Susanna GREGORY - Murder by the Book

‘There is one more thing.’ Shropham’s expression was one of inner torment: it pained him to tell tales on a colleague. ‘I happened to glance in his room this morning. The drawings have gone.’

‘Why did you not tell us this immediately?’ demanded Michael, horrified.

‘Why would I? Sketching weapons is not illegal, and he has not actually done anything wrong.’

But Shropham did not look convinced by his own argument, and neither were Bartholomew and Michael. Without further ado, they left King’s Hall and hurried into the High Street, feeling that time was slipping inexorably away.

‘Walkelate has not gone to muster his artisans,’ said Bartholomew in despair. ‘He has gone to consort with the robbers – to give them what he has invented. Assuming he has not done so already.’

‘No,’ said Michael, albeit uncertainly. ‘There is nothing to connect him to them.’

‘Yes, there is. Browne heard the raiders talking in Cholles Lane – the place where Walkelate’s helpmeets assembled before they went to experiment. That cannot be a coincidence. Besides, why else would he have taken his diagrams?’

‘Even if you are right, drawings are not the same as an actual device,’ Michael pointed out. ‘He can sell his theory, but he cannot sell the weapon itself.’

‘Dick Tulyet has a ribauldequin,’ said Bartholomew wretchedly. ‘I saw it at the castle. Walkelate was one of several scholars who helped him design it.’

‘Then we need not worry,’ said Michael in relief. ‘If it is in the castle, then the invaders do not have it. And if a ribauldequin is the only way wildfire can be deployed, then they are foiled.’

‘It is stored in the chapel now, but it was in the Great Tower.’ Bartholomew’s thoughts were racing. ‘I suggested that the robbers might have wanted it, but Dick said no.’

‘He may be right, Matt – such a device would not be easy to whisk away in a lightning raid. But forget it for now: we need to concentrate on Walkelate. I doubt he has gone to the Fens, because if he is involved with the robbers, he will know that they are coming here. He will have gone to one of his surviving accomplices. And not Holm, before you say it.’

‘Riborowe has an unhealthy interest in artillery.’ Bartholomew jabbed a finger. ‘And there he is now, slinking along in a manner that is distinctly furtive!’

Riborowe broke into a run when he saw Bartholomew and Michael bearing down on him, his skeletal legs pumping furiously as he tore towards his friary. He moved fast, and had reached St Mary the Great before Bartholomew managed to bring him down with a flying tackle. He struggled, spat and scratched furiously until Michael arrived to help secure him.

‘Walkelate,’ growled the monk, seizing him by the scruff of his neck. ‘Where is he?’

‘I have no idea,’ snapped Riborowe. ‘But if you think to accuse me of helping Northwood cheat the friary over those exemplars, then you have the wrong man. It was Jorz. He was the one who told Northwood how many to expect, and which ones could be declared inferior. He confessed it to me the night he died. He, Northwood and Walkelate were experimenting together.’

‘Then why did you not tell me immediately?’ demanded Michael angrily.

‘Because I am frightened of him ,’ shouted Riborowe, jabbing a bony finger at Bartholomew. ‘It was unnerving when he appeared so soon after we discovered Jorz’s corpse, especially given that Jorz had seen him releasing Satan’s familiar by the river.’

Michael grimaced his exasperation. ‘Tell me about Walkelate and his love of weapons.’

‘Why do you–’ Riborowe saw the dangerous expression on the monk’s face and began to gabble. ‘He is especially interested in ribauldequins, and we worked together on the one the Sheriff built for the King. He imposed some peculiar modifications, although he declined to tell me why. He made a second one, too, but I do not know where he keeps it.’

‘A second one?’ cried Bartholomew in dismay. He turned to Michael. ‘Supposing the raiders already have it?’

Michael regarded the Carmelite in distaste. ‘And you accuse Matt of dealing with the Devil! He cures people, while you devise ways to kill them.’

‘I am not the only one,’ bleated Riborowe. ‘Northwood was interested in artillery, too. He pretended to find it shocking, and refused to help the Sheriff, but in reality he was fascinated by it.’

‘Tell me about the second ribauldequin,’ ordered Michael. ‘How is it different from Tulyet’s?’

‘I do not know. Walkelate and Northwood never let me see the final result.’ Riborowe freed himself from the monk’s grasp and backed away. ‘I am going to leave Cambridge today. It is too full of men with alarming ideas. I shall join a convent in another town – one without mad experimenters and Corpse Examiners running riot.’

‘Hypocrite!’ spat Michael, watching him scuttle away. ‘He knows he has contributed to something terrible, but is not man enough to admit it.’

‘Why are you letting him go?’ asked Bartholomew, agitated and unhappy. ‘He is our only lead to Walkelate.’

‘He does not know where Walkelate is, or what his plans are. Walkelate has been using him, pumping him for technical information while telling him nothing in return. And I suspect Walkelate did the same with Jorz, Northwood, Vale and the London brothers.’

Bartholomew was not so sure, but there was no time to discuss it. ‘How do we find Walkelate now?’

‘By interrogating another of his accomplices,’ said Michael grimly. ‘Gyseburne will be–’

‘Holm,’ countered Bartholomew. ‘We should check Holm first because … because he lives nearer, and you are tired.’

Michael shot him a rueful glance for his transparency, but turned towards Cholles Lane anyway. All along the High Street, houses were being bedecked with red blossoms, and the churches had their doors open. The flowers smelled strong, and Bartholomew was uncomfortably reminded of Ayera and his penchant for poisonous blooms. Everywhere, people were greeting each other cheerfully, and scholars and townsfolk alike were girding themselves up for fun.

‘You must postpone the library’s opening – at least, until we find Walkelate,’ said Bartholomew.

Michael nodded. ‘Yes. Although Dunning will never forgive us …’

‘Tell Dick to cancel the pageant, too. Every dignitary and cleric in Cambridge plans to take part in it, while virtually every man, woman and child will be watching. We cannot let it go ahead when we fear an atrocity in the making. It would be immoral.’

‘What about the plan to lure the raiders here, so we can engage them in battle?’ panted Michael. ‘They will not come if the ceremonies are called off, and Shropham was right – we cannot endure weeks of uncertainty while we wait for their next assault.’

‘Dick thought Shropham’s plan reckless, and so did Dame Pelagia. The Guild of Corpus Christi has supported it, but only because cancelling the event will lose them money. Dick should do as he suggested last night – declare a state of military law until the robbers have been caught.’

Michael was silent for a moment, then burst out with, ‘But wildfire, Matt! I do not think that Walkelate would unleash such a terrible substance on us.’

‘He took two of the most wicked weapons ever to be invented, and combined them. How can you even think that such a man has a conscience?’

Michael waylaid two passing beadles, and sent one to the castle with the recommendation that the Sheriff postpone the pageant, and the other to Dunning, to explain why he was going to be deprived of his moment of glory. Then he and Bartholomew ran the short distance to Holm’s house, which they found with all its windows shuttered and its door closed. They exchanged a glance: was the fact that the surgeon had declined to lower his guard evidence that he knew what was about to befall the town?