Susanna GREGORY - A Killer in Winter

They were silent for a while, watching the sun playing through the winter branches of the fruit trees and listening to the distant sounds of the town. A dog yapped in the High Street, and a cart lumbered slowly along the rutted mud of St Michael’s Lane, which lay just over the wall. A man shouted something about a horse, and the gentle grunt of pigs could just be heard as they were driven towards the Market Square.

‘Turke was a nasty man,’ said Bartholomew at last. ‘His failure to help Isabella escape from the frozen River Thames started all this. Fiscurtune and Ailred allowed him to buy their silence when they should have denounced him, and the hatred Turke felt towards the men who could damage him eventually led him to stab Fiscurtune in a brawl.’

‘Do not forget Fiscurtune was not exactly an angel, either. He developed his salting method, but it did not work – as we saw with Norbert’s tench – and Turke was probably right to prevent him from inflicting it on his customers. Also, Fiscurtune was quite happy to be paid for his silence over Isabella, and so was Ailred. The records I examined with Godric yesterday indicate that Turke’s money has kept Ovyng afloat for years.’

‘I still do not understand why Turke was willing to dispense with his saintly finger,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Why did he not keep it for himself? He was a man who liked material wealth.’

‘It was stolen property,’ said Michael. ‘I asked the Dominicans to investigate it, and they learned that St Zeno’s finger was taken from a Carmelite chapel in London some years ago. A likely thief was caught and relieved of a thumb, but the relic itself was never recovered.’

‘Gosslinge took it?’ asked Bartholomew in astonishment.

‘So it would seem. I imagine he stole it on Turke’s instructions, and the resulting punishment put Turke under a certain obligation to him. But the net was closing, and the Carmelites were already on the relic’s trail. By handing it to Michaelhouse, Turke paid Gosslinge’s expenses with something he was going to lose anyway. I suppose if anyone had demanded to know how it came to be in his possession, he would have said it belonged to Gosslinge, and that he knew nothing about its origins.’

‘What happened to it?’

‘Godric found it among some reeds when he was looking for Ailred’s body. The Carmelites paid him a princely sum for its safe return and Ovyng Hostel now has fuel and food aplenty.’

‘I did not think for a moment it was a real relic. I always thought it was Gosslinge’s thumb.’

Michael shuddered. ‘That would have been perverted, Matt! Men do not adorn themselves with the severed digits of their servants. Even fishmongers from Chepe.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘Speaking of perversions, Agatha claimed Norbert visited Robin’s pig, to bestow affections on it. But, of course, Norbert was not visiting the pig at all. He was slipping into Robin’s house by the back door, hoping to persuade him to extend the loan Dympna had made.’

‘But Norbert could not have known Robin was a member of Dympna,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I know Robin was the man who dispensed agreed funds – and so was the person the successful applicants met – but Norbert had been turned down by the official Dympna. By the time Norbert had his loan, Ailred was being helped by Frith.’

‘No. Ailred was making illegal loans before Frith arrived. Frith only became involved when Kenyngham discovered what had been happening, and set his ultimatum for Ailred to retrieve what had been lost.’

‘So, Ailred used Robin to dispense the illicit loans?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘And Robin was blithely unaware of the fact that these were made without the consent of Dick and Kenyngham? I suppose that makes sense from the things they all told us.’

‘Robin should have mentioned Norbert’s visits,’ said Michael resentfully. ‘He has been apologetic ever since, but we would have solved his murder sooner had everyone been honest.’

‘William persuaded his Prior to declare Harysone’s book heretical,’ said Bartholomew, after a pause. ‘Anyone owning a copy is obliged to take it to the Franciscan Friary, where it will be burned. I do not approve of incinerating books, even ones like Harysone’s.’

‘I would normally concur, but Harysone’s was worse than heretical: it was full of errors and insulting to its readers. The world will not suffer from the loss of that particular tome. Indeed, I imagine it will be a good deal better off: someone like Deynman might have read it and thought it was true. It would not do for him to live the rest of his life imagining God as a gigantic pike.’

Bartholomew laughed, then became serious. ‘Harysone said he sent a message to Ailred, telling him he was coming to Cambridge. I think if Ailred had received that missive, the case would have ended very differently – especially for him. He and Frith would not have murdered Turke, but would have gone along with Harysone’s plan to continue blackmailing him. Ailred would have used his share of the money to repay the bad loans he had made, and Kenyngham would have forgotten the whole mess.’

‘Harysone claimed he sent a note,’ said Michael. ‘But there is nothing to say he was telling the truth. He was probably lying, as he lied about everything else.’

‘You were right about him. He did come here intending mischief.’

‘I knew it as soon as I clapped eyes on the fellow,’ declared Michael. ‘I have dealt with too many murderers and malcontents not to be able to identify a criminal when I see one. I should have told Sergeant Orwelle to deny him permission to enter the town. Then matters would have turned out differently.’

‘But not much. Ailred and Frith would still have killed Turke, and Gosslinge would still have choked on vellum.’

‘We were correct to be suspicious about the deaths of Turke and Gosslinge. I thought Turke’s demise was odd, and you thought it strange that Turke and his servant should die in such quick succession. We were both right. You were also correct in believing Norbert’s death was linked to Turke’s: if Turke had not gone looking for the murder weapon, he might never have provided Frith and Ailred with a chance to force him on to thin ice.’

‘And we were right to think fish was a strand that tied the whole thing together,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Norbert’s tench, won from Harysone in a bet, was badly salted; bad salting was what initiated the final quarrel between Turke and Fiscurtune; and Harysone was a fishmonger, but his business – and his inheritance – were lost to Turke’s Fraternity of Fishmongers’ machinations. However, Quenhyth being the son of a fishmonger was merely coincidence.’

‘Harysone wrote that dreadful treatise about fish, and the very name “Fiscurtune” should have alerted us to the connection much sooner. Also, we should have noticed that both Frith and Ailred professed to hail from the vicinity of Lincoln.’

‘Lincoln is a large city, Brother. It might have been a spurious link. But, although we may have been right about many things, we made mistakes, too.’

‘You mean like you telling me Gosslinge had died from the cold, when he had in fact choked to death? Or you assuming Turke’s death was an accident when he had actually been murdered?’

Bartholomew winced. ‘Actually, I was thinking about Harysone. You were convinced he played a role in Gosslinge’s death, but he did not. Your feral belief was wrong.’

‘Only in the details,’ retorted Michael. ‘I was wrong about which particular crime Harysone committed, but I was right in my assumption that he was guilty of something.’

‘We made a mistake with Giles as well. We thought he was involved in something sinister, but he was not. The few times he did venture out on his painful feet were to buy a book on Philippa’s behalf, to indulge an idle and harmless curiosity about Dympna, or to arrange for Turke’s embalming. And when he was so clearly relieved to hear us say we would not investigate Turke’s odd death, it was not because he had a hand in it, but because he did not want his sister distressed. He was being kind.’