The Medieval Murderers - The Tainted Relic

Michael rubbed his eyes. ‘I do not know what to think. However, there is something about that particular relic…but my thoughts are irrelevant. Our duty is to assess the evidence you found and draw rational conclusions from it. Are you sure about this chimney? Is it possible Tomas put the harness and stones there, to confound us for some reason? There is something about him I do not trust-and now he admits to expertise in murder investigations.’

Bartholomew smiled. ‘And this “something about him I do not trust” is a dispassionate analysis of the evidence, is it? But I suppose it is possible he placed the rope and masonry by the chimney for us to find, although I cannot imagine why. He was very helpful when we were up there-he saved me from falling.’

Michael grimaced. ‘We are destined to agree about nothing in this case, Matt. You believe the Carmelites are our best suspects, while I remain suspicious of Seton. You consider the relic nothing special, while I feel there is something unique about it. And you admire Tomas, while all my senses clamour at me to be wary of him. I do not like the way he seems to feature in the various strands of our investigation-and just chances to stroll by when you need help on the roof. But tell me again about what you found. What do the harness and stones mean?’

‘That someone really did kill Witney, and made it appear as though the stone fell on him by accident. It is an unusual way to kill, and not one without difficulties: what if the perpetrator killed the wrong man; how could he be sure his victim would obligingly stick his head up the chimney at the right time…?’

‘Perhaps he did not kill the right man,’ suggested Michael. ‘Witney is dead, but that does not mean he was the intended victim. All you would see from the top of a chimney would be a head-shaped silhouette. Perhaps our killer failed in his objective, and even now is stalking his real victim. I should tell Andrew as soon as possible, and ensure he takes proper precautions.’

He broke off the discussion when Tomas returned. The Dominican made straight for the harness they had retrieved and began to inspect it. Michael assumed an expression of friendly interest as he walked towards him, and Bartholomew knew from experience that an interrogation was about to take place.

‘I understand you and I have shared similar experiences,’ said Michael. ‘I did not know you were a proctor.’

Tomas returned his smile. He had a pleasant face, and dark eyes that twinkled when he laughed. ‘Keeping law and order in Pécs took so much time that my studies suffered, and I was obliged to resign. It was an interesting life, but not nearly as fascinating as angels.’

‘But you are intrigued by this particular case,’ said Michael, and the smile turned cold. ‘It was not safe to climb on that roof, yet you did so willingly. Why?’

‘To help your colleague,’ said Tomas, sounding surprised the monk should ask. ‘You are right: it was dangerous, and it was unfair to send him up there alone. You should have gone with him yourself.’

Michael glared, although Bartholomew thought he had a point. It was not the first time the monk had merrily ordered his friend to do something risky because he did not fancy doing it himself.

‘What conclusion have you drawn from your discoveries?’ asked the monk icily.

‘That you have a murderer to catch. It is clear someone wanted to kill someone else-whether Witney or another man. Also, your villain tried to conceal the unlawful killing-he used the chimney in the hope that you would see Witney’s death as an unfortunate accident. Perhaps he wanted you to believe the cursed relic was responsible.’

Michael looked superior. ‘We have already reasoned this ourselves.’

‘Not about the relic,’ said Bartholomew, earning himself a weary glower.

‘I suspect the killer wanted you to see Witney’s death as divine intervention, an angry saint, or Barzac’s malediction,’ Tomas went on. ‘He will be angry when he learns his ruse did not work.’

‘You seem very familiar with Andrew’s relic,’ said Michael, his voice dripping with suspicion. ‘I was under the impression that he tells very few people about it.’

Bartholomew did not agree. He had not noticed much reluctance on the elderly friar’s part to discuss the ‘burden’ he carried. And if he had willingly shared the information with Michael, then in whom else had he confided?

‘Father Andrew did not tell me about it,’ replied Tomas. ‘Indeed, I have never spoken to the man. It was Witney who obliged. He was intrigued by it, and asked me to go with him to various libraries, to help research the validity of the accompanying letters of authentication. He had learned that a bishop of Durham’s seal was used, but that the man who signed it was no bishop.’

‘Why did he ask you to help him?’ asked Michael. ‘And why did you agree?’

‘He asked because I am a Dominican and he was a Franciscan. Our Orders disagree about blood relics, as you know: you expounded on the matter only yesterday. Witney said he wanted a man from the opposing side of the argument to be with him as he investigated, in case Andrew’s relic transpired to be important-I would be an independent witness who would substantiate his findings without prejudice. I agreed, because I have an interest in the Holy Blood debate myself.’

Michael narrowed his eyes. ‘And where did Witney stand in the polemic? Did he follow his Order’s teachings, and declare blood relics worthy of veneration? Or was he swayed by the arguments of the Dominicans, and believed such items to be anathema, to be destroyed as heretical idols of veneration?’

‘I imagine he was an adherent of his own Order’s theology,’ replied Tomas, unperturbed by the monk’s hostility. ‘We discussed the issue at length, but neither of us injected personal opinions into the discourse-we argued purely along theosophical lines. To do otherwise would have been highly unprofessional.’

Bartholomew grinned. The previous day, Michael had been unable to resist adding his own views-some of them emotive and unsupported by logical deduction-to the thesis he had outlined.

Michael pursed his lips. ‘So, you cannot tell me whether Witney’s obsession with Andrew’s relic was because he wanted it revered or wanted it destroyed?’

‘No,’ replied Tomas. ‘He never told me, and I did not know him well enough to ask. It is easy for a Benedictine, like you, to state his mind freely, because your Order has not taken a dogmatic stance on the matter. However, to enquire of a Dominican or a Franciscan whether he accepts his Order’s teaching is a different matter entirely. You are asking him whether he is loyal or perfidious.’

Michael rubbed his chin. ‘Now we have issues of fidelity to consider when we explore the circumstances of Witney’s death. Was our victim true to his Order’s beliefs, or did he think them erroneous? And, since you do not know the answer, we must ask his friend Seton.’

Michael was to be disappointed when he went to interview Seton, because the Oxford academic was not at home. Bartholomew refused to wait until he returned, on the grounds that the man could be gone all day, listening to lectures or reading in one of the college libraries, and opted to visit the Dominican priory instead: he wanted to see the injured Bulmer, and examine his swollen jaw. Michael offered to accompany him. His investigation was at a standstill until he could interview Seton, but there were other proctorial duties awaiting, one of which was determining whether the Dominican novice had been ogling prostitutes when Kip Roughe had fought him. If that were true, then Michael would impose a hefty fine as a way of warning him-and his friends-not to do it again.