An Order for Death

been discussing the term’s debating titles for all you know.’

‘In a convent that has a reputation for lewd behaviour? In the middle of the night? Without informing the Senior Proctor?’ Michael gave a snort of derision. ‘Do not speak drivel, Matt!’

‘Whatever it was must have been important,’ said Matilde thoughtfully. ‘Why else would such men risk going to a place like that at night? Still, I suppose it has the virtue of being the last place anyone would think of looking for them.’

‘Ask whether Yolande can recall anything that may help me,’ instructed Michael. ‘This case is quite baffling, and any information would be gratefully received.’

‘I can do better than that,’ said Matilde. ‘I have been feeling tired and bored lately, and I am in sore need of something to stimulate my wits. I think a brief sojourn at St Radegund’s might be exactly what is required.’

‘I do not think so,’ said Bartholomew uneasily. ‘It is not the kind of place you would enjoy at all. And anyway, I thought you did not like Tysilia.’

‘I do not,’ said Matilde. ‘And that is even more reason for me to pit my wits against hers and see whether her appalling stupidity is genuine.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Michael.

Matilde spread her hands. ‘What I say. I find it extraordinary that someone could be so dim-witted, and I cannot help but wonder whether it is a ruse to hide a very cunning mind.’

‘I thought the same thing,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I was even considering the possibility that she played some kind of role in these nocturnal meetings.’

‘I hardly think so!’ exclaimed Michael in disbelief. ‘Such as what?’

‘I do not know,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But she is the Bishop’s niece, and the Bishop would not be averse to using a relative to help him in his various plots.’

‘True, but not someone who genuinely believes that the moon is made of green cheese and that leaves fall from the trees in autumn because they are tired of holding on to the branch,’ said Michael. ‘She is just too stupid – an intelligent person would know she was overacting and moderate her performance to one that was more plausible.’

‘I disagree,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I think she is sitting in St Radegund’s at this very moment laughing to herself, because she thinks she has fooled you.’

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Matilde. She beamed suddenly, and clasped her hands in front of her. ‘But she will not fool me, and this is just the kind of challenge that will provide me with the kind of diversion I need. It is an excellent idea. I wish it had occurred to me earlier.’

‘It is a terrible idea,’ said Bartholomew firmly. ‘Michael is right: the time and place of these meetings suggests that they were not held to discuss something innocent, and that is precisely the reason why you should not go.’

‘They probably will not let you in, anyway,’ said Michael. ‘Even St Radegund’s cannot risk having the unofficial spokeswoman of the town’s prostitutes as a guest.’

Matilde grinned conspiratorially. ‘Do you recall when you invited me to the Founder’s Feast at Michaelhouse a couple of years ago, Matthew? You should remember – we were virtually the only ones who were sober at the end of it.’

Bartholomew smiled, although most Founder’s Feasts at Michaelhouse ended with everyone face down on the table, and his memories of them tended to blend together. But he recalled this one. ‘You dressed as an old woman called Mistress Horner, because you did not want anyone to know who you were.’

Matilde raised her eyebrows. ‘I disguised myself because you were worried about inviting a courtesan to dine in your college, and because you had invited that murdering Eleanor Tyler as well. She abandoned you for the more appealing attentions of your students, if I recall correctly.’

‘All right, all right,’ grumbled Bartholomew, not wanting to be reminded about that particular adventure. ‘What has the Founder’s Feast to do with you going to St Radegund’s?’

‘It is not I who will sojourn there,’ said Matilde simply. ‘It is Mistress Horner.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Bartholomew. ‘It is too dangerous. What if they intrude on you while you are in bed and learn that Mistress Horner’s ample middle owes itself to a couple of cushions, or that her wrinkles disappear in water?’

‘I will make sure that does not happen.’

‘The good nuns might not want fat old ladies in their convent,’ Michael pointed out.

‘They will accept my offer of five groats for board and lodging,’ said Matilde mischievously. ‘They would agree to anything for five groats.’

‘That is true,’ admitted Michael. ‘They would.’

‘You cannot do this,’ said Bartholomew firmly. ‘If we are right, and Tysilia’s stupidity conceals a cunning mind that is involved in the murder of Michael’s Junior Proctor, then it is simply too risky. I cannot let you do it.’

‘Are you concerned for my safety, Matthew?’ asked Matilde playfully. ‘Or for my virtue?’

‘Your safety,’ replied Bartholomew immediately. He faltered when he realised what his words had implied, and flushed when Michael and Matilde laughed at him.

‘Are you sure you do not mind doing this?’ asked Michael of Matilde. ‘I cannot see how else I will be able to cut through the veil of secrecy and lies that those nuns have thrown over their activities. They may be perfectly innocent – well, as innocent as running a brothel in a convent can be – and we may be on the wrong path altogether.’

‘Then I will find out,’ said Matilde confidently. ‘And I will expose that Tysilia as a liar and a cheat, if that is what she is.’

‘I cannot believe you are encouraging her to do this,’ said Bartholomew to Michael.

Matilde sighed, and laid an elegant hand on Bartholomew’s arm. ‘Do not worry so, Matthew. I will be perfectly safe. As a fat and unattractive matron, I am unlikely to be invited to take part in anything too exotic, and all I plan to do is listen and watch. It will only be for a few days, anyway.’

‘If you discover anything, tell us immediately,’ advised Michael. ‘Do not deal with it yourself. Matt or I will visit St Radegund’s every day, and you can indicate then whether all is well.’

Matilde’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of an adventure. ‘Do not ask to see me personally, or they will be suspicious. I will pretend to be deaf, so that they will think they do not need to lower their voices around me. So, if you see me cupping both hands around my ears, you will know it is a sign that I have nothing to report; if I fiddle with a ring on my finger, it means I wish to speak with you privately.’

‘I do not like this at all,’ said Bartholomew. ‘If Tysilia is the kind of woman we suspect she is, then you will not be safe; she will quickly guess what you are doing. There must be another way to look into her dealings.’

‘I can think of none,’ said Michael. ‘And time is passing. The longer we take to apprehend this killer, the less likely it is that we shall catch him. Do you want Will’s murderer to go free?’

‘Of course not, but–’

‘I will be perfectly all right,’ said Matilde. ‘And, as I said, such an adventure will help me rouse myself from the lethargy that has been dogging me since the beginning of Lent. I am feeling better already: I have a challenge to rise to, and Easter is almost here.’ She stood on tiptoe and quickly kissed Bartholomew’s cheek. ‘I promise to be careful, and you must promise to do the same. But together, we will see Will’s killer brought to justice.’

She was gone in the gathering dusk before Bartholomew could voice any further objections, and he suspected they would be futile anyway. Matilde had made up her mind, and he knew that there was nothing he could say or do to prevent her from going ahead with her plans. He watched her walk away, thinking about how dear she had become to him over the last few years.

Michael yawned hugely. ‘It has been a long day, and I am exhausted. Tomorrow, we will interview Morden of the Dominicans – I want to know more about those six student friars whom you drove away from Faricius – but tonight I only want a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.’

‘And we should talk to Prior Pechem of the Franciscans, too,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He may tell us why he was at these meetings.’

Michael rubbed his chin. ‘I agree. But we must do so with care. I do not want to alarm this coven into silence. I was afraid to question Lincolne too vigorously about the meetings, and I am reluctant to interrogate Pechem for the same reason. If they close ranks, we might never have the truth from them. To find out what we