A Summer of Discontent

‘But I know Alan, and so it is reasonable for me to make such assertions,’ said Michael defensively. ‘Alan is not a killer, Matt. At least, I do not think so.’

‘Then we will keep him on our list until you are sure. What about the others? Perhaps Symon kills anyone who wants to read the priory’s books.’

Michael laughed. ‘I am sure he would like to. We will keep him on our list, though, because he is always plotting and hatching plans that will see him promoted to a higher rank. They are usually unsuccessful, but it is possible that practice has made perfect. He must have engaged in serious subterfuge to secure himself the post of librarian — I cannot imagine he was appointed because he is a keen proponent of education.’

‘What about Henry?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘He is a physician, and would know where to place a knife so it would kill.’

‘Never,’ declared Michael. ‘He is one of the most gentle, kindest men I have ever known. Look how patient he is with that Julian.’

‘Julian,’ said Bartholomew immediately. ‘Now there is someone with a murderous personality. He is nasty, enjoys the suffering of others, and has no compassion.’

Michael nodded slowly. ‘And his work in the hospital may well have provided him with the kind of knowledge necessary to kill with stealth — not learned from Henry, obviously, but from studying and reading.’

‘So, those are the churchmen,’ summarised Bartholomew. ‘Bishop de Lisle, Prior Alan, Sub-prior Thomas, Hosteller William, Almoner Robert, Symon the librarian and Julian. Then there are the townsfolk: Leycestre and his nephews.’

‘And that Agnes Fitzpayne seems more angry about the inconvenience of Haywarde’s death than grief-stricken. She is strong enough to overpower a man.’

‘She is a heavy-boned lady,’ agreed Bartholomew.

Michael shot him a sharp glance, then went on. ‘We must not forget those gypsies, either. Leycestre believes they are the culprits. Perhaps we should pay them a visit: you look as though you need a little diversion after poking at those vile corpses, and I am sure you would be only too willing to spend more time in the company of the attractive Eulalia.’

‘And finally, we cannot rule out the possibility that someone in Lady Blanche’s household might be committing the murders, simply to wreak havoc and confusion in de Lisle’s domain,’ said Bartholomew, thinking that a visit to the gypsy camp would indeed be a pleasant way to pass an afternoon.

Michael sniggered. ‘Like Tysilia, you mean? You placed her at the head of a list of suspects once before, and it led you nowhere. Do not fall into the same trap a second time.’

Bartholomew rubbed a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense out of the meagre facts they had accumulated. ‘Most of these suspects are on our list only because we have made the assumption that they want de Lisle accused of murder so he will be discredited. However, it seems to me that someone has gone to a good deal of trouble to ensure that Glovere, Chaloner and Haywarde did not look as though they were murdered.’

‘That is true. They were rolled into the river so that it would be assumed that they had had an accident or committed suicide.’

‘And that implies that these men were not killed in order to have de Lisle accused of murder, but for some other reason,’ concluded Bartholomew.

Michael pursed his lips and frowned. ‘But what? Apart from the fact that no one liked them — Glovere was a malcontent, Chaloner married the wrong woman and Haywarde was an idle, drunken bully — we have uncovered nothing that links them together.’

‘They were all townsmen,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Perhaps that is where we should start. We have become side-tracked by the accusation levelled at de Lisle by Blanche, but I think these deaths may have nothing to do with your Bishop or the priory. They may just be the result of some falling out between these three men and their drinking cronies.’

‘Well, that will be easy enough to find out,’ said Michael confidently. ‘I am used to investigating very complex crimes, and no Ely resident will be able to outwit me for long.’

‘That may be so,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But you are assuming that people will talk to you. These are folk in a small community, who are protective of each other, and they will not be given to revealing their secrets to outsiders. You may find yourself unable to gather enough information to deduce anything — no matter how clever you are.’

Michael sighed. ‘So, you are telling me that I might never solve these murders?’

‘It is possible,’ said Bartholomew. ‘You have enjoyed success so far, and have found a culprit for every murder you have looked into. But there may come a time when you fail.’

‘No,’ vowed Michael. ‘I will solve this. Unless I come up with an answer, my Bishop will be stained with this charge for ever, and then what would happen?’

‘You would remain a proctor for the rest of your life, and de Lisle would end his days in some remote friary, far away from the King and his court and the centre of power.’