Susanna GREGORY - A Summer of Discontent

‘He drowned, then?’ asked Michael. ‘Did anyone see him drunk or walking near the water?’

‘That is what I want you to find out,’ said de Lisle. ‘And then, at dawn yesterday, another man was found dead, floating near the hythes in the same river.’

‘Haywarde,’ muttered Bartholomew, recalling what the malcontent Leycestre had told them. ‘A suicide.’

‘Quite. But it is only a matter of time before that vile-minded rabble in the city claim that my Bishop killed him, too,’ said Ralph indignantly. ‘That is why he sent word for you to come yesterday .’ His stress indicated that he strongly disapproved of Michael’s tardiness.

‘Your task is to exonerate me from these malicious and wholly untrue charges,’ said de Lisle to Michael. ‘You must begin immediately; there is not a moment to lose.’

‘Very well,’ said Michael. ‘But is there anything else I should know about this case? Have you and Blanche’s steward argued in public at any time? Did any of your household issue threats against the man?’

‘Glovere was a vile specimen of humanity,’ said de Lisle with distaste. ‘I have never known such a misery. All he did was complain; he was even unpopular among Blanche’s retinue.’

‘That is true,’ agreed Ralph. ‘He was hated intensely by anyone who knew him. Blanche loathed him, too, and she is only showing concern for him because he is dead.’

‘I see,’ said Michael. ‘But neither of you has answered my question. Was Glovere the subject of threats from the Bishop’s household?’

‘I doubt we were any more hostile to him than the unfortunates in Blanche’s employ who were obliged to work closely with the fellow,’ said de Lisle ambiguously.

‘So, you did threaten him,’ surmised Michael thoughtfully. ‘That could prove awkward. What did you say, exactly?’

De Lisle gave a sigh. ‘It all happened two weeks ago – four days before his death. I happened to meet Blanche, here in the priory – she stays here when she visits her Ely estates, because it is more comfortable than the shabby manor house Glovere maintained for her. Naturally, I told her that I was disappointed with the King’s verdict over the burning of her tenants’ houses, and we started to argue.’

‘Glovere took part in the disagreement, even though it was none of his affair,’ elaborated Ralph. ‘He became abusive, and claimed that my Lord Bishop was the kind of man to father children and then abandon the mothers.’

‘Really,’ said Michael flatly. He kept his voice neutral, as though he did not know for a fact that the Bishop had indeed fathered children, and that Michael and Bartholomew had encountered one of them fairly recently.

‘I wonder what gave him that impression.’

‘The monks were appalled, both by the foulness of Glovere’s language and by his unfounded accusations,’ continued Ralph hotly, outraged on de Lisle’s behalf. ‘The only way my Bishop could shut him up was to threaten him with dire consequences if he did not.’

‘So, the entire priory heard you promising him harm,’ mused Michael, regarding the prelate gloomily. ‘This is not looking good at all.’

‘Even the most dim-witted Benedictine must have seen that the threat was made purely to silence him,’ said de Lisle testily. ‘No sane person could imagine it was issued in earnest.’

‘It is not the dim-witted and the sane I am worried about,’ said Michael. ‘It is the sharp-witted and the in sane, who may well use this nasty little incident against you. Not all the monks here like you, and one may well have capitalised on the enmity between you and Blanche to have you accused of this crime.’

‘If it is a crime,’ suggested Bartholomew tentatively. ‘Ralph said that Glovere had simply fallen in the river. If that is true, then any threats to kill him are irrelevant.’

‘True,’ agreed de Lisle approvingly. ‘If Michael can prove that the man died in his cups, then there is no way Blanche or anyone else can substantiate this charge of murder.’

‘What about the man who died yesterday?’ asked Michael. ‘Did you quarrel with him, too?’

‘I had never heard of him before he was carried dripping to St Mary’s Church,’ said de Lisle. ‘I do not even recall his name. I have no idea what is happening here, but I do not like it at all.’

‘Will Haywarde,’ said Ralph. ‘He was a suicide, but you know how people let their imaginations run away with them. Mark my words, it will not be long before one of these silly monks puts two with two to get six.’

‘What about the theft from your house ten days ago?’ asked Michael of de Lisle. ‘Do you have any idea what happened there?’

De Lisle did not seem particularly interested. ‘The rumour is that the gypsies did that – the burglaries started in the city the day after they arrived, you see.’

‘If everyone is so convinced of their guilt, then why are they tolerated here?’ asked Bartholomew curiously. ‘Why are they not driven away?’

‘Because we need them for the harvest,’ explained de Lisle. ‘They undertake the heaviest and least popular work, and it is in no one’s interests to send them away now. People will just have to lock their windows and doors, and be a little more careful until they have gone.’

‘What was stolen from you, exactly?’ pressed Michael. ‘Were any documents missing?’

De Lisle smiled wanly at him. ‘I know what you are thinking: the burglary was political, rather than a case of random theft. But, fortunately for me, you are wrong. I had a number of sensitive documents on my desk, but these were ignored. I lost a silver plate and a ring – things that an opportunistic burglar would snatch because they are saleable and easy to carry.’

Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered the information.

‘You will prove me innocent of any involvement in these unfortunate deaths,’ instructed de Lisle when the monk did not reply. ‘And do it quickly. I cannot leave Ely until this is settled and I have business elsewhere that needs attending.’

Michael nodded. ‘Very well. I–’ But he was speaking to thin air. The Bishop had swung around and was stalking across the courtyard towards the cathedral, with his sycophants strewn out behind him as they hurried to catch up.

‘And this is the man to whom you have tied your ambitions?’ asked Bartholomew doubtfully. ‘He does not seem to be the kind of person who would remember favours done. In fact, I imagine he would expect loyalty, but then slit your throat when you have outlived your usefulness to him.’

‘You have not seen him in his best light,’ said Michael defensively. ‘He is a good man at heart. He was one of few bishops in the country who visited the sick during the Death, and he does pen a remarkable sermon.’

‘It occurs to me that he might be qualified to give one on his personal experience of murder,’ said Bartholomew nervously. ‘I hope you know that he may not be innocent of this crime, Brother. He denies it, but so do most killers, and I do not see him offering any good reasons as to why he could not have killed this Glovere.’

‘That is what I must find out,’ said Michael, turning to steer Bartholomew towards the Prior’s house. ‘I do not imagine it will take me long. I shall inspect the corpses of these drowned men this afternoon, assuming they are still above ground, and will lay the matter to rest once and for all.’

‘I suppose you want me to go with you,’ said Bartholomew heavily. ‘To see what clues might be found on the bodies.’

‘No,’ said Michael, opening the door that led to the Prior’s private garden and pushing his friend inside. ‘I want to introduce you to Prior Alan, and then I want you to spend your few days here reading about fevers. That is why you came, after all.’