evening. You said you would come.’
Reluctantly, Bartholomew stepped out of the shadows and Cynric followed him into the neat, pleasant room where Matilde entertained her guests. It was a lovely chamber, and always smelled of clean woollen rugs and the herbs that she added to the logs that burned on the fire. A golden light filled every corner, softened by the subdued colours of the wall hangings. Down-filled cushions were scattered artistically on the benches and chairs, while a large bowl of nuts and fruit stood in the centre of a polished oak table.
Bartholomew stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that Matilde’s visitors, who sat side by side on a bench with goblets of wine in their hands, were none other than Tysilia and Eve Wasteneys of St Radegund’s Convent. Bartholomew’s stomach lurched. Had they learned that the portly Mistress Horner and the slender prostitute were one and the same? Had they come to do Matilde harm for attempting to spy on them?
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, quite rudely.
‘I might ask you the same question,’ retorted Eve, surprised by his hostility. ‘We are women visiting a woman for sensible advice. You are a man visiting a woman at a time that is not seemly.’
‘It is hardly seemly for a pair of nuns to be out so late, either,’ retorted Bartholomew. ‘But I am a physician, and I am often called out at night.’
‘Has Mistress Matilde summoned you, then?’ asked Eve archly. ‘She does not look in dire need of a physician to me.’
‘Why visit Matilde at night, when you could come in the day?’ countered Bartholomew.
‘Dame Martyn said we had to come in the dark because we could not be seen visiting a whore in broad daylight,’ supplied Tysilia helpfully. ‘She also said–’
‘Our business with Mistress Matilde is nothing to do with you,’ interrupted Eve, giving Tysilia a none too subtle dig in the ribs with her elbow to silence her. She stood up and made a gracious curtsy to Matilde, casting a sour glance at Bartholomew as she did so. ‘We should go. I would not wish our presence to deprive you of company this evening.’
She headed towards the door, although Tysilia clearly had no intention of leaving. She remained seated, so that Eve was obliged to walk back again and grab her by the hand.
‘No!’ Tysilia cried, trying to free herself. ‘I like it here.’
‘I am sure you do,’ muttered Eve, tugging harder. ‘But we must return to the convent.’
‘Matilde is the leader of the town’s whores,’ Tysilia announced to Bartholomew, resisting the older woman and attempting to sit again. ‘She knows everything about them. Mistress Horner, that fat woman who was staying with us, told Eve all about Matilde, and said we should come to see her with our problem.’
‘What problem?’ asked Bartholomew.
‘I am sure Mistress Horner did not mean you to come to see me in the dark, though,’ said Matilde reasonably. ‘It is not safe for women to be unaccompanied at night.’
‘Whores wander the streets alone,’ said Tysilia brightly. ‘In the dark, too.’
‘No,’ said Matilde quietly. ‘They do not. They used to, but it was dangerous. These days, most of them gather their clients from taverns or more public places.’
‘Really?’ asked Tysilia, fascinated. She turned to Eve with pleading eyes. ‘Can we go to a tavern? Tonight?’
Even Eve’s composure began to slip at this brazen request, while Matilde was startled into a laugh. Bartholomew studied Tysilia carefully. Her eyes were bright and shiny, but he still could not read the emptiness behind them. Most of her conversation was vacuous, but she had asked directly about the progress of the murder enquiry on two separate occasions, and had pointed out that Walcote was likely to have been killed by more than one person. He realised he was as unable to fathom her now as he had been on their first meeting.
‘No, we cannot tarry at an inn,’ said Eve sharply, reclaiming Tysilia’s wrist and dragging her towards the door. ‘It is time for us to go home.’
‘Perhaps Cynric would accompany you,’ suggested Matilde. ‘As I said, it is not wise for women to be out alone so late, especially once you leave the town. The Barnwell Causeway is a lonely and desolate place.’
Eve looked grateful, and Bartholomew had the impression that the nocturnal mission had not been her idea, and that something had happened that had called for desperate measures. Once they had left, and Tysilia’s demands to be taken to an inn immediately had faded into the night, Matilde closed the door with a grin.
‘Tysilia is pregnant again,’ she said. ‘Eve wanted me to tell her the name of a midwife who would end it, but I told her that was not the sort of thing the sisters know.’
Bartholomew was horrified and unconvinced. ‘That is just an excuse! Do you not think it odd that they just happen to visit you the moment you leave the convent? They know what you have been doing.’
Matilde shook her head. ‘I do not see how. However, I can assure you that it was not Mistress Horner who told them I was “the leader of the town’s whores”, as Tysilia put it. Mistress Horner never once mentioned Matilde.’
Bartholomew rubbed a hand through his hair, wishing that Matilde had never agreed to try to obtain information for Michael. ‘Then how did they know?’
Matilde shrugged. ‘It is no secret that I run an unofficial guild for the sisters, and that I help them to organise themselves in a way that minimises the danger inherent in their profession. Perhaps Eve Wasteneys claimed Mistress Horner as a source of information to Tysilia, because she did not care to explain how else she knew. Mistress Horner has gone, and will never know what she is supposed to have said.’
Bartholomew nodded. ‘You may be right. But if Tysilia is as clever as we think, then she may simply be telling you that she knows Mistress Horner is a fake. I do not like this at all, Matilde. I want you to go and stay with Edith tomorrow. You will be safe in Trumpington.’
‘With lecherous old Heytesbury prowling the house?’ exclaimed Matilde, laughing. ‘I do not think so, Matthew! I will be quite safe here. You ordered me out of the convent and I complied, but I will not be ordered anywhere else by you.’
‘Very well,’ said Bartholomew reluctantly. He felt in his bag and gave her the pendant he had reclaimed from Richard. ‘Here is the locket Tysilia stole from you.’
‘How did you find it? Did she give it to you?’
‘She gave it to Richard in return for helping her to escape from St Radegund’s.’
Matilde chuckled. ‘So that is where all the nuns’ trinkets go. She gives them to various men in exchange for some undetermined help in the future. I actually heard her bargaining with William Heytesbury one night. He is her lover of the week. She seldom keeps them for longer than that; I think she is afraid they might do something dreadful, like try to hold a conversation with her, if they come to know her too well.’
Bartholomew recalled that Tysilia had once said much the same to him herself. ‘Did Brother Timothy tell you about the lepers wanting your charity?’ he asked, wishing that the Junior Proctor did not know that Matilde had been helping Michael.
She shook her head. ‘When was he supposed to come? I left the convent just before sunset.’
‘This afternoon,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He said he would tell you that the lepers desperately need the food that you sometimes send them.’
Matilde nodded. ‘The Benedictines have been giving all their eggs and butter to the ailing Brother Adam this year. Janius has taken the lepers nothing for weeks now.’
‘Really,’ said Bartholomew thoughtfully, recalling that Janius had walked with them to Barnwell the day Timothy had been appointed Junior Proctor. He had carried a basket that he said contained food for the lepers, which he had covered with a cloth, ostensibly to protect it from the rain. Why had he taken a long walk in the drizzle, when it had not been an errand of mercy that had called him? Had it been to drop Walcote’s purse near the Barnwell Priory for the eagle-eyed Sergeant Orwelle to find? Was that why he had placed the cloth over the basket, so that Bartholomew and Michael would not see that it was empty of provisions for the lepers?
Bartholomew turned to Matilde. ‘I wish you would go to Trumpington, away from all this. I would feel happier knowing that you are safe.’
She reached up and touched him gently on the cheek. ‘I know. And I appreciate your concern. You cannot know what a comforting thing it is to have a good friend in a place like this, where nothing is ever what it seems.’
‘What do you mean? Are you referring to Tysilia again?’
Matilde shook her head slowly. ‘I do not know, Matthew. Perhaps we were wrong, and there is nothing
