An Order for Death

should have gone to interview the Dominicans the day that Faricius died, but was too diffident to press his point when you declared otherwise.’

‘He always did as he was told,’ said Michael thoughtfully. ‘And I can see he would have been poor at leading discussions. Very well, Richard. I accept that you are telling the truth about that. But why did anyone bother with these meetings, when nothing was ever achieved?’

‘I think the attenders enjoyed the opportunity to rant and rave to people who were of the same philosophical persuasion. Everyone loved the slander and lies that were hurled at the other side. The only things they did not agree on were those that really mattered – spending money on the Great Bridge and useful things like that.’

‘Why were you invited?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Everyone else was a cleric.’

‘Walcote needed a lawyer to read various documents. Heytesbury recommended me to him.’

‘And who else was at these nasty little covens?’ asked Michael.

Richard rubbed his eyes again. ‘Kenyngham and Gretford of the Gilbertines, Pechem of the Franciscans, and a few of their minions. It was a waste of time. What we did afterwards was fun, though.’

‘And what was that?’ asked Bartholomew.

Richard winked. ‘The nuns entertained us in ways that were quite extraordinary.’

Stanmore regarded his son in disgust. ‘I thought you would have known better than to engage in that sort of activity. And in a convent, too! What would your mother say if she knew?’

‘Did Heytesbury join you?’ asked Michael innocently. ‘If the answer is yes, then I could have my deed signed this very afternoon.’

‘No,’ said Richard sullenly.

‘Do not lie,’ warned Michael. ‘You are already in a good deal of trouble for attending these illegal gatherings. If you are honest now, I may be prepared to overlook your role in them.’

It was an empty bluster, given that there was nothing illegal in a group of scholars meeting each other in a convent, and, although it was hardly respectable behaviour, there was nothing unlawful in the frolics they had allegedly engaged in afterwards, either. But Richard’s mind was evidently not working as quickly as it might, and he gave way in the face of Michael’s belligerence.

‘Heytesbury was not invited to the meeting itself, because the business discussed was private to Cambridge, but he waited for me in the church and joined us for the fun afterwards.’

‘He would,’ said Stanmore in disapproval. ‘Mayor Horwoode told me that he was after Yolande de Blaston the instant he set foot in the town. I have never seen a man locate his prostitutes with such speed.’

Bartholomew nodded. ‘Matilde told us days ago that Heytesbury had employed Yolande.’

Michael rubbed his hands. ‘Excellent! I could not have hoped for a better way to persuade that sly Oxford rat to sign my deed.’

‘Really, Brother,’ said Bartholomew mildly. ‘I did not expect you to stoop so low. I thought you were anticipating a battle of wits with one of Oxford’s greatest thinkers, not that you would resort to blackmail because he is fond of a barrel of wine and enjoys the company of women.’

‘If I were not investigating four murders, I would concur,’ said Michael pompously. ‘But blackmail will be a good deal quicker, and I shall be assured of a favourable result. It may not be necessary anyway. If Heytesbury agrees to sign my deed on Sunday, I will not need to mention dalliances with nuns or frequent visits to taverns. But there is something else I want to know, since you are in a mood to talk, Richard: what is Tysilia’s role in all this?’

Richard’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Tysilia? None. Why do you ask?’

‘But you know her,’ said Bartholomew. ‘You met her in Bedford, and you travelled in the same party to Cambridge.’

Richard shook his head in disbelief. ‘Nothing escapes the notice of you two, does it? But what of it? I cannot see that my brief dalliance with Tysilia is any of your affair.’

‘You allowed that whore to seduce you?’ asked Stanmore in horror. ‘You could not resist her vile charms? I expected more of you, Richard. I credited you with good taste.’

‘I saw no reason to resist her,’ said Richard sullenly. ‘I only took what was freely offered.’

‘Like that pendant she stole from Mistress Horner?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘I saw you with it this morning.’

‘This?’ asked Richard, pulling the gold locket and its chain from his scrip. ‘This is not stolen.’

‘It belonged to a convent guest, and Tysilia took it,’ said Bartholomew. He snatched it from his nephew and put it in his own scrip, determined that Matilde should have it back.

‘But it was given to me,’ said Richard indignantly.

‘By whom?’ demanded Bartholomew. ‘And why?

‘Tell him, Richard,’ said Stanmore wearily. ‘I am sure there is a good reason why you happen to have this thing.’

Richard said irritably, ‘I did not know it was stolen. Tysilia told me her uncle had passed it to her.’

‘Why did she give it to you?’ asked Michael. ‘I thought she would have demanded payment from you, not the other way around.’

Richard swallowed. ‘Because I was going to help her escape. She does not like St Radegund’s; she finds it too restrictive.’

‘Lord help us!’ muttered Stanmore, regarding his son in disgust. ‘You are a foolish boy, although not, I think, a dishonest one. How could you even think of embroiling yourself in a plan to free that whore? What do you think Bishop de Lisle would say when he learned that you helped spirit his niece away from her protectors?’

‘He might be grateful to be rid of her,’ muttered Michael. ‘She is more trouble than she is worth.’

Stanmore stood and loomed over his son. ‘I have been tolerant of your idiosyncrasies since you returned, Richard, but I am rapidly losing patience. You will abandon this life of debauchery, and you will remove Heytesbury from my household by Sunday – as soon as his lecture is over. And then perhaps we can begin to forgive and forget.’

Richard stared at the floor, and Bartholomew could not tell whether he intended to follow his father’s orders or whether he would revert to his old ways as soon as Stanmore’s back was turned.

‘And that ear-ring will go, too,’ added Stanmore as an afterthought.

Without looking up, Richard slowly removed the offending jewellery from his lobe. He drank more water, then claimed he was tired and asked that he be allowed to rest. He closed his eyes, and Bartholomew imagined he could already see a hardening of the youthful features, indicating he was unwilling to give up his pleasantly debauched lifestyle in Heytesbury’s company. Perhaps both of them would return to Oxford together.

Bartholomew stayed with Richard a little longer, then followed a chuckling Michael down the stairs and across the courtyard to the road outside. Michael sniggered all the way up the High Street, although Bartholomew was not sure whether his amusement derived from the fact that Richard had been cut down to size or that he now had two very powerful weapons with which to bully Heytesbury into signing his document.

‘Here we are at the Franciscan Friary,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Now we will find out whether Paul is hiding Simon Lynne, as you believe.’

‘And, if he is, we shall have some answers at long last,’ said Michael, rubbing his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

Chapter 11

BARTHOLOMEW AND MICHAEL REACHED THE FRANCISCAN Friary just as the first gloom of dusk was approaching, and were startled to find its normally sedate atmosphere shattered, with grey-robed friars running here and there in panic. Warden Pechem stood in the middle of it, his hand swathed in the bandage Bartholomew had tied, as he answered questions put by Brother Timothy. Pechem was shivering, and Bartholomew noticed he was not wearing his cloak, as though he had been dragged from his warm quarters too suddenly to allow him to grab it.