look to him for deliverance.’
‘He is waiting nearby with an armed detachment,’ said Michael, with admirable cool.
‘Of course he is,’ sneered Harling. He gestured to the sergeant. ‘And this is one of them. Far from ambushing me, Tulyet has been drawn away to where he will fall into a trap himself.’
Edward Mortimer shifted nervously, casting a quick glance towards the street. ‘He speaks the truth. The Sheriff has been enticed to the river, where our men in his ranks will turn on him.’ He looked at Harling. ‘But nevertheless we should not stay here longer than necessary. Kill them now and let us be away.’
‘You are monsters!’ whispered Matilde, gazing from Edward to Harling. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘The usual reason, madam,’ said Harling. ‘I am weary of giving. It is time to take.’
‘You will not get far,’ said Michael. ‘Cheating the King of his taxes will be regarded as treason. You will never be safe from him.’
‘Rubbish!’ said Harling. ‘I have purchased a pleasant manor in the north country – under a different name of course – and will spend the rest of my days enjoying the proceeds of this most lucrative winter. I had hoped that Katherine Mortimer might be able to enjoy it with me, but, unfortunately, circumstances dictated otherwise.’
‘How can you have accrued such wealth in so short a time?’ said Michael in disbelief. ‘A few figs and the odd pomegranate cannot make a man’s fortune.’
‘Foolish monk!’ said Harling, his eyes glinting silvery black in the candlelight. ‘Do you think I would waste my time with fruit? That is for the poor devils who lurk about in the marshes with their pathetic little punts and their sacks of ancient oranges. And, anyway, I have been engaged in this business since last September – the day after half-wits like you voted for Tynkell instead of me.’
‘What about poisoned wine?’ asked Michael. ‘There is probably a lucrative market for that.’
‘I daresay there is,’ said Harling. ‘But I do not peddle poisoned wine. I merely had a dozen bottles – specially prepared with a strong French poison – delivered to present to a few of my acquaintances before I left. Among others, I planned to give one to Chancellor Tynkell; one to you, Brother, for leaching away my power as Vice- Chancellor; one to Master Bingham of Valence Marie who spoke out against me so unfairly when I stood for election – although Rob Thorpe almost saved me the trouble by having him indicted of Grene’s murder. Unfortunately, neither Physwick Hostel nor St Mary’s Church are places I could hide such gifts, and so I was forced to store them with the Mortimers. Half were promptly stolen, and I had to go to extraordinary lengths to get them back, so they would not be traced to me before I was ready to leave. You must admit I was thorough.’
‘Oh, very,’ said Michael heavily. ‘You arranged for Armel to be buried early to prevent too close an examination of his body; you, Katherine and Edward stole the four bottles from Matt’s room at Michaelhouse, then you went to Gonville, where you retrieved the fifth one and killed Isaac; you killed Philius when he began asking questions about poisons at his Friary; and you killed Sacks.’
‘I most certainly did not kill Isaac,’ said Harling indignantly. ‘That was Katherine and Edward. As Bartholomew observed earlier today, I have some skill with knives, and I would not have resorted to hitting the man on the head. While they were doing that, I was innocently searching the kitchens for the wine, unaware that murder had been done.’
‘But you helped us hang him once I had knocked him senseless,’ said Edward wearily. ‘You were not as entirely innocent of the affair as you would have them believe.’
‘And it was you who attacked Matt in Philius’s room,’ said Michael. ‘Why did you not stab him then – and Philius, for that matter – to save yourself the trouble later?’
‘Would that I had,’ said Harling, not without bitterness. ‘But I was interested only in retrieving the wine at that point, and thought I was being merciful in sparing your lives. I knew if I started a fire in Philius’s room, Bartholomew would feel obliged to stay to ensure his patient was not burned to a cinder, thus allowing me the opportunity to escape.’
‘Sacks stole six bottles from you, but we found only five,’ said Bartholomew. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the pressure of Langelee’s weight from his chest, but the sergeant swung his crossbow in his direction, and Langelee’s foot pushed down harder still. ‘Where is the last one?’
‘It was with Sacks when I killed him,’ said Harling dismissively. ‘Unfortunately, it was smashed in the fight we had, before he expressed a curious desire to see the inside of Master Cheney’s salt barrel. I had planned to dump that barrel in the marshes, but that is no longer necessary now you have discovered its secrets.’ He brushed imaginary specks of dust from his gown.
‘Did you desecrate Egil’s body to hide the fact that it was he who brought you the wine?’ asked Michael. ‘Because his hands and face were blistered from touching it?’
‘At last!’ said Harling. ‘You have been uncommonly slow in dealing with the few facts that have trickled your way. Perhaps the rain has rotted your minds. When Cynric so kindly informed me where you had left Egil’s corpse, I went to claim it, knowing that you would notice the blisters on his hands and face in the cold light of day. Unfortunately, he was very heavy. I hauled him as far as I could, and then settled for the easier option of removing the incriminating parts – the burns from where he had touched the bottles as he brought them across the Fens from France. You were supposed to think he was savaged by a wild animal.’
‘Very selective wild animal,’ muttered Bartholomew. ‘Taking only hands and head.’
Michael moved restlessly, and the candlelight glittered on the ornate crucifix he had worn since the installation. Bartholomew saw it had caught Harling’s eye, too, and suddenly the Vice-Chancellor’s business in the Fens became crystal clear. He had said, quite clearly, that he was not interested in clothes and fruit, and that he considered himself in a league far beyond all the other casual opportunists. And, when Bartholomew saw him looking at Michael’s cross, Bartholomew knew exactly what the Vice-Chancellor’s trade had been.
‘Treasure,’ he exclaimed. ‘You are smuggling treasure!’
‘Good again,’ said Harling appraisingly. ‘Gold and silver is indeed what my companions and I have been smuggling. It was astonishingly easy: boats were available; pilots were ready to be hired to take the cargo through the Fens; and officials had been bribed so many times before that they had not the slightest qualm about being bought into silence again.’
‘But where does it come from?’ asked Bartholomew. He tried to rise, but Langelee’s foot was immovable.
‘It comes from Brittany,’ said Michael in sudden understanding. ‘Oswald Stanmore and I were telling you only the other day how hostilities between England and France might have died down, but that the war is still very much in progress in Brittany: there have been many reports of bands of the King’s men roaming the country to attack villages and religious houses.’
‘And you are buying the treasures from these sacked religious houses and smuggling them into England?’ asked Bartholomew of Harling. He answered his own question. ‘Items like Philius’s collection of crucifixes, the handsome chalices at Valence Marie and the gold plate at Denny are all objects monasteries and convents would own – and that would be easy for looters to carry away.’
‘I had surmised as much,’ said Dame Pelagia casually. ‘When I saw that gold plate on which the Abbess served us cakes, I knew it was nothing the Countess had donated. It was Italian and the Countess is not an admirer of Italian craftsmanship.’
‘It is really very simple,’ said Harling. ‘There is no market for plundered church plate in Brittany, and so, unless the soldiers doing the ransacking do not mind donating their treasure to the King’s bottomless coffers, the only way they can profit from their hard work is by selling it to me – cheaply, of course. I then bring it to England where I can sell it at a suitably inflated price. You bought something of mine, I see, Brother.’
Harling eyed Michael’s gold cross again. Michael looked shifty, but did not offer to return it. Harling went on.
‘Philius bought some, too, which I later reclaimed. But I know when to stop, and I have more than enough wealth to keep me and my companions comfortable for the rest of our lives. Of late, I have been unable to control the soldiers I hired to bring the treasure through the Fens. They began to attack travellers on the roads and then even places in the town – like the Round Church and St Clement’s Hostel. It would have been unfortunate to have them recognised as the perpetrators of these crimes while they were visiting me on business.’
‘So it was you who sent them to kill us in the Fens?’ asked Michael.
‘You are tenacious when it comes to mysteries,’ said Harling smoothly. ‘I knew it would be only a matter of time before your investigation of the poisoned wine led you to me – or to one of my companions who would not have had the nerve to brazen it out. When you did not accept that Bingham had murdered Grene – as Eligius very
