Susanna GREGORY - An Order for Death

‘What is your name?’ he demanded.

The student-friar jumped nervously. He was about the same age as Faricius, and had a mop of red-brown hair that was worn overly long. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose gave him a curiously adolescent appearance, and his grubby fingers had nails that had been chewed almost to the quick. There was nothing distinctive or unusual about him, and he looked just like any other young man whose family had decided that a career in the Church would provide him with a secure future.

‘Simon Lynne,’ he replied in a low voice, casting an anxious glance at the other student.

‘What can you tell us about Faricius, Simon?’ asked Bartholomew, in a kinder tone of voice than Michael had used.

‘He was a peace-loving man,’ stated the other student hotly. He was a thickset lad who was missing two of his front teeth. ‘He would never have started a fight with the Dominicans.’

‘We were not talking to you,’ said Michael, silencing him with a cool gaze. ‘We were speaking to Lynne.’

Lynne swallowed, his eyes flicking anxiously to Faricius’s body. ‘Horneby is right. Faricius was not a violent man. He came to Cambridge last September, and was only interested in his lessons and his prayers.’

‘Do you know why he happened to be out of the friary when your Prior and I expressly instructed that everyone should remain inside?’ asked Michael. ‘Was he given to breaking orders?’

‘No, never. He always did as he was told,’ said Lynne.

‘Then why was he out?’ pressed Michael.

‘He was not,’ said Lynne unsteadily. ‘He remained in the friary to read when the rest of us went with Prior Lincolne to pin that proclamation to the church door. After that, you ordered the gates closed and they did not open again until Prior Lincolne was summoned here.’

Michael was growing impatient. ‘But if Faricius had been safely inside, he would not be lying here now, dead. At some point, he left the friary and was attacked. How? Is it possible to scale the walls? Is there a back gate? Are the porters bribable, and willing to open the gates for a price?’

‘No,’ said Lincolne immediately. ‘All our porters are commoners – men who have retired from teaching and live in the friary at our expense. They are not bribable, because they would not risk being ejected from their comfortable posts by breaking our rules.’

‘The walls, then?’ pressed Michael irritably. ‘Did Faricius climb over the walls?’

‘Impossible,’ said Lincolne. ‘They are twice the height of a man and are plastered, so there are no footholds. And anyway, he was not a monkey, Brother.’

Michael sighed in exasperation. ‘You are telling me that it was impossible for Faricius to have left your friary – more precisely, you are telling me that he did not leave your friary. But he was found in Milne Street at the height of the skirmish with the Dominicans. How do you explain that?’

‘It seems we cannot,’ said Lincolne, with a shrug that made him appear uncharacteristically helpless. ‘You will have to ask the Dominicans.’

‘You want me to enquire of the Dominicans how a Carmelite friar escaped from within your own walls without any of you knowing how he did it?’ asked Michael incredulously. ‘That would certainly provide them with a tale with which to amuse themselves at your expense!’

Lincolne grimaced, uncomfortable with that notion. ‘Unpleasant though this may be for us, that is where your answer will lie, Brother.’

Michael closed his eyes, and Bartholomew expected the monk to show a sudden display of temper, to try to frighten the Carmelites into telling him the truth. It was patently obvious that Lynne was hiding something, and that even if he had not actually lied, he had certainly not told the complete truth. Whether Lincolne and Horneby were also lying was unclear, although Bartholomew found he had taken a dislike to the fanatical Prior and his gap-toothed novice for their uncompromising belligerence. Their reaction to Faricius’s death seemed more akin to outrage that a crime had been committed against their Order, than grief for a man reputedly scholarly and peaceable.

But Michael had had enough of the Carmelites. He nodded curtly, and left them to the business of laying out their colleague and of saying prayers for him. Bartholomew followed him out of the church, and then stood with him in the grassy churchyard, where the monk took several deep breaths to calm himself. Walcote, who came to report that the Dominicans were all safely locked in their friary, joined them and listened to Michael’s terse summary.

‘One of their number has been murdered,’ said Michael angrily. ‘You would think they would be only too happy to co-operate and provide us with the information we need to solve the crime.’

‘They probably thought they did, Brother,’ said Walcote soothingly.

‘They were hiding something,’ snapped Michael. ‘In the case of Lynne, I have never seen a more uncomfortable liar.’

Bartholomew agreed. ‘Lynne was about as furtive a lad as I have ever encountered, but that does not mean to say he was concealing anything to do with Faricius’s curious absence from the friary.’

‘What do you think?’ demanded Michael of his Junior Proctor. ‘Why do you think the Carmelites would withhold information from me?’

Walcote shrugged. ‘Something to do with this nominalism – realism debate, perhaps. It is possible that they intend to write further proclamations, and do not want the proctors to prevent them from doing so. It is also possible that Lincolne is telling the truth, but that Faricius’s classmates were prevaricating because they do not wish to speak ill of the dead.’

Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I suppose Faricius may have broken the rules and slipped out, and Lynne and Horneby do not want their Prior to think badly of him now that he is dead. But I am not convinced. Having spoken to Lynne, I think there is more to Faricius’s stabbing than a case of a lone Carmelite being stupid enough to walk into a gang of brawling Dominicans.’

Bartholomew nodded slowly. ‘So, we agree that Lynne was lying – although we cannot be sure about Lincolne and Horneby. Ergo , there are two possibilities: either Lynne was lying of his own accord and was uncomfortable doing so in the presence of his Prior; or all three constructed some tale between them that Lynne was uneasy in telling.’

‘I am tempted to march right back in there and shake the truth out of them,’ said Michael testily. ‘But that would only convince Lincolne that I am determined to divert blame from the Dominicans. I shall have to catch Lynne alone, and then we shall see how his lies stand up to some serious prodding.’

‘Was Faricius really the scholarly man they would have us believe?’ mused Bartholomew. ‘Or was he just like the rest of them – a lout in a habit spoiling for a fight?’

‘He was scholarly, right enough,’ said Walcote. ‘I told you earlier that he attended lectures and that I admired his thinking.’

‘You need to decide whether Faricius really did remain in the friary to read when the others went to watch Lincolne pin his proclamation to the church door, or whether Lynne has just been told to say he did,’ said Bartholomew to Michael.

Michael smiled craftily. ‘I am glad you seem interested in this crime, Matt. You can help me solve it, as you have done before.’

Bartholomew balked at this. ‘No, Brother! I am too busy to spend my time chasing murderers with you. And anyway, that is why you have a Junior Proctor.’

Walcote shook his head. ‘The last week of Lent is always busy for us. The students are restless, and we are anticipating more trouble. It will be difficult for us to solve murders and keep peace in the town.’