A Summer of Discontent

‘Ask me something else,’ insisted the pot-boy, plucking at Michael’s sleeve in an attempt to regain the monk’s attention. ‘I will be a much better source of information than Mackerell. Mind you, I am more expensive, too. Quality costs.’

‘Then what is the word about the three dead men?’ asked Michael testily.

The pot-boy considered for a moment. ‘Father John tells us that they were all murdered, but you will not find any tears spilled for them here. Personally, I think John is wrong, and that they just went the way of all evil men.’

‘Meaning?’ demanded Michael.

‘Meaning that the river reached out and took them,’ replied the boy simply. ‘That river knows a wicked soul when it sees one, and it made an end of Glovere, Chaloner and Haywarde.’

‘That sounds suspiciously like blaming water-spirits to me,’ said Michael.

‘It is not!’ claimed the pot-boy indignantly. ‘It is a completely different thing to believe in the power of the river and the existence of fairies.’ He turned to the men at the next table to support him. ‘Tell him I am right.’

‘He is right,’ agreed one of the men. ‘There is nothing fairy-like about our river. But personally, I think that outlaws invaded the town and killed the three men for their purses. We will ask the Bishop’s soldiers to mount more patrols until they are caught.’

Michael finished his ale and prepared to leave. ‘I doubt patrols will do any good. What Ely has is a cunning and ruthless killer on the loose. All I can say is that I hope none of you will be his next victim.’

He turned on his heel and stalked out, leaving a lot of worried faces behind him.

It was noon when Bartholomew returned to the priory to hunt for Brother Symon. As Michael had predicted, the librarian had hidden himself in a last-ditch attempt to disobey his Prior’s orders and prevent anyone from setting foot in his domain. Bartholomew searched the refectory, the dormitory, the cloisters and the cathedral, but the librarian seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

‘What is wrong with the man?’ asked Bartholomew, frustrated to think that there were books awaiting his attention, so close that he could almost see them, yet to which he was denied access because of a caretaker’s idiosyncrasies.

‘He is not a good librarian, and he does not want his shortcomings exposed,’ said Michael with a shrug. ‘His best strategy is not to allow anyone inside at all; thus his secret will be safe.’

‘I do not care if he keeps his books in wine barrels,’ said Bartholomew, exasperated. ‘I only want to read them. I will even put them back the way I found them.’

‘We will track him down,’ said Michael consolingly. ‘There are still one or two places you have not looked. We will check the infirmary, then the Prior’s chapel and perhaps the almonry.’

‘Why would he be in any of those?’

‘Because he thinks you will not look in them,’ replied Michael. He started to walk towards the infirmary, and Bartholomew fell into step beside him. ‘I am annoyed that we allowed Mackerell to escape from us so easily.’

‘You should not have stopped leaning on him. He could not have slipped away while he was pinned to the wall like a tapestry.’

‘Did he strike you as an honest man, Matt? Or did he seem the kind of person who might commit burglary?’

Bartholomew stared at him. ‘Do you think he is the man who is stealing from the merchants?’

‘Why not? And he killed Glovere, Chaloner and Haywarde when they caught him red-handed and threatened to tell.’

‘It is possible, I suppose,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Do you think he agreed to go to the Prior’s cells because matters are getting out of hand? That what started as simple thefts have become murder, a far more serious crime? Or because he really does know the identity of the killer, and thinks the prison is the only secure place for him?’

‘Well, I certainly do not believe in all that water-spirit nonsense. Still, we shall see when he appears tomorrow.’

‘If he appears tomorrow,’ said Bartholomew. ‘It seems to me that the interruption caused by that dog was very timely.’

‘What are you saying? That someone sent that wild mongrel into the inn to cause a disturbance and allow Mackerell to escape?’

Bartholomew thought it was possible. ‘We were beginning to break through his barrier of silence, and I think it would not have been long before he told us what he knew — and he definitely knows something.’

‘But that implies the gypsies are involved,’ Michael pointed out. ‘The dog was with them.’

‘Their appearance may have been coincidental, and merely saved someone else the trouble of opening the door and ushering the dog inside.’

‘But that means that this killer has eyes everywhere,’ said Michael uneasily. ‘I prefer to think of him slinking around the streets after dark — when we are safely in our beds — than following us around in broad daylight and preventing us from speaking to witnesses.’

‘There was something else odd about that encounter, too,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Eulalia has three brothers, but there were only two of them with her in the Mermaid.’