A Summer of Discontent

Meanwhile, Michael discovered that Barbour was wrong in his prediction that Mackerell would be at the Mermaid. The inn was deserted and locked, and a friendly bargeman told him that it tended to be closed during afternoons at harvest time, because most of its patrons were in the fields. The monk strolled back to the priory, where he spent the rest of the day in the chapter house, enjoying the pleasant chill of its shady stone interior and chatting to other Benedictines who knew that it was the best place to be on a day when the sun was hot enough to fry eggs.

Towards the end of the afternoon, Almoner Robert also arrived to take advantage of the chapter house’s cool. He tripped over a step when he entered, blinded by the sudden darkness after the blaze of light outside, and Michael heard the distinctive jangle of coins bouncing together in his scrip. He suspected that the almoner was not carrying his small fortune to give to the poor, but that he intended to use it for some purpose that would benefit himself. Robert was that kind of monk. Hosteller William watched Robert carefully, and Michael saw that the clash of coins had not gone unnoticed by him, either.

Michael had disliked both men since they had all been novices together. Robert was self-interested and dishonest even then, while William had been secretive and difficult to understand. Their lives had not been improved by the vast, looming presence of Thomas, who rewarded those youngsters who told tales about the others, creating an atmosphere of suspicion and unease.

Then a young man called John de Bukton — who, like Welles, was always referred to by the name of his village, because there were so many Johns in the priory — chattered away to Michael, revealing that his own experiences as a novice at Ely were much the same as Michael’s had been. Sub-prior Thomas’s rule was still based on a system of favourites, and most youngsters were unhappy and uncertain about a future with the Benedictine Order. Michael was startled to learn that William was sympathetic to their grievances and that the novices turned to him, rather than to Alan or Robert, who tended to be dismissive of their complaints. The novices liked Henry, too, because he was patient and soft-hearted, and often shared with them the ale he brewed himself. Michael was not surprised that Henry was popular with the youngsters, recalling Henry’s many acts of kindness when he had been a novice.

Once the sun had set and the day was cooler, Michael went to see whether Bartholomew wanted to visit the Mermaid Inn. Bartholomew, however, was deeply engrossed in treating one of Henry’s patients who had a rasping cough, and the monk knew he would never prise him away for a mere murder investigation. He went to the Mermaid with Cynric and Meadowman instead, but although they passed an enjoyable evening, Mackerell did not appear.

The following day broke clear and bright, with the sun soaring into the sky and flooding the cathedral with light at prime. Michael noticed that Bartholomew deliberately avoided the office — he knew the physician had not over-slept, because that was impossible in a priory with dozens of bells chiming and clanging to announce each rite and a hundred monks hurrying around the precinct.

Cynric had somehow learned that Mackerell planned to take his breakfast in the Mermaid Inn that morning, and Michael was determined to speak to the man. He found Bartholomew in the infirmary, arguing about bunions with Henry, and suggested they go to see him together.

‘Who knows where he may disappear if he learns we want to question him?’ he added.

‘Why would he disappear anywhere?’ asked Bartholomew. His early morning discussion had irritated him. Henry was very willing to dispense his own ideas, but was considerably less willing to listen to anyone else’s, once he had had his say. It was a fault Bartholomew had encountered in other physicians, and was not a trait he admired. ‘We only want to know what he saw when he discovered the bodies. We are not accusing him of putting them there.’

‘That depends on what he knows,’ said Michael. ‘He is said to be another of Ely’s less appealing characters. Perhaps a fourth malcontent murdered the other three.’

Bartholomew did not reply, feeling that Michael was grasping at straws in his determination to see the case solved, and they walked in silence through the priory grounds towards the Steeple Gate. They had not gone far when a commotion caught their attention.

‘Now what?’ muttered Michael, watching the new arrivals in disapproval. ‘Is another Blanche arriving, to throw the priory into a state of emergency ingratiation? It made me sick on Sunday to watch the obsequious fawning by the likes of Robert and William.’