Susanna GREGORY - Mystery in the Minster

‘You are over-thinking the matter,’ said Michael, who had approached so silently that he made them jump by speaking behind them. He smiled and brandished a letter. ‘I thought I might find you here, so I came to tell you that I had a missive today. From Thoresby.’

‘That old rogue,’ said Langelee, but without rancour. ‘What did he want?’

Michael plumped himself down on the trunk with such vigour that Bartholomew was almost catapulted off the other end, while even Langelee had to scramble to keep his balance.

‘To tell me that Cave tried bullying Jafford, who has succeeded Ellis as sub-chanter. But Jafford complained to the minster hierarchy, so Cave was appointed librarian.’

‘Cave is promoted?’ asked Langelee, disgusted. ‘Is that how crime is punished in York?’

‘Cave was so horrified that he had a seizure the same night, and died,’ Michael went on. ‘At least, that is what Thoresby says. Regardless, he will shove no more elderly priests to their deaths.’

‘Then let us hope that marks the end of the matter,’ said Bartholomew unhappily. ‘The whole affair was unpleasant, and I imagine Zouche would have been horrified.’

‘He would,’ agreed Langelee soberly. ‘Especially with Myton – stealing the chantry fund to save his business ventures. I still cannot believe it. He was always so honest .’

‘Do not judge him too harshly,’ said Bartholomew. ‘From all we were told about his character, I believe he would have repaid what he had borrowed if he could.’

Langelee sniffed, unconvinced. ‘Well, he has forfeited my good graces. To strike him where I know it will hurt, I persuaded Jafford to divert some of the obits Myton had founded for himself to Zouche instead. But Myton is still recorded in the deeds as “venerable and discreet”. I could not find a way to change that.’

‘Perhaps people in the future will think like Sir William,’ suggested Michael. ‘And read in those words a euphemism for haughty and secretive. Regardless, Myton’s crime precipitated a chain of events that culminated in the murders of Radeford, Ellis and seven executors, and the attempted murders of us, Cynric, Sir William and Dalfeld.’

‘It might have been eight executors, if Anketil had not been stabbed by Wy,’ said Langelee. ‘And I am still dismayed that Helen survived the collapse of the church. She emerged with not so much as a scratch, and brays that she is innocent. She may yet evade justice.’

They were silent for a while, and the only sounds were the bees among the lavender and the distant babble of students emerging from a class. Then Michael asked, ‘How did Myton discover the list of French spies? We know Zouche dictated it to the clerk, who was murdered by Wy as he was on his way to report the matter to Mayor Longton. But how did Myton come by it?’

‘We will probably never know for certain,’ replied Langelee. ‘But I suspect the clerk made duplicates, which he filed in Zouche’s records. Myton probably happened across one by chance – as did Radeford, five years later. But such a list would have been worthless alone, so Myton must have spent a lot of time hunting out supporting evidence. Perhaps that is what led him to neglect his failing business…’

‘Thus allowing Gisbyrn to crush him,’ nodded Michael. ‘But why not expose Chozaico before killing himself?’

‘If he was unhappy enough to take his own life, he would not have cared about spies,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Besides, he probably liked Chozaico, and did not consider it a pleasure to deliver such a man to his execution. I know I would not have done – I liked him, too.’

‘Well, I am sorry he escaped,’ said Langelee sulkily. ‘I spent years trying to catch him and his helpmeets, and now they are sitting happily in France, enjoying the fruits of their deception.’

‘Actually, they are not.’ Michael tapped his letter. ‘Thoresby guessed they might encounter difficulties on the flooded roads, so he dispatched messengers to those foundations in which he thought they might take refuge.’

‘They are apprehended?’ cried Langelee in dismay. For all his hot words, he did not want Chozaico dead, either.

Michael inclined his head. ‘But their capture coincides with the arrest of some English spies in France, so an exchange is being negotiated. They will elude the hangman, although the Benedictines at their Mother house in Marmoutier will have to pay an enormous fine in compensation to our King.’

‘He will be pleased, then,’ grinned Langelee. ‘He is always in need of money, and loves unexpected windfalls.’

‘Incidentally, the floods that prevented Chozaico’s escape also punished Dalfeld,’ added Michael rather gleefully. ‘His house fell in the river, taking with it everything he owned. He had to throw himself on Stayndrop’s mercy, and Stayndrop obliged by sending him to Grimsby.’

‘Where?’ asked Bartholomew.

‘Quite,’ said Michael. ‘It is not somewhere he will be able to accrue riches and power again. And finally, Thoresby tells me that the Carmelites are feted as heroes for their unstinting efforts to help the dispossessed during the floods. I am glad: they are decent men.’

‘I have one question, though,’ said Langelee. ‘We thought we had a clue when Talerand saw Christopher weeping the night before Zouche’s chantry fund was discovered empty. But it was nothing of the kind, and we never did find out what had distressed him.’

‘Actually, it was explained in a document Sir William found in the rosewood chest,’ said Michael. ‘Christopher had learned that his brother was a spy. Obviously, he could not confide that when Talerand asked for an explanation – not without harming Anketil.’

‘And we wasted all that time hunting for a codicil that never existed,’ said Langelee with a sigh. ‘Time I could have spent enjoying myself with old friends, although I am grateful I did not try to pass too much of it with Helen. She might have tried to poison me.’

‘She might,’ agreed Michael. He turned to Bartholomew. ‘I know Cynric discovered Radeford’s hiding place in the end, but he refuses to tell me about it. Did he confide in you?’

Bartholomew smiled. ‘ He did not discover it, Brother – I did. Radeford had put the documents in the saddlebag where I keep my medical supplies, a place Cynric never ventures because he believes it to be full of sinister ingredients and equipment. Although he is wrong, of course – it contains nothing unpleasant.’

Michael gaped at him. ‘Then why did you not find them immediately?’

‘Because they were right at the bottom, wedged beneath a fold in the leather – they fell out when I upended it to repack before we left York. I gave the list of spies and the correspondence between Neville and Christopher to Sir William, but I burned Isabella’s forged codicil.’

‘Why?’ asked Michael curiously.

‘I ordered him to,’ explained Langelee. ‘We could not risk the vicars-choral seeing it – they might have accused us of making it ourselves. Or worse, demanded their hundred marks back.’

‘I read the letters first, though,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Neville had discovered that some of the chantry fund had been stolen, and Christopher suspected Myton. They were on the verge of proving it when they were murdered.’

Michael stared at him. ‘You mean that if Isabella and Helen had stayed their hand, Myton would have been exposed? And the executors would not have been murdered, because Helen and Isabella could not have held them responsible for failing to complete Zouche’s chapel?’

Bartholomew nodded. ‘Although Myton did not steal all of it – a good deal had been allowed to dribble away through incompetence and negligence.’