Susanna Gregory - A Wicked Deed

‘We saw a light the night we were attacked,’ Bartholomew went on. ‘I thought it was a traveller seeking shelter, but no traveller would ever stay — be allowed to stay — in Barchester. That was Eltisley working over his potions.’

Michael sighed. ‘Eltisley might believe he is a veritable genius, and that he has intellectual powers to rival the likes of Roger Bacon, but he is sadly mistaken. Someone else is involved in all this — someone who has enough money to buy Eltisley all he needs for his experiments, and someone who does not want us to have our advowson.’

‘Somehow, the deed seems to pale into insignificance when all this is considered,’ said Bartholomew, jerking backward as something nosed at his hand.

‘But someone stole it from me in the churchyard. It is important. It must be something to do with the fact that someone in Tuddenham’s family does not want a representative from Michaelhouse to be the executor of his will.’

‘I forgot about the will,’ said Bartholomew, not very interested, but wanting to keep Michael talking so that they would not be sitting in silence in the tomb with only the rustle of rats for company. ‘That was one of the terms Alcote agreed with Tuddenham, was it not?’

‘It was the one Tuddenham was most insistent upon,’ said Michael. ‘It is a good decision: he will have an executor who is completely independent, should there be any unpleasantness, and his heirs will save a good deal on legal fees.’

‘Why should there be unpleasantness?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘The line of inheritance is clear: if Isilia’s child is a boy, he will inherit; if it is a girl, Hamon will inherit.’

‘There will only be difficulties if Tuddenham dies before the child is born,’ said Michael, ‘because his will stipulates that no child born after his death can inherit. But this is all irrelevant since Tuddenham is in good health.’

Bartholomew gazed at him in the darkness. He considered keeping his silence, but the promise had been to keep the knight’s illness from his family, not from Michael. ‘But Tuddenham has a mortal illness, and will not live to see himself a father again.’

Michael let out his breath in a long sigh. ‘Why did you not mention this before? Now it begins to make sense. Now I understand why Tuddenham is so desperate to have the advowson signed and sealed before we go. He wants Hamon to inherit, not his unborn child.’

‘But he could stipulate that in his will anyway,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He does not need Michaelhouse’s help to do that.’

‘But Michaelhouse will see his wishes fulfilled in a way that few other executors will be able to do. We have no vested interest in who inherits and who does not — the living of the church is ours whatever happens — and we have the power of the Church behind us, not to mention some of the best legal minds in the country. The real issue is that there are ancient laws that might override Tuddenham’s choice of heirs — a son is a son. Even Henry the Second was obliged to leave his kingdom to his hated oldest son, and not his favourite younger child. Hamon will need our expertise if he is to inherit Tuddenham’s estates.’

‘But what does Tuddenham have against his unborn child?’ asked Bartholomew, kicking out and feeling something soft fly away from his foot. ‘He seems happy with Isilia. Unless … ‘He trailed off, thinking.

‘Unless what, Matt?’ asked Michael. ‘I beg you, if you have any more information, please do not keep it to yourself. Small things that seem unimportant to you might make a great deal of difference to the law.’

Bartholomew took a deep breath. ‘It is probably not his child that Isilia is carrying.’

Bartholomew could imagine the expression on the monk’s sardonic face. ‘And how are you party to that intimate little detail?’

‘The disease he has tends to take away the ability to father children. I was surprised by the fact that Isilia was pregnant when I first learned of his illness, but he probably knows Isilia’s child is not his. Do you think that would give him cause enough to insist so vehemently that we finish our business here, and leave with the documents that will allow Hamon to inherit?’

‘I do indeed,’ said Michael. ‘And it would give Hamon good reason for wanting the advowson signed quickly, too. But who would oppose it?’

‘Isilia, for one,’ said Bartholomew. He drew his hand up with a sharp intake of breath, when something grazed it with what felt like teeth. He continued, somewhat unsteadily, rubbing his wrist. ‘Also, Dame Eva does not seem to like Hamon very much, while Wauncy might not approve of Hamon inheriting over Isilia’s offspring.’

‘But we have no evidence to connect Eltisley with any of these people,’ said Michael. ‘And I am wearing sandals, and I can feel fur and scrabbling claws all over my feet!’

‘The person behind all this must be Isilia,’ said Bartholomew, not wanting to think about scaly rat feet climbing on Michael’s bare toes. ‘No one else would know the child was not Tuddenham’s. All her caring attentions towards him must be an act — he knows this and he does not want her to see he is ill until the deed appointing Michaelhouse as his executor is safely in Cambridge.’

‘You are right,’ said Michael, trying to sit with his feet in the air. ‘Well, she had the fooled, too, with her lovely, innocent face and her touching concern for the husband old enough to be her father. She probably did not want to marry him in the first place. And who can blame her? He is like a horse, with all those long teeth.’

‘But there is also the father of the child,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He would have an interest in it inheriting over Hamon, and might try to prevent the advowson from being completed.’

‘Do you know who that might be?’ asked Michael. ‘It cannot be Hamon, or none of this would be an issue. Is it Grosnold, do you think? Or Wauncy?’

‘Or Eltisley?’ asked Bartholomew in distaste.

‘Eltisley has killed four times,’ said Cynric. ‘Alice Quy, James Freeman, Deblunville and Alcote. He will not hesitate to do so again.’

‘I suspect, with hindsight, that he also tried to poison us with that brown sludge the first night we stayed at the Half Moon, given how insistent he was that we finish the bottle,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He was pleased when he saw the bottle was empty, not knowing that Deynman had spilled it on the floor. Alcote drank a little, and was quite ill.’

‘And then, once it became clear that Alcote was the man writing the deed and that the rest of us were mere onlookers, attempts were made on Alcote alone,’ said Michael. ‘He was unwell most of the time he was here, suggesting that some insidious poison was in the food he ate — or in the copious amounts of raisins he devoured — and then there was the attack on him the night before he died.’

Cynric leapt to his feet and began kicking out furiously. There were several squeals, and something soft thumped into Bartholomew, who thrust it away from him with a shudder.

‘Eltisley thinks he is beyond the law,’ said Michael. ‘Sit down, Cynric! You keep kicking these things into my lap. Why Isilia should consider forming an alliance with Eltisley is beyond me. He is likely to kill her, to see if she can be resurrected.’

‘I do not see how they are connected, though,’ said Cynric. ‘Isilia and Eltisley. She is sweet and kind, and he is a maniac.’

‘Do not let appearances deceive you, Cynric,’ said Michael sagely. ‘Behind that lovely face lies a mind as strong and cunning as a rat trap — which I would give a good deal to have one of right now. She must have paid him to destroy his tavern with Alcote in it, and snatched the copy of the will from me in the churchyard.’