Susanna GREGORY - The Killer of Pilgrims

‘We are back where we started,’ said Suttone gloomily. ‘All that disruption was for nothing. Worse, we owe Blaston and the mason we hired to replace Yffi for their labour.’

‘Emma gave us enough to pay them, in return for Michael keeping Odelina and Heslarton out of his official report,’ said Langelee. His face darkened. ‘Although I could not prevail on her to give us more. Still, I suppose you cannot blame her, since he declined to let them escape.’

‘Of course I declined,’ said Michael indignantly. ‘It would have been very wrong.’

‘The family did love each other,’ said Clippesby with quiet compassion. ‘Indeed, it was affection that brought about their downfall: Heslarton’s love for his daughter led him to help cover her crimes. And Odelina’s love for her grandmother gave Matthew and Cynric a chance to escape – she wanted to kill them immediately, but decided to let them save Emma first.’

‘That is one way of looking at it, I suppose,’ said Langelee. ‘But as far as I am concerned, they were all villains. I wonder whether the signacula Welfry accrued will help them on Judgment Day. The holiness may have rubbed off on their fingers when they touched them.’

‘They will help,’ said Suttone, while William nodded agreement. ‘Handling such sacred objects will see them skip through Purgatory.’

‘They will not,’ countered Clippesby. ‘The tokens were stolen, so they cannot claim any benefit from them. Besides, a person is judged on his merits, not what he manages to touch during his life.’

‘You are right, Clippesby,’ said Thelnetham, who was polishing his nails with a piece of oiled cloth. The conclave smelled strongly of perfume, and no one was sitting too close to him. ‘And–’

‘It is a pity we have lost so much from this unpleasant business, though,’ interrupted Langelee, not very interested in another theological discussion. ‘A benefactress, a host of prayers to be said…’

‘What do you mean?’ asked William suspiciously. ‘What prayers?’

‘Before Emma agreed to pay Blaston and the new mason, she made me promise that Michaelhouse’s priests would say masses for her, Heslarton and Odelina,’ explained Langelee. ‘And also for Fen, Poynton and the two fat nuns.’

‘I am not saying masses for them!’ declared William indignantly. ‘None are worthy. Did I tell you why Fen was always so wan and pale, by the way? Because he offered to sell Kendale some books!’ His lips pursed meaningfully.

‘Yes, he told us,’ said Bartholomew. ‘One by Bradwardine on natural philosophy.’

‘That was a lie. What he actually offered were banned books on alchemy.’ William hissed the last word, giving it a decidedly sinister timbre. ‘It was guilt that made him sheepish. Moreover, those fat nuns are bigamists. They say they were both wives of Hugh Neel, but how is that possible? If he took two wives, one of them should have been dead first. And as for Odelina and Heslarton…’

‘Perhaps this is why Emma thinks they need our masses,’ said Clippesby gently. ‘I have said a few prayers for them already, poor lost souls.’

‘Have you?’ asked Langelee, rather belligerently. ‘I wonder if that is why Heslarton and Odelina are not hanged, as they should have been, but ordered to abjure the realm. Perhaps we should withhold our blessings for a while. With luck, someone will murder them on their way to the coast.’

‘Really, Master!’ exclaimed Clippesby, shocked. ‘That is not a kindly thing to say.’

Langelee shrugged, unrepentant. ‘I have never made any pretensions to being kindly, and I speak as I find. Incidentally, did you know that Emma has decided to join the Gilbertine Order, and will donate all her worldly goods to the Mother House at Sempringham?’

‘Yes,’ said Thelnetham smugly. ‘Prior Leccheworth is delighted. He is even more delighted that she intends to live there, and not with us. He wants her money, but not her company.’

Ayera regarded Bartholomew disapprovingly. ‘When you pulled her tooth, her howls could be heard all along the High Street. You should not dabble in surgery – it is not right.’

‘No, it is not,’ agreed Thelnetham. ‘But a new surgeon should be arriving from York soon, so he will not have to do it much longer, thank God. His reputation as a warlock is doing Michaelhouse no good whatsoever, especially after he invented the substance that killed Ihon.’

‘The Archbishop of York is very interested in finding out what went into that,’ said Langelee. ‘Indeed, he has offered a princely sum for the recipe. We could do the with money…’

‘No,’ said Bartholomew firmly. It was not the first time he had been approached for the formula, and he had a bad feeling it would not be the last, either. ‘I cannot remember.’

‘Good,’ said Thelnetham with a shudder. ‘It is best forgotten.’ He changed the subject. ‘I heard all the pilgrim badges have been returned to their rightful owners, Michael.’

‘All except the most important one,’ said Michael gloomily. ‘Mine. The others were under Welfry’s bed at the Dominican friary – he was so confident he would never be caught that he made no effort to hide them. He had St Simon Stock’s scapular, too, and Etone was delighted to have it back. Personally, I think it is a fake.’

‘I know it is,’ said William. He shrugged when everyone looked at him. ‘A few years ago, a Carmelite novice hacked a bit off one of my habits. I have always wondered why. Yesterday I went to the shrine, and compared my damaged robe to that holy scapular. They matched perfectly.’

‘You mean pilgrims have been worshipping something of yours?’ asked Thelnetham, regarding the Franciscan’s revolting clothes in stunned disbelief. ‘That is worse than sacrilege!’

‘It is not my fault,’ said William stiffly. ‘Clearly, the business started as a prank, but took on a life of its own, as these things are apt to do. To make the “relic” appear genuine, the jokers must have wanted something…’ He waved his hand.

‘Old and filthy,’ supplied Langelee. ‘Well, it worked, because it looked real to me. Perhaps we should fabricate something to attract pilgrims ourselves, because we are desperately short of funds.’

‘Again?’ sighed Michael wearily. ‘I do not think I can take much more terrible food.’

‘It is Bartholomew’s fault,’ said Langelee. ‘He told Walter to feed his peacock grain, rather than wine-soaked bread, and the wretched beast has devoured all the seeds we were going to plant for vegetables this spring.’

‘Really?’ asked Michael, brightening. ‘That is good news. I do not care for vegetables.’

There was a silence as the Fellows pondered their lot.

‘Tell me again, Brother,’ said William, a little while later. ‘Who dispatched whom? I did not follow your explanation after the camp-ball game. It was too garbled.’

Michael obliged. ‘Odelina killed Alice and Drax, so her father and Celia could marry and live happily ever after. Heslarton stabbed Poynton by accident during the camp-ball game, and then knifed Yffi when he tried to blackmail him over it.’

‘Odelina killed Gib, too, with her father’s help,’ added Thelnetham, who had not found the monk’s explanation garbled at all. ‘And Welfry suggested they tie a yellow wig on him, to make Michael and the Sheriff think the killer-thief was dead.’

‘I see,’ said William. ‘And Welfry stole the signacula and St Simon Stock’s relic because he thought he had leprosy and he needed them to see him through Purgatory.’

Michael nodded. ‘But before being sentenced to spend his dying days in some remote hospital, he decided to do the University a favour, and rid it of one of its more troublesome elements – Chestre, who were stirring up strife between the hostels and the Colleges.’