Susanna GREGORY: The Devil's Disciples

‘Dickon has apologised again for biting you, Matt,’ said Tulyet after a while, although Bartholomew doubted the boy had done any such thing. ‘And to encourage him to keep his word, I have given him a proper sword.’

‘Christ, Dick!’ exclaimed Bartholomew, appalled. ‘Now he will stab me instead!’

‘I will disarm him before you arrive,’ said Tulyet stiffly. ‘Besides, it was part compensation for having taken the Book of Consecrations away from him. I read it last week, and decided it is not the sort of thing that should be in any Christian home.’

‘What did you do with it?’ asked Bartholomew uneasily. Dickon was resourceful, and might find a way to get it back again.

‘I gave it to Deynman,’ replied Tulyet. ‘For the Michaelhouse library. It will go some way towards restoring the books that Mildenale ordered William to burn.’

‘Langelee has sent William on a sabbatical leave of absence as punishment for that particular episode,’ said Michael, tactfully not mentioning that it was not the sort of tome that should be available for students. Perhaps Langelee would sell it – there were plenty of folk who would pay handsomely for such a volume, and Michaelhouse was always eager for ready cash. ‘And Prior Pechem has arranged for him to serve the time in a remote Fenland hospital. That should keep him out of mischief for a while.’

Bartholomew turned his thoughts to what had happened on the night when everything had come to a head. ‘When you pitched out of the window on those ropes, I thought you were going to fall to your death.’ He shuddered. It was not a pleasant memory.

Michael chuckled. ‘So did I, but it was all very stately. Once I realised I was in no particular danger, my chief concern was that someone might look up my habit.’

Bartholomew regarded him askance. ‘We had Valeria and Mildenale trying to kill us, and you were worried about your dignity?’

Michael adopted a prim expression. ‘A man without dignity is a man with nothing. How can I command respect if the entire town knows intimate details about my nether-garments?’

‘I do not think anyone was very interested in those,’ said Tulyet. ‘Most were more concerned with the fact that they had been promised the Sorcerer – a denizen of Hell, no less – and what they saw descending through the fire and smoke was the University’s Senior Proctor.’

‘I should have fined the lot of them,’ said Michael dourly. ‘But people are like sheep in matters of faith. They believe whichever noisy fanatic comes along and tells them what to think.’

‘Not all of them, Brother,’ said Bartholomew. ‘At least half the crowd were just curious. Isnard, for example – he told me ages ago that he was uncomfortable with sorcery, but he went to All Saints because he did not want to be the only one who had missed out.’

‘I agree,’ said Tulyet. ‘Even people who had declared their support for the Church could not resist slipping in for a look – men like Heltisle, Eyton and Prior Pechem.’

‘Heltisle,’ said Michael with rank disapproval. ‘How I dislike that man! Did you know he has been unable to recruit any more porters? He and his Fellows are obliged to do gate duty themselves, which serves them right for giving Younge so much freedom.’

‘He paid in other ways, too,’ said Tulyet. ‘He lost seven goats – it would have been eight if you had not caught Younge stealing the last one – and goats are expensive.’

‘What will happen to Mildenale and Valeria?’ asked Bartholomew, not very interested in Bene’t College’s financial losses.

‘Mildenale has claimed benefit of clergy, which means he is unlikely to hang,’ replied Tulyet. ‘He says Valeria was the one who led him and Margery astray, threatening to expose their ancient dalliance unless they did as she ordered. Meanwhile, Valeria is saying the whole episode was Mildenale’s idea, and she was powerless to resist.’

‘How did Valeria find out what Mildenale and Margery did in their youth?’ asked Michael. ‘They were very discreet; no one I have spoken to knew anything about it.’

‘According to Mildenale, Margery confided in a fellow witch – a woman she thought was a friend. She misjudged Valeria.’

‘Poor Margery,’ said Bartholomew sadly. ‘Perhaps they did hasten her end, because their plans for the town’s future would have filled her with horror.’

‘Both Mildenale and Valeria deny intending to burn the church,’ Tulyet went on. ‘But I know a lie when I hear one. They were going to set it alight, then threaten a cowed population with a repeat performance if it showed signs of disobedience – whether people were living the kind of lives Mildenale deemed suitable, or not paying proper homage to the power-hungry Valeria.’

‘They were certainly going to raze the charnel house with you inside it,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I heard them discussing it.’

Tulyet’s expression was grim. ‘Even if their plan had succeeded, their partnership would not have lasted. Both wanted to be in charge, and each would have worked to undermine the other eventually – just as they are turning on each other now.’

‘We were wrong about so many things,’ said Michael, after another silence. ‘We thought everything was connected to the Sorcerer – the exhumed corpses, the blood in the font, the goats. But they were nothing of the kind.’

‘They were all quite separate incidents,’ mused Tulyet. ‘Danyell’s theft of the Bishop’s money precipitated a chain of events that drew Michaelhouse and Sewale Cottage into contact with Spynk, Arblaster and Jodoca, and the canons of Barnwell. And then with Osbern and Brownsley.’

‘And you,’ added Michael. ‘You wanted the house, too.’

‘I heard the canons paid twenty-five marks for it in the end,’ said Tulyet. ‘For that price, they are welcome to it, although I understand they have had no success in locating the treasure.’

‘Nor will they,’ said Michael. ‘Cynric searched the place from top to bottom before we made the sale, and he says the hoard is not there. I cannot imagine what Danyell did with it, but it will never be Barnwell’s. All Fencotes’s machinations were for nothing.’

‘I heard Cynric ripped up the floor in his determination to find it,’ said Tulyet. ‘And you were obliged to lay new tiles before you sold the cottage. Was that not expensive?’

Michael smiled. ‘Refham put them in for us, free of charge, to make amends for trying to deprive us of his mother’s bequest. We have you to thank for that, Dick. Tell Matt what you did. It was announced at the last Fellows’ meeting, but he never listens to anything that happens in those, and I can see from his bemused expression that this one was no different.’

Tulyet grinned. ‘A number of people complained that Refham had cheated them, and when I searched his house for evidence of his crimes I found his mother’s will. It was made when she was in sound mind, and was witnessed by three priests from Ely. In it, she expresses her desire that Michaelhouse should have those shops for the price of a shilling.’

‘A shilling?’ echoed Bartholomew in surprise.

‘A nominal fee,’ said Michael smugly. ‘So, we have the property we wanted, and Refham gets virtually nothing. And he was obliged to lay us a nice new floor into the bargain.’

Bartholomew thought uncomfortably about Mother Valeria’s spells. Had the cursed stone she had buried really brought about the blacksmith’s plunge into financial disaster? Still, at least she had not managed to kill him.

‘Did you hear he is dead?’ asked Tulyet.

Bartholomew gazed at the Sheriff in shock. ‘What?’

‘He tried to leave the town, because Michaelhouse was not the only one after him for compensation,’ Tulyet explained. ‘He put all his worldly goods in a cart, and left for Luton after dark one night. Unfortunately, the last of the Bishop’s men were still at large, and a cart loaded with valuables was far too attractive a prize for them to ignore. He and Joan were killed during the skirmish.’