A Summer of Discontent

Michael regarded them through narrowed eyes. ‘That is what I have been doing — while you have been pestering Henry or enjoying the ale in the city’s taverns. What has changed?’

‘There is no need to be defensive,’ said Northburgh with a dreamy smile. ‘We are only offering to stand back and give you full rein to do as you please. But I am weary. I think I shall retire to bed.’

He turned and walked away, with Stretton lumbering behind him. He tripped over the doorstep, and Stretton made a clumsy lunge to save him that had them both staggering. Their chuckles echoed across the courtyard as they made their way to the Black Hostry, arm in arm. Michael stared after them in amazement. Bartholomew laughed.

‘Ely’s bona cervisia is powerful stuff indeed, if it can turn that ill-matched pair into friends.’

Michael grimaced. ‘Alan and Blanche were insane to hire either of them. That de Lisle chose me shows him to be a man of impeccable judgement. Unlike you. What were you thinking of by agreeing for me to meet Tysilia at midnight?’

‘I am sorry, Brother, but she was intractable. I do not want to wander the priory in the dead of night with a killer on the loose, either, but she said she would only tell you what she knows.’

‘What she knows!’ snorted Michael in disgust. ‘She knows nothing!’

‘You cannot be sure,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘William may have let something slip about his plans. She will not know she possesses this important information, of course. It will have to be prised from her by someone who is an experienced and gifted investigator.’

‘Perhaps,’ admitted Michael, succumbing to the flattery as he reached for a dish of stewed onions. ‘But I would be happier doing it tomorrow, in daylight. You should have tried harder to dissuade her from insisting on such an hour. How will you feel if someone murders us?’

‘Dead, I imagine,’ replied Bartholomew.

Michael ignored him. ‘We have assumed the killer is a man, but what if it is a woman? It may be Tysilia herself, and here we are meeting her in a remote place at the witching hour!’

‘First, there are two of us, and I am sure we can manage Tysilia. Second, the door to the Outer Hostry is not a remote place. It is relatively public.’

‘Not at that time of night,’ complained Michael. He finished the stew and snatched up a jellied eel and a slice of cheese, eating alternate bites. ‘But what do you think of Tysilia as our killer, Matt? There is plenty of evidence to incriminate her.’

Bartholomew laughed in astonishment. ‘There is not! I suppose you think that her clandestine meetings with William count against her?’

‘They do,’ agreed Michael. ‘William disappeared after curious assignations with this woman. Meanwhile, she claims he is her brother, while we know perfectly well he is not. And you do not steal valuable chalices to give to your sibling, Matt: you steal them to give to your paramour.’

‘You seem to know a lot about this,’ remarked Bartholomew. ‘What has she brought you?’

Michael made an irritable sound at the back of his throat. ‘This is no joking matter. We questioned Tysilia’s involvement in a case once before, unless you have forgotten. It is possible she is imbued with a certain animal cunning behind all that empty-headed prattling.’

‘She is certainly imbued with feral emotions, but cunning is not one of them. She is an innocent, Brother, not capable of carrying out complex murders. William spun her some tale about kinship, and she believed it because she longs to escape from people who keep her wild behaviour under control.’

‘Imagine what she would be like if they did not,’ muttered Michael with a shudder.

‘She is gullible and vulnerable, and easy prey for a clever man like William. He doubtless saw that seducing her would be far too simple-’

‘It would not!’ interrupted Michael fervently. ‘He would never manage to seduce her before she had seduced him!’

‘-and so he decided to adopt a different approach. By claiming kinship, he demanded a loyalty that she would never have afforded a mere lover. She spied on Blanche, and she stole for someone she thought was her brother. But that is all. She is not our killer, and if you think so, then you are as addled as she is.’

‘You are the addled one — for agreeing to meet her in the dead of night. It is just an excuse to entice me out alone, so that she can force her attentions on me.’

‘I am sure you can look after yourself,’ said Bartholomew, trying not to laugh at the image of Michael as the besieged virgin.

‘You suggested that William was the killer, and now you make arrangements for us to meet his accomplice in the dark,’ Michael went on, unwilling to let matters lie. ‘How do you know she has not been given the task of luring us out, so that he can kill us both?’

‘It would be hard to kill two people at the same time. We will not lie down obediently while William murders one in front of the other. And it was only a passing suggestion as regards William as the culprit, anyway. I suspect he is already dead.’