A Summer of Discontent

Michael gave a hollow smile. ‘But it is obvious nonetheless. Each of these men was last seen alone — walking home from a tavern. The killer lay in wait, and took them when they reached a spot where they could not call for help.’

‘But why these men?’ pressed John, as if they had all the answers. ‘They all knew each other, of course, but they did not associate, as far as I know.’

‘Did they have a common relative?’ asked Michael. ‘Did they frequent the same tavern?’

John shook his head, then nodded. ‘Well, yes, but there are only a few taverns in the city, so that means nothing. The Lamb sells the best beer, so men tend to congregate there, if they have money. But Chaloner had an undiscerning palate, and usually opted for the cheaper brews at the Mermaid.’

‘What about Richard de Leycestre?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Were they friends with him?’

‘Why do you ask about Leycestre?’ asked John suspiciously.

Bartholomew sighed impatiently. ‘Because he has been inciting the peasants to riot with his claims of injustice. We were barely through the gates before he approached us.’

‘What has that to do with anything?’ demanded John.

‘Perhaps these three were killed because they disagreed with Leycestre,’ suggested Bartholomew. ‘He is a committed man and it is possible that Glovere, Chaloner and Haywarde thought he was wrong.’

‘What did they think of Leycestre?’ pressed Michael. ‘Did they approve of his opinions?’

John shrugged nervously. ‘Glovere did not, because he was well paid by Lady Blanche, and earned a comfortable living. Haywarde and Chaloner did not care one way or the other, and would only have joined a fight when they were certain which side would win.’

‘That is what you said you would do,’ said Bartholomew, raising his eyebrows.

‘Are you sure these three deaths are unrelated to Leycestre?’ asked Michael, ignoring him. ‘He is determined to make Ely a centre for insurrection.’

‘I do not think he will succeed,’ said John. ‘The Bishop’s soldiers and the Prior’s men will stamp on any rebellion when the time is right. At the moment, each side is waiting to see whether such an uprising will harm the other, and hoping that it will work to their advantage.’

‘The feud between Bishop and Prior is that bitter?’ asked Bartholomew.

It was Michael who replied. ‘They do not like each other and they argue a good deal, but compared to most bishops and priors, de Lisle and Alan share a remarkably tolerant relationship.’

‘The monks seemed pleased that de Lisle was accused of murder,’ Bartholomew pointed out, recalling the glee with which the obnoxious Robert had reported the news to Michael.

‘Some are, but that is because it is only an accusation at the moment,’ said John. ‘If de Lisle were arrested and tried, you can be sure that the Church would close ranks and forget past differences. And anyway, in their heart of hearts, they know de Lisle is innocent, just as I do.’

‘Well, I am glad someone does,’ muttered Bartholomew, still not at all sure that the Bishop had no hand in the deaths of the three men.

‘So, your examination has proved that the Bishop is innocent,’ said John thoughtfully. ‘Because the method of killing is unusual, we know that all three were victims of the same person. De Lisle has no reason to want Chaloner and Haywarde dead — I doubt he knew they even existed — and so it stands to reason that he did not kill Glovere, either.’

Michael and Bartholomew exchanged a wary glance, realising that it did no such thing. Michael had already said that the Bishop was wily enough to have reasoned that for himself, and that he would not be above killing two more men in order to ‘prove’ his innocence in the death of the first. They said nothing, and John went on.

‘This is good news. I hope you will credit me with this discovery. After all, it was I who suggested that you should examine these other two corpses. The Bishop should know that it was due to my initiative that he is acquitted of this charge.’

‘We shall tell him,’ said Michael.

‘So, if the Bishop is not the killer, who is?’ asked John. ‘I am certain it is not Leycestre. He is not the kind of man who commits murder.’

‘Well, someone is,’ said Michael. He glanced at Bartholomew. ‘Was it a quick end, do you think?’

Bartholomew raised his hands, palms upwards. ‘I have never heard of anyone being killed like this before. But I doubt the victims lived long after the blade penetrated their necks. None of the wounds seems to have bled much, which indicates they did not die from loss of blood.’

‘Did it hurt?’ asked John, rubbing his own neck as if in sympathy.

‘Yes, probably,’ replied Bartholomew. ‘The marks on Glovere and Chaloner are not quite as neat as the one on Haywarde, suggesting that the killer did a little prodding before he found his mark. And then it would take considerable force to thrust the blade between the bones until it did its damage.’

‘But Haywarde’s wound looks as if the killer knew exactly where to push,’ said Michael, leaning forward to inspect the mark again.