An Order for Death

Michael sighed impatiently. ‘Lynne. He was here when we first visited you.’

‘Oh, him,’ said Tysilia, bored with her sewing and coming to join them. She knelt down and began to pet a cat that lay in front of the fire. Her attentions were rough, and the animal’s fur was vigorously combed the wrong way. It was not long before it fled to the sanctuary of Matilde’s lap. ‘Lynne is a dull youth. He lives with the Carmelites on Milne Street.’

‘What was he doing here the first time we came?’ asked Michael.

Eve’s expression was unreadable. ‘He came to visit his aunt.’

‘You mean he came to avail himself of your services?’ asked Timothy bluntly.

Eve smiled enigmatically. ‘He came to visit his aunt,’ she repeated.

‘I want to know more about these meetings that Walcote arranged,’ said Michael, seeing that Eve was not prepared to be more forthcoming about Lynne. ‘I want to know exactly how many of them there were, and I want to know exactly when they occurred.’

‘But I have told you all I know,’ said Eve with a sigh. ‘How many more times do you want me to say the same thing? Walcote hired our chamber eight or nine times. I observed several men whom I thought I recognised and whose names I have already told you. I do not know what they discussed, and I cannot recall specific dates.’

‘Dame Martyn did not tell the King’s Commissioners about the money Walcote gave her,’ supplied Tysilia helpfully. ‘She did not want to give them any of it for tax, so she never wrote anything down in case they saw it.’

‘Thank you, Tysilia,’ said Eve coldly. ‘Now be quiet, and do your sewing.’

‘Can you recall just one date?’ pressed Michael, turning his attention back to Eve.

Eve shook her head. ‘Although I would not have mentioned it myself, Tysilia is right. We did not record the money Walcote paid us, because we did not want to be penalised for it when the tax collectors come. Therefore we have no way to check dates and times. All I know is that the second one was around late November, because we had been able to mend the roof – using gold coins I grabbed from Master Runham’s icon. It was still leaking when he first came.’

‘And times?’ urged Michael. ‘How late?’

‘Well after dark, but not before matins. I suppose they were all some time between nine o’clock and midnight.’

‘And you never eavesdropped, to try to learn why the Junior Proctor and the heads of the religious Orders met here in the middle of the night?’

Eve shook her head firmly. ‘What if I had been caught with my ear to the door? Walcote would not have used our room again, and that money was very useful. Too much was at stake for me to risk it for mere curiosity.’

‘I listened,’ said Tysilia, beaming at them. She ignored Eve’s heavy sigh of exasperation at her orders for silence being disobeyed. ‘I wanted to know when they would be finished, so that I could be ready for them when they came out.’

Bartholomew saw Matilde hiding her laughter by pretending to inspect her sewing at close range, so that it covered her face.

‘They chattered endlessly about whether things have names, and they talked about mending the Great Bridge, because Prior Lincolne once fell through it,’ Tysilia went on. ‘He is a fat man, like you, Brother, and I expect he was too heavy for it.’

‘This is becoming intolerable,’ muttered Michael. ‘I am not fat.’

‘What else did you hear?’ asked Timothy, addressing her reluctantly.

‘Nothing. I was bored and went to bed,’ said Tysilia carelessly. ‘They were a lot of gasbags, repeating themselves and muttering about tedious things. The only interesting one was that young man with the nice fingernails. But he only came to the last meeting – the one that was held a day or two before Walcote died.’

‘And who might he be?’ asked Michael, trying to imagine which of the religious heads paid attention to his manicure. Neither he nor Bartholomew recalled any of them as notably clean.

‘He has good calves and a handsome face,’ offered Tysilia.

‘That is not very helpful,’ said Michael. ‘How are we supposed to guess who came to these meetings based on the fact that you found him attractive?’

‘Well, I suppose I could tell you his name,’ suggested Tysilia. ‘Would that help?’

‘For God’s sake, woman,’ snapped Michael, exasperated. ‘Tell us!’

‘His name is Richard Stanmore,’ said Tysilia, smiling her vacant smile.

‘What do you think, Matthew?’ asked Timothy as they left St Radegund’s Convent and started to walk along the causeway towards Barnwell Priory, where Michael suggested they might find Lynne. ‘Is your nephew the kind of man to embroil himself in a plot to kill Brother Michael the instant he arrives home?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Bartholomew bitterly. ‘I no longer know him. But when all is said and done, he loves his parents dearly, and I cannot see him becoming involved in something that might hurt them – as his being implicated in a murder certainly would. But I know that Tysilia is telling the truth when she says she knows him.’

‘She is?’ asked Michael, surprised. ‘How do you know?’

‘Because Richard had Matilde’s pendant,’ replied Bartholomew. ‘She mentioned last time that Tysilia had stolen it, and then I recognised it when Richard pulled it from his pocket in the Cardinal’s Cap this morning. Tysilia must have given it to him.’

Michael nodded slowly. ‘You are doubtless right.’

Bartholomew sighed as a few more pieces of the puzzle came together. ‘I should have seen this before. Eve said she took Tysilia to Bedford, to keep her occupied for a few days, and Bedford is between Oxford and Cambridge. We all know that travellers gather in large parties when they take to the roads. It is obvious that Richard joined Tysilia’s group, and that is how they met.’

‘Are you sure about this?’ asked Timothy uncertainly.

‘No,’ admitted Bartholomew. ‘But Eve told us Tysilia misbehaved on the homeward journey, which was about two weeks ago. Richard arrived in Cambridge at about the same time.’

Michael thought for a moment, then said, ‘This means that Tysilia met Richard at least twice – once in Bedford and once when he attended Walcote’s last meeting here. However, you treated Dame Martyn for drunkenness the morning after Walcote was killed, and Tysilia was there. Surely you would have noticed had they recognised each other?’

‘Then there are two possibilities,’ said Bartholomew, after a moment of thought. ‘First, it may suggest that Tysilia and Richard did not acknowledge their prior acquaintance for sinister reasons. Or, second, it may be because Richard wore a scarf over his nose to mask the smell of pigs; Tysilia did not see his face and so did not recognise him.’

Timothy raised his eyebrows. ‘The first theory suggests she is your cunning demon; the second that she is even more lacking in wits than I imagined.’

Michael frowned. ‘If Richard had tampered with her on their Bedford journey, he would not want Tysilia squealing a delighted greeting in front of all those disapproving nuns. It would be in his interest to keep himself hidden.’

‘It sounded to me as though Richard had considerable knowledge of St Radegund’s,’ said Timothy thoughtfully. ‘This morning he referred to the nuns as sirens, about whom he had heard rumours. I deduce that Tysilia is telling the truth, and that Richard is more familiar with the convent than he wants us to know.’

‘But why would Richard be involved in these meetings?’ asked Bartholomew, not liking the notion of his nephew being involved in the plot. ‘Everyone else was the head of a religious Order. Richard is certainly no cleric.’

‘No,’ said Michael. ‘But it seems he was involved in these meetings some way or another. We shall just have to leave it to him to tell us why. And there is something else I want to know, too. Ever since he arrived, he has been showing off his new clothes and his new horse. I want to know how he pays for all these things.’

‘The proceeds of crime,’ said Timothy darkly. ‘But I do not think his offences are related to Walcote’s murder. I remain certain that the motive for his death was theft. Someone stole his