can vouch for every one of our students at any time since.
And I can assure you that none of them has fooled us with rolled-up blankets this time.'
Bartholomew rose to leave. 'I am sorry to have wasted your time, Father,' he said, 'but these questions needed to be asked — to clear your names from malicious gossip if nothing else.'
Andrew's mild indignation abated somewhat. 'I am sorry, too, Doctor. We have nothing to be ashamed of, so we do not resent your inquiries. We will answer any questions that will bring Jamie's killer to justice.' He rubbed at the ink on his hands. 'Have you finished with our Galen yet? Although we have no medical students at David's, a book is a valuable thing, and we would like it back soon.'
Bartholomew, who had been under the impression from Principal Radbeche that there was no immediate urgency for him to finish with it, was embarrassed that he had taken his time to read it. He offered to return it immediately. Andrew gave Bartholomew an apologetic smile.
'It is the only book we own outright,' he said again.
He gestured at the tomes that were piled on the table.
'These others are borrowed from King's Hall. While I am delighted that you have found our Galen useful, I would feel happier in my mind knowing it is back here.' His grin broadened, and his voice dropped as he leaned towards Bartholomew so the students could not overhear. 'I show it to the illiterate parents of prospective students, so they know that we are serious about learning. Even though our book is a medical text, it serves an important function at David's!'
Bartholomew said he would send Gray round with the book as soon as possible. He offered his hand to Father Andrew, who clasped it genially before settling down at the table to read with Ruthven and Davy. Robert of Stirling leapt to his feet to see him out and Bartholomew followed him along the stuffy corridor. The student removed the bar from the gate, all the while gabbling about the attack several weeks before in which the old door had been kicked down. Bartholomew sensed the lad was chattering to hide his nervousness.
As Bartholomew stepped past him, Robert took his arm, casting an anxious glance back down the corridor.
He made as though to speak but then closed his mouth firmly. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he scrubbed at it irritably with his shirtsleeve.
'What is wrong? ' Bartholomew asked, wondering whether Robert had fully recovered from his fever. Perhaps he needed more medication and was afraid he would not have enough money to pay for it.
'Jamie's ring,' the student blurted out. 'I admired it. My father is a jeweller, you see. I know about good stones.'
His words were jerky and he gave another agitated glance down the corridor.
'If it will put your mind at ease, I will tell no one we have spoken,' said Bartholomew gently, giving the nervous student a reassuring smile.
Robert swallowed hard. 'I persuaded Father Andrew to take me and my brother John to see the relic at Valence Marie on Saturday,' he said. He paused again and Bartholomew forced himself to be patient. 'Jamie's ring was on that horrible thing!' Robert's words came in a rush.
'I noticed the hand wore a ring similar to the one Jamie is said to have owned,' said Bartholomew carefully.
One thing they could not afford was for Robert to claim Kenzie's ring was at Valence Marie: Valence Marie would start a fight with David's for certain. 'It is not necessarily the same one.'
'It is the same!' said Robert, his voice loud, desperate to be believed. Bartholomew grew anxious and wondered how he might dissuade Robert from his belief.
'Easy now,' he said. 'I will ask Brother Michael to inspect the ring, and-'
'You do not understand!' interrupted Robert, shaking off Bartholomew's attempt to placate him. 'I am not telling you it is similar. I am telling you it is the same one.'
'How can you be sure?' asked Bartholomew with quiet reason. 'I have seen at least one other ring identical to the one at Valence Marie myself recently.'
Robert looked pained. 'You recognise different diseases,' he said. 'I recognise different stones. My father is a jeweller, and I have been handlingjewels since I was old enough not to eat them. It was the same ring, I tell you!'
His point made, he became calmer, although he kept casting anxious glances towards the hall.
'Why did you not tell me this when you were in the hall with the others?' asked Bartholomew.
Robert shook his head violently and fixed Bartholomew with huge eyes. 'I could not explain how I know,' he whispered.
Bartholomew was puzzled. 'But you said your father is a jeweller. Is that not explanation enough?'
Robert lowered his gaze. 'No one but you knows that.
John told a lie when we first arrived two years ago. We have been living it ever since. We cannot reveal that we are the sons of a merchant.'
Bartholomew shook his head, nonplussed. Many merchants' sons studied in Cambridge and he was unaware that any of them faced serious problems because of it.
Looking at Robert's dark features, he suddenly realised the physical similarity between him and the Arab master with whom he had studied in Paris. In a flash of understanding, it occurred to him that Robert and John might be Jewish, that their father was a money-lender rather than a jeweller. In France, the Jewish population had been accused of bringing the plague, and the situation was little better in England. If Bartholomew's supposition were true, he did not blame Robert and John for wishing to keep their heritage a secret.
Robert continued. 'Master Radbeche and Father Andrew think my father owns a manor near Stirling.'
'They will not learn otherwise from me,' said Bartholomew.
'But this matter of Jamie's ring…'
Robert became animated again. 'It is his ring! There is no doubt! I pretended to examine the hand closely but really I was looking at the ring.'
Bartholomew felt in the sleeve of his gown. 'But what about this?' he asked, handing the ring Cecily had given him to Robert. Robert took it and turned it around in his fingers, smiling faintly.
'Ah, yes, lovers' rings. I wondered if Jamie's might be one of a pair. But this is not the ring he had.' He gave it back to Bartholomew. 'He had the gentleman's; this is the lady's.'
Bartholomew showed Robert the other ring, the one he had found on the floor of Godwinsson's shed. The shed that killed Werbergh, he thought, although obviously Werbergh could not have been looking for the ring, since he was already dead when he was put there.
Robert was talking, and Bartholomew forced his thoughts back to the present. 'This would once have held a stone about the same size as the ones in the lovers' rings, although the craftsmanship on this is very inferior. See the crudeness of the welding? And the arms of the clasp are different sizes.' His nervousness seemed to abate as he talked about something he knew. 'This is a nasty piece. I would say it belonged to a whore, or someone who could not afford anything better. In fact, I would go as far as saying there was no stone at all, but perhaps coloured glass.'
He looked up, dark brown eyes meeting Bartholomew's.
'I cannot say how Jamie's ring came to be on that horrible hand, but it is his without a doubt. The matching ring you have is the other half of the pair; I imagine you got it from Dominica. The third ring is nothing — a tawdry bauble. Do you think they might have some connection to why Jamie was killed?'
Bartholomew slipped them back into his sleeve and shrugged. 'The one on the relic definitely does. You have helped considerably by telling me what you have, and I promise you, no one will ever know where I came by the information. Perhaps you will return the favour by keeping your knowledge of the matter to yourself.'
Robert looked at Bartholomew as though he were insane. 'I feel I have risked enough just talking to you.
I will not tell another soul — not even my brother John.
John does not share my interest in precious stones, and found the hand sufficiently repulsive that he did not look at it long enough to recognise Jamie's ring.'
Bartholomew felt in his bag, pulling out a small packet.
'Take this. It is a mixture of herbs I give babies when they are teething and will do you no harm. If anyone should ask why you have been talking with me for so long, tell them you still feel feverish and wanted some
