became clear to him.
'Not coming back?' said Stuart Grahame. 'Why ever not? He has not decided to become a friar, has he? Has he been hurt in this love affair and sworn to forsake the world?' He stood abruptly. 'Let me see him. I will talk some sense into the fool!'
'Sit down, Stuart,' said Davy Grahame in a soft voice.
'Brother Michael is telling us that Jamie is dead.'
'What?' The colour drained from Stuart Grahame's face and he sat down suddenly with a jolt, as if his legs had turned to jelly.
'But he cannot be dead, Davy!' he said unsteadily. 'We saw him yesterday evening!'
Davy ignored him. 'How did he die?' he asked, looking from Michael to Bartholomew, his expression one of dazed horror. 'Where?'
'Quickly,' said Bartholomew, 'and without pain. Near the King's Ditch at Valence Marie. Can you think of anyone who would want to harm him?'
'He was killed by another?' asked Father Andrew, appalled. 'You mean murdered?'
Michael nodded, and calmly blocked the door as Stuart Grahame suddenly lurched towards it. 'Those friars!' the Scot yelled. The friars killed him!'
Michael took him firmly by the elbow and led him to sit at the table again, where Father Andrew put a comforting arm around his shoulders. The biggest, oldest and toughest of the Scots began to weep uncontrollably. The others looked away, Ruthven scrubbing surreptitiously at his eyes with the back of his hand.
'We will speak to the friars, of course,' said Michael.
'But at the moment, we need you to think of reasons others might have for wishing Kenzie harm. We can start with his woman.'
Fyvie shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. 'She would not kill him — she loved him dearly! Her name is Dominica and she is the daughter of the Principal of Godwinsson Hostel.'
Ruthven seized Michael's sleeve. 'Tread carefully, though. She is a kindly girl, but her father is not well- disposed towards Scots. You could ruin her by indiscretion.'
The indiscretion was James Kenzie's, thought Bartholomew, if he had picked a lover whose father was so adverse to his nationality. But Ruthven's caution was obviously meant well — a final act of friendship in attempting to protect the reputation of his dead comrade's lover.
Michael appraised him coolly. 'We will not be indiscreet,' he said, 'although I trust no other of you is so flagrantly breaking the University's rule about women?'
Vigorously shaken heads met his inquiry, and Michael relented. 'Do you have anything more that might help us? Were you all here last night as you claim?'
Ruthven, still white-faced, answered. 'Yes. Father Andrew was with us until it was time for the door to be locked, but Jamie had already left by then. We told Father Andrew that Jamie was ill and was resting upstairs in bed, like Robert of Stirling. Father Andrew saw us all to our dormitory, and can vouch that we all accompanied him to mass this morning. The Principal stayed here with the two students from Stirling and Jamie… or so he thought.'
Father Andrew nodded. 'Seven students were with me at mass: these seven,' he said, gesturing at Kenzie's four friends and the trio by the fireplace. 'I thought Jamie was ill. Until now.' He looked sternly at the subdued students. 'You have been extremely foolish in aiding your friend to slip out at night, and you very possibly have contributed to his death. Think on that before you break more University rules.'
'I want to go home!' wailed Stuart Grahame suddenly.
His younger cousin rushed to his side in an attempt to quell the tears. 'I do not like this violent town!'
'Did Jamie have a ring?' asked Bartholomew, watching Davy comfort his distraught kinsman. 'One that he wore on his little finger?'
For a moment there was silence, except for Stuart's soft weeping, and then Davy spoke up. 'Yes, he did.
And although he never said so, I had the feeling that Dominica gave it to him. Why? Do you have it? I doubt it was valuable.'
Bartholomew shook his head. 'It was missing, and so we must consider theft as a possible motive for Jamie's murder. In the dark, it would have been difficult to tell whether or not something was valuable, and a thief might have stolen it believing it was worth more than it was.'
'Have there been others in his family to die violently?' asked Michael, addressing Ruthven.
'Of course there have,' said Ruthven, as surprised by the question as Michael was by the answer. 'At home we need constantly to defend our lands and property, sometimes from the English and sometimes from our neighbours. And, on occasions, we attack others. Of course Jamie has relatives who have died violently.'
'I see,' said Michael, bemused. 'But that is not what I meant.'
'He wants to know whether there is any possibility that the skeleton unearthed yesterday is related to Jamie,' said Davy. The student shrugged at Michael's surprise. 'You said Jamie died in the King's Ditch at Valence Marie, and rumour has it that a skeleton was found in the same location yesterday. It does not take three terms of Aristotle to guess why you posed such a question.'
'Of course Jamie is not related to those bones,' said Ruthven, bewildered. 'Why should he be? Do you know who the skeleton is?'
Michael shook his head. 'I am merely trying to ensure that I overlook nothing. As Davy has just noted, Jamie and the skeleton were found in the same area within a few hours of each other.'
Davy frowned. 'We have only been studying here for a year. Jamie was the first of his family to acquire learning — he constantly joked that he was the first of his clan to step on English soil without intending to steal the cattle. The skeleton cannot be any of his forebears. '
'What will happen to us?' asked Ruthven in a low voice, as Michael prepared to leave.
'You will remain in the hostel, and you will not leave it unless you are in the company of a master,' said Michael.
'If I hear that any of you has disobeyed me, I will arrest you at once.'
He turned abruptly and left the room, waiting for Father Andrew and Bartholomew to follow him into the corridor. As Father Andrew closed the door behind them, they heard Stuart Grahame begin to cry again, while Fyvie and Ruthven's voices immediately rose in a clamour of questions and self-recriminations.
Father Andrew shook his head wearily, and leaned against the door. 'I am so sorry, Brother. I had no idea they would be so stupid as to assist one of their number to spend nights out with his paramour. I should have realised that they would not be subdued as easily as they pretended to be. Do you know who killed Jamie? Was it these friars they mentioned, the ones with whom they brawled yesterday?'
'We do not know yet,' said Michael. 'His killer may have been a friend. Can you be certain that all four were here last night?'
Father Andrew nodded. 'I saw them into the dormitory.
I was still furious with them — if we Scots are seen brawling in the streets, the townspeople may take reprisals. You probably noticed our new door? We were forced to buy that when our last one was kicked to pieces following an argument between the Principal and a baker about underweight loaves. People here still resent the Scots' victory over the English at Bannockburn in 1314, you know — some of the older townsmen were even in King Edward the Second's army at the time. Anyway, suffice to say that our intention is to remain aloof from conflict at all costs. It would not do if our landlord refused to rent us this building next year because we had earned a reputation for fighting.'
Michael gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I appreciate that maintaining a distance from brawls might prove difficult for these fiery lads,' he said. 'And I appreciate your efforts in attempting to control them. The continued good reputation of your hostel is even more reason why we must resolve James Kenzie's death as quickly as possible. We should take a quick look at his belongings to see if he left some clue regarding the identity of his killer. Where did he sleep?'
Father Andrew led the way up a narrow wooden staircase to the dormitory. Bartholomew saw that, as was the case in many hostels, the dormitory was converted into a common room during the day, when the straw mattresses that served as beds were rolled up and stacked against one wall. The room was reasonably tidy, although there was a strong smell of dirty clothes. Two large chests stood at one end of the room in which the students could store their few belongings.
