘And I can see Shirwynk and that nasty little Peyn committing murder to suit themselves. It is obvious that neither cared for Letia, and they do not seem unduly distressed by Frenge’s demise either. It would be a good outcome for us — townsmen dispatching each other.’

‘You may be right, but how will we prove it? They were both very confident that a search of their brewery would tell us nothing — either because they are innocent, or because they know they had covered their tracks.’

‘We must find answers,’ said Michael worriedly. ‘Because if we do not identify the culprit, rumour and suspicion will bring us a riot. Of course, that may be exactly what Shirwynk intends.’

‘Why would he want something that would disrupt trade, including his own, and inflict misery and suffering on his town?’

‘Because he is a vicious malcontent with an irrational hatred of our University and an agenda I do not yet understand. We cannot afford to be lax about this, Matt. We both must do all in our power to solve Frenge’s murder before the whole of Cambridge erupts into flames.’

CHAPTER 4

Michael wanted to question Hakeney about Frenge at once, but Bartholomew was concerned about the accusation Wayt had made about the blue discharge, and as the dyeworks were next to the brewery, he insisted on stopping there first. The monk was not pleased by the delay, but could tell by the set expression on Bartholomew’s face that there was no point in arguing.