A Summer of Discontent

Next, he examined Robert’s once-fine habit, which was now a sodden mess caked in mud and slime. The greenery that adhered to it was not just water vegetation: there were vine leaves, too. Bartholomew deduced that Robert had met his end in the vineyard, where he had been searching for William, and then had been taken to the water and pushed in.

Finally, he inspected Robert’s hands. He saw that the fingers were slightly swollen and that blood encrusted the nails. Robert, unlike the others, had struggled hard against what had happened to him. There were grazes on his knees, too, and one or two marks on his arms and body that might have resulted from some kind of skirmish.

Bartholomew did not want to linger in the cathedral, where he felt he was being watched by spectators who wanted to see a murdered monk for themselves; it would be better to discuss his findings in the infirmary, where he would also be able to help watch over the ailing Thomas. When they arrived, Henry glanced up from his position near the sub-prior’s bed. He looked tired already, and Bartholomew suspected that the infirmarian would see little of his own bed until Thomas either recovered or died. He wanted to ease Henry’s burden as much as possible, although he suspected that Henry would still want to undertake most of Thomas’s care himself.

Henry informed them that Thomas had stirred from his unconsciousness when the bell had sounded for the afternoon meal, at around three o’clock — Bartholomew thought this was probably because of some deep-rooted instinct — but had found himself unable to talk. As he had been on the verge of confessing to being involved in something untoward, Bartholomew was sceptical about an illness that so conveniently deprived the offender of coherent speech. However, Thomas was so clearly terrified by the sudden impairment that his hysterical panic went a long way in convincing the physician that he was not bluffing.

Reluctant to go to his own room to rest while the sub-prior lay stricken and frightened, Henry agreed to lie on one of the infirmary’s spare beds for a while. Almost immediately he fell asleep; the long night of nursing Roger, plus the energy expended in tending Thomas, had left him exhausted.

‘Robert did not die easily,’ said Bartholomew to Michael in a low voice, when they were seated in one of the rooms at the end of the infirmary hall. From it, he could see Thomas in Henry’s chamber next door, and could also watch the old men. ‘He knew what was going to happen to him, and he fought hard.’

‘The others did not,’ said Michael. ‘At least, you did not mention that they had.’

‘They may have done, but there was no damage to their hands, as there is to Robert’s. But the others probably did not know what was in store for them — the killer may have ordered them to lie still and quiet, and promised to release them if they complied. But Robert, like everyone else in Ely now, was aware of how the killer works. He knew he was going to die as soon as his assailant had him helpless on the ground.’

‘That explains why the others died without a fight, and Robert did not. But it implies that the killer is no rogue stranger from outside the city; he is someone they all knew, if not trusted.’ Michael pursed his lips. ‘I wonder what Thomas was involved in? It must have been something dreadful, or he would not have had a near-fatal seizure when I questioned him about it.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Bartholomew cautiously.

‘Then what do you think?’ pressed Michael, aware of Bartholomew’s hesitation. ‘What was in that packet? And who gave it to him? It might have been a letter. Perhaps it was even the letter that resulted in William fleeing his priory with half its available cash.’

‘It may have been a letter,’ acknowledged Bartholomew. ‘Although it would have been quite a long one. It was no single sheet of parchment that changed hands in the vineyards last night.’

‘Damn it all!’ muttered Michael, pacing in the small room. ‘I was so determined that Thomas should not believe we were spying on him in the vineyard that I neglected to question him when I should have done. If I had accused him of lying when he first did it, we would not have had that unpleasant scene in the refectory today.’

‘No, we would have had it in one of the most remote corners of the monastery, which would have been far worse. But the man was ripe for a seizure anyway — we saw that last night when he was sweating and panting over that short walk from the priory. I suspect that the strain of being involved in subterfuge set him off, not you.’

‘That killer is growing bold, Matt,’ said Michael sombrely. ‘At first, he murdered secretly and in the depths of night, when all honest folk were in their beds, but today he struck in broad daylight.’

‘It was in broad daylight, but it was also in the vineyard — parts of which are very isolated — where the killer knew he would be unlikely to be disturbed.’