Susanna GREGORY - An Order for Death

‘You know about the activities of the nuns at St Radegund’s?’ asked Michael.

‘I imagine those will be known from here to Ely,’ replied Matilde dryly. ‘But the sisters are not concerned. Most men are uncomfortable with employing nuns for those sorts of services, and find it disconcerting to beckon the woman of their choice from her prayers in the church.’

‘I did not see much praying when we were there today,’ said Michael. ‘They claimed the church was too cold.’

‘Cold or not, that is where you will find them of an evening. The church is always open for “parishioners”, so the men can walk in and signal to whoever it is they want.’

‘How sordid,’ said Bartholomew in distaste.

Michael nodded agreement. ‘That sort of thing is much more pleasantly conducted in the conducive surroundings of a tavern. Churches are too stark for it.’

‘Thank you for that, Brother,’ said Matilde. ‘It is always good to know the views of monks on these matters. But not everyone at St Radegund’s is a nun, you know. Some are the daughters of noblemen, who have been left in the Prioress’s care until they can be married off.’

‘Most of them will be an unsaleable commodity if they remain there too long,’ said Michael with a chuckle. ‘It is scarcely a safe repository for virtuous young ladies.’

‘The worst of them all is that Tysilia,’ said Matilde disapprovingly. ‘I suppose men find her attractive because she is stupid. Presumably, her appalling lack of wits makes them feel superior.’

‘I take it you do not like her?’ asked Bartholomew mildly.

‘No,’ said Matilde shortly. ‘And if you meet her, you will see why. But I do not want to spoil a nice day by discussing her. What induced you to go to St Radegund’s in the first place? It is too early to secure the nuns’ personal services, although I am sure Tysilia would make an exception.’

‘I was following a clue regarding the murder of Will Walcote,’ replied Michael.

Matilde nodded slowly. ‘Yolande de Blaston – you remember her; she is married to the carpenter who worked at Michaelhouse last year – saw his body being cut down on her way home from the Mayor’s house. Poor Walcote. He was a good man.’

‘He was,’ agreed Michael. ‘Yolande did not see anything else, did she? Did she spot anyone who should not have been out at that time?’

‘No one should have been out at that time – including her,’ said Matilde. ‘It was well past the curfew. She did not mention anyone else, but I will ask. But this does not explain why you went to look for answers at St Radegund’s Convent.’

‘We learned that Walcote had a series of secret meetings with various scholars,’ said Michael vaguely. ‘They were held at the convent.’

‘Oh, those,’ said Matilde. ‘Yolande has a long-standing arrangement with Prior Lincolne of the Carmelites, but he cancelled her twice to attend these meetings.’

‘But I have only just learned about them,’ said Michael, astonished that Matilde should be in possession of information to which he had not been privy. Bartholomew smiled, amused that Lincolne should be so damning of the nuns’ behaviour when he had a ‘long-standing arrangement’ with one of the town’s most popular prostitutes.

‘I have known about the meetings for months,’ said Matilde carelessly. ‘The first one must have been around the time that Master Runham of Michaelhouse was buried, because I recall Yolande telling me that Lincolne later gave her one of the coins he had retrieved from Wilson’s effigy, to compensate her for the inconvenience of being postponed.’

‘How much later?’ asked Michael. ‘I want to know exactly when the first meeting took place.’

Matilde gave an apologetic shrug. ‘I am sorry, Brother, but I doubt whether Yolande will remember that. It was November or December.’

‘I do not suppose Lincolne told Yolande what was discussed at these meetings, did he?’ asked Michael hopefully.

Matilde frowned as she tried to remember. ‘Not precisely, but I know the leader of the Franciscans was there. And dear old Master Kenyngham from Michaelhouse. If Kenyngham were present, then you can be assured that nothing untoward was afoot.’

‘Nothing untoward involving Kenyngham,’ corrected Michael. ‘But Kenyngham is not one of the world’s most astute men, and he has a dangerous habit of assuming that everyone has good intentions. They have not. Kenyngham may not have understood what he was getting into.’

‘There is no suggestion that these meetings involved anything sinister,’ said Bartholomew. ‘They could have been discussing the term’s debating titles for all you know.’

‘In a convent that has a reputation for lewd behaviour? In the middle of the night? Without informing the Senior Proctor?’ Michael gave a snort of derision. ‘Do not speak drivel, Matt!’

‘Whatever it was must have been important,’ said Matilde thoughtfully. ‘Why else would such men risk going to a place like that at night? Still, I suppose it has the virtue of being the last place anyone would think of looking for them.’

‘Ask whether Yolande can recall anything that may help me,’ instructed Michael. ‘This case is quite baffling, and any information would be gratefully received.’

‘I can do better than that,’ said Matilde. ‘I have been feeling tired and bored lately, and I am in sore need of something to stimulate my wits. I think a brief sojourn at St Radegund’s might be exactly what is required.’

‘I do not think so,’ said Bartholomew uneasily. ‘It is not the kind of place you would enjoy at all. And anyway, I thought you did not like Tysilia.’

‘I do not,’ said Matilde. ‘And that is even more reason for me to pit my wits against hers and see whether her appalling stupidity is genuine.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Michael.

Matilde spread her hands. ‘What I say. I find it extraordinary that someone could be so dim-witted, and I cannot help but wonder whether it is a ruse to hide a very cunning mind.’

‘I thought the same thing,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I was even considering the possibility that she played some kind of role in these nocturnal meetings.’

‘I hardly think so!’ exclaimed Michael in disbelief. ‘Such as what?’

‘I do not know,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But she is the Bishop’s niece, and the Bishop would not be averse to using a relative to help him in his various plots.’

‘True, but not someone who genuinely believes that the moon is made of green cheese and that leaves fall from the trees in autumn because they are tired of holding on to the branch,’ said Michael. ‘She is just too stupid – an intelligent person would know she was overacting and moderate her performance to one that was more plausible.’

‘I disagree,’ said Bartholomew. ‘I think she is sitting in St Radegund’s at this very moment laughing to herself, because she thinks she has fooled you.’

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Matilde. She beamed suddenly, and clasped her hands in front of her. ‘But she will not fool me , and this is just the kind of challenge that will provide me with the kind of diversion I need. It is an excellent idea. I wish it had occurred to me earlier.’

‘It is a terrible idea,’ said Bartholomew firmly. ‘Michael is right: the time and place of these meetings suggests that they were not held to discuss something innocent, and that is precisely the reason why you should not go.’

‘They probably will not let you in, anyway,’ said Michael. ‘Even St Radegund’s cannot risk having the unofficial spokeswoman of the town’s prostitutes as a guest.’

Matilde grinned conspiratorially. ‘Do you recall when you invited me to the Founder’s Feast at Michaelhouse a couple of years ago, Matthew? You should remember – we were virtually the only ones who were sober at the end of it.’