fell to the ground, Bartholomew was left convinced that Harling’s prowess with the knife was no idle boast.
‘Father Philius had a more practical demonstration of my skills with sharp objects – he put up a fight when he realised my visit to his chamber was not to enquire after his health, but he died instantly once I decided he should. I was told it took you quite some time to discover what had happened to him.’
He smiled and Bartholomew felt sick. ‘You murdered Philius? That poor old friar only just out of his sickbed?’
‘He was asking too many questions,’ said Harling dismissively.
‘About the poisoned wine?’ asked Bartholomew, his bewildered mind trying to make sense of Harling’s revelations. ‘It was yours? But then why did Katherine Mortimer kill herself? I do not understand.’
‘That strong acidic poison was created in a small town in France where wolves are a particular problem. Its success has made it fairly well known to people interested in such things – I am sure one of Philius’s colleagues will have heard of it. That town in France happens to be where I spent quite some time in the service of the King – as many of my colleagues will know – and I did not want that particular association to be made. Now, do you believe I am as talented with blades as I say, or would you like yet another illustration?’
‘Where is Gray?’ asked Bartholomew numbly, his thoughts reeling. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘Gray is in a safe place,’ said Harling. ‘And you will not find him, so do not bother to look. And in return for his life, I require something from you.’
‘What?’ asked Bartholomew suspiciously, when Harling paused.
‘You and Brother Michael mentioned you had occasion to spirit a nun away from Denny Abbey. This nun had been asking questions of some of my colleagues in the Fens and they, foolishly, gave her some answers, thinking her to be some dim-witted ancient. I suspect she is anything but. I want to know where you have secreted her.’
‘Why?’
Harling made a grimace of impatience. ‘Do not act the fool with me, Bartholomew. Why do you think? I want her before she can pass this information to the Sheriff.’
‘But the Sheriff already knows what she has to say,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Brother Michael has passed him the information already.’
‘Liar!’ spat Harling. ‘All Michael did, after you and he went to whine to your friend the Sheriff about how you had been so viciously ambushed in the Fens, was go into All Saints’ Hostel for a drink. He needed to recover from the attempt on his life that another of my employees had so badly botched. And the nun certainly is not hidden in All Saints’. I checked.’
‘Michael suspected someone might be watching him, and so he left through the rear door,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He returned the same way, so that anyone watching would think he had been in All Saints’ the whole time. So, you see, the nun will be useless to you now. Where is Gray?’
‘There is no back door at All Saints’,’ sneered Harling. ‘If Brother Michael told you that, he is not telling you the truth.’
‘Michael has no cause to lie to me,’ said Bartholomew firmly. ‘The Sheriff knows all the nun has to tell.’
‘Then why does he sit uselessly in his castle, scratching his head like some stupid schoolboy?’ asked Harling. ‘Why is he not out with his men looking for me and my companions?’
‘He has been,’ replied Bartholomew. ‘He was out all of yesterday and the day before.’
His breath suddenly caught in his throat. Tulyet had said that he was still concerned that he did not have the outlaws who had been terrorising the roads around Cambridge. Was one of the outlaws Harling? Bartholomew was so confused he did not know what to think.
‘Then why am I still at large?’ asked Harling, smiling coldly as he read the physician’s thoughts. ‘And all the others who have been helping me? Why have we not been arrested? I tell you again, Bartholomew, if Brother Michael informed you that he passed Dame Pelagia’s list of names to Tulyet, then he is lying.’
‘Michael told Tulyet all she had to tell,’ insisted Bartholomew. He watched beads of rain slide off Harling’s greased hair, and the first seeds of doubt began to grow in his mind. If Dame Pelagia knew Harling to be a smuggler, then Michael most certainly had not told Tulyet: Harling was one of the few people in the town whose name was not on the list. Was Michael deliberately shielding the Vice-Chancellor in order to save the University from the embarrassment of having a criminal at its helm?
Harling raised his eyebrows, amused. ‘You are loyal to your friends, which is more than can be said for Brother Michael. He has lied to you, Bartholomew – he has told the Sheriff nothing. Now, where is Dame Pelagia?’
‘I do not know,’ stammered Bartholomew.
‘You are not good at deceit,’ said Harling, unimpressed by Bartholomew’s feeble attempt to lie. ‘In fact, you are almost as dreadful as Michael is accomplished. I see you still do not believe me. Michael is clever and ambitious: do you think he will allow your friendship to stand between him and his goals of power and wealth? Of course he will not! And a man who passes up the offer of the Mastership of Valence Marie to wait for something better is ambitious indeed! Michael is fully aware that the smuggling ring he uncovered involves high-ranking members of the hostels and the Colleges, and that to expose it would have been an embarrassment to the University.’
‘But he did expose it,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘Tulyet knows several heads of houses and eminent scholars who were involved.’
‘Really?’ asked Harling with heavy sarcasm. ‘Then why do you think he suggested his clever solution – warning people to give them more time to hide the fruits of their crimes – to Tulyet? Do you think it was to save the merchants? Of course it was not! It was for the benefit of silly scholars, like the greedy opportunists from Michaelhouse – Alcote, Paul, William and Runham – not to mention Colton from Gonville and Lynton from Peterhouse.’
‘But the scholars were not treated differently from the merchants,’ said Bartholomew.
‘That is patently untrue!’ snapped Harling. ‘It is the merchants who will pay the heavy taxes the King will impose when he learns of this, not the University. And while the merchants’ actions will be bandied about for all to hear, the scholars’ role will be downplayed. As I said, Michael will not want the University embarrassed by this affair, because what embarrasses the University will embarrass its patron, the King. Do you think Michael will risk the wrath of the King when his greedy sights are set so high? Be honest with yourself, Bartholomew! Will he?’
Bartholomew swallowed. He was uncertain. Michael
‘Michael told Tulyet he could provide him with the names of these smugglers,’ he said, thinking quickly. ‘Tulyet sent him to do it immediately. Do you think the Sheriff would have let the matter drop if Michael had failed to come up with the information he wanted?’
‘I think Michael fed Tulyet false information,’ said Harling with a shrug. ‘I believe he sat in All Saints’ Hostel, guzzling their wine, and made up a list of names that would send Tulyet on a wild-goose chase.’
‘That was no wild-goose chase,’ said Bartholomew. ‘A good many Fenland smugglers were caught. If Michael’s intelligence was false, how did Tulyet know to arrest them?’
‘But Michael’s so-called intelligence was all but worthless to Tulyet,’ said Harling in exasperation. ‘Tulyet is still seeking those he considers more dangerous than peddlers of figs, and shabby little Fenmen.’
‘And you consider yourself something better, I suppose,’ said Bartholomew, wearied by Harling’s accusations, and with a sick feeling gnawing at the back of his mind that somewhere in the Vice-Chancellor’s story there might be a grain of truth.
‘Of course I am something more!’ snapped Harling. ‘My interests extend further than cheap gloves from France. Unlike you, it seems.’ He gave Bartholomew’s hands a disparaging glance.
‘But why are you doing this?’ cried Bartholomew suddenly, looking at the University’s second-in-command as his mind failed to make any sense of what the man was telling him. ‘You are the Vice-Chancellor!’
‘Precisely,’ spat Harling. ‘
