But all this does not answer our basic question: what was the real cause of last night's violence?'
'Perhaps the way forward is to investigate the crimes that were perpetrated under its cover: for example the rape of that woman, and the burglary at Deschalers's home,' suggested Bartholomew.
'Those among others!' said Tulyet with resignation. 'I have had reports of three similar lootings — where only what was easily carried and of the highest value was stolen — and there are the nine deaths to consider.'
'Do you think one of those nine is at the heart of all this?' asked Bartholomew.
Tulyet shrugged. 'I think it unlikely. The only one of any standing or influence was the young friar from Godwinsson.'
Bartholomew told him about the visit he and Michael had paid to Godwinsson Hostel and the possible roles of the student friars, Edred and Werbergh, in Kenzie's death.
'Godwinsson,' mused Tulyet. 'Now that I find interesting.'
He went to a wall cupboard and poured two goblets of wine, inviting Bartholomew to sit on one of the hard, functional benches that ran along the walls of his office.
Once his guest was settled as comfortably as possible on the uncompromising wood, Tulyet perched on the edge of the table. He swirled the wine around in his goblet, and regarded Bartholomew thoughtfully.
'We should talk more often,' he said. 'Not only are two of the dead from last night students of Godwinsson — a friar and a Frenchman — but this morning, the Principal of Godwinsson told me that his wife is missing.'
'So, Mistress Lydgate has flown the nest,' mused Michael, leaning back in his chair and smiling maliciously. 'Well, I for one cannot blame her, although I would say the same if it were the other way around, and Lydgate had taken to his heels.'
'A most charitable attitude, Brother,' said Bartholomew mildly. 'It is good to see that compassion is not dead and gone in the Benedictine Order.'
Tulyet was sitting on the chest in Bartholomew's room at Michaelhouse sipping some of the sour wine left from breakfast. Because it was dark, and therefore after the early curfew imposed following the riot, Tulyet had escorted Bartholomew back to Michaelhouse. The streets had been silent and deserted, but Bartholomew had been unnerved to detect a very real atmosphere of unease and anticipation. Doors of houses were not fully closed and voices whispered within.
'This is an unpleasant brew,' said Tulyet, looking in distaste at the deep red wine in his goblet. 'I would have expected better from Michaelhouse.'
'Then you must go to the Senior Fellow's chamber,' said Michael. 'He is the man with the taste, and the purse, for fine wines, not a poor Benedictine and an impoverished physician. But tell us about Mistress Lydgate. What happened at Godwinsson last night?'
Tulyet shrugged. 'Master Lydgate was out all night and discovered his wife was missing when he returned this morning.'
'Why was the Principal of a University hostel abroad on such a night?' demanded Michael. 'Why was he not at home, ensuring his students kept out of mischief, and protecting his hostel? And more to the point, why is he bothering you about his missing wife?'
Tulyet shook his head. Tt just slipped out. He came to the Castle this morning to identify a couple of the people killed last night. He was in quite a temper, and ranted on to me for some time about the audacity of his students to get themselves killed when it was so inconvenient for him. When I asked him what he meant he blustered for a while. Eventually he revealed that his wife had left him.'
'And where did he say he was last night, instead of locking up his wife and students?' asked Michael.
'I was told, begrudgingly — for I was assured his whereabouts were none of the Sheriffs concern — that he had been dining at Maud's Hostel and had remained there when he saw how the streets seethed with violence.'
'Maud's?' asked Bartholomew, pricking up his ears.
'Two of my students claimed they stayed at Maud's last night. I can ask them to verify Lydgate's alibi.'
'Can you indeed?' said Tulyet, fixing bright eyes on Bartholomew. 'Master Lydgate will not be pleased to hear that. It is no secret that the Master of Maud's — Thomas Bigod — is not kindly disposed to secular law, and would never confirm or deny an alibi to help me. Bigod recently lost title to a wealthy manor in the secular courts, and is said to have missed out on a fortune because of it. He holds me, as the embodiment of secular law in the area, responsible for his misfortune.'
'He is none too fond of University law, either,' said Michael gleefully. 'Guy Heppel arrested him the other night for being drunk and disorderly. Unfortunately, he ended up being our guest for longer than necessary because Heppel lost the keys to the cells.'
Tulyet roared with laughter and clapped his hands.
'Excellent! I wish I could have seen that! Heppel, for all his physical frailty, knows how to give a man his just deserts. Bigod has been a thorn in my side for months, using every opportunity to thwart the course of law and justice.'
'And I imagine Lydgate is only too aware of Bigod's antipathy to you,' said Bartholomew, 'which is why Lydgate chose him to provide an alibi.' He went to the door and told a passing student to fetch Gray and Deynman.
Tulyet stroked his fair beard thoughtfully. 'All this is most interesting. I told Lydgate to liaise with the University Proctors regarding his dead students' remains.
He became abusive and said he did not want you near them because he was not convinced of your competence.
I was rather surprised.'
'Well, I am not,' said Michael. 'Master Lydgate and I have had cause to rub shoulders once or twice recently, and the experience was not a pleasant one for either of us. The man is little more than a trained ape in a scholar's gown.'
'What makes you think he is trained?' asked Bartholomew.
'I heard he bought his way through his disputations when he was a student here,' said Tulyet. 'Is that true?'
'I would imagine so,' replied Michael, not in the least surprised by the rumour. 'I doubt he earned his degree by the application of intellect. Perhaps that is another reason why he did not want the Proctors looking too carefully into his affairs. Anyway, we certainly did not part on the most amicable of terms — he probably overheard us discussing the burning of the tithe barn yesterday, and resents his ancient crime being resurrected after so long.'
'What title barn fire?' asked Tulyet curiously. 'No fires have been reported to me.'
'It happened a long time ago,' said Bartholomew, fixing Michael with a reproving look for his indiscretion.
'Not the one at Trumpington twenty-five years ago?' persisted Tulyet, not so easily dissuaded. 'I remember that! It was the talk of the town for weeks! An itinerant musician is said to have started it, but he escaped before he could be brought to justice. My father was Sheriff then.
Are you saying that Lydgate was involved? Was it Lydgate who let the culprit go?'
'No, Matt did that,' said Michael, laughing. 'Lydgate's role in the fire was a little more direct.'
'It was all a long time ago,' repeated Bartholomew, reluctant to discuss the matter with the 'embodiment of secular law'. He began to wish he had never broken his silence in the first place, and certainly would not have done had he known that the investigation into Kenzie's death would bring him so close to Lydgate and his Godwinsson students.
'Lydgate was the arsonist!' exclaimed Tulyet, laughing.
'Do not worry, Matt. I will keep this matter to myself, tempting though it would be to mention the affair at a meeting of the town council. But even the prospect of Lydgate mortified is not cause enough to risk another riot.
If town and gown will fight over some ancient skeleton, they will certainly come to blows if the Sheriff accuses a University principal of arson!'
'That is true,' said Michael. 'But anyway, you can see why Master Lydgate is not exactly enamoured of the Senior Proctor at the moment. I can understand why he would rather keep me at a distance.'
'I also heard,' said Tulyet, reluctantly forcing his mind back
to the present, 'that Mistress Lydgate's chamber was ransacked. A sergeant, who chased a Godwinsson student into the hostel after he was seen looting, told me her room was chaotic.'
'Really?' said Michael. 'I wonder why.'
'Hasty packing, I should think,' said Bartholomew. 'She probably did not know how long she had before her husband returned and gathered everything she could as quickly as possible.'
At that moment, Gray and Deynman knocked and entered, looking at Michael and Tulyet with such expressions of abject guilt that Bartholomew wondered uneasily what misdemeanours they had committed that so plagued their consciences.
'Who was at Maud's with you last night?' he asked.
'Master Bigod will vouch for us both,' began Gray hotly.
'And so will all the other students. I swear to you, we did not leave there, even for the merest instant!'
Bartholomew was amused at Gray's indignation — the student regularly lied or stretched the truth to get what he wanted, and there was an element of outrage in Gray that he was not believed when he was actually being honest.
'There is no reason to doubt you,' he said to mollify him.
'It is not your doings that concern us now, but someone else's. Can you remember who was there?'
Deynman relaxed immediately and began to answer, although Gray remained wary: Deynman's world was one of black and white, while Gray was a natural sceptic.
'All the Maud's students were there,' Deynman began.
'They all like my brother Jack and wanted to celebrate his birthday.'
Bartholomew did not doubt it, especially since the wealthy Deynmans were known to be generous and would have provided fine and plentiful refreshments for Jack's birthday party.
'How many?' asked Bartholomew.
'There are eight students including Jack,' said Deynman, screwing up his face in the unaccustomed labour of serious thought. 'We were all in the hall. Then there were the masters. There was one who does logic, another who teaches rhetoric, and the Principal, Master Bigod, who takes philosophy for advanced students.'
Bartholomew saw Michael smile at the notion that any of the students of Maud's were advanced and imagined that Master Bigod probably had a very light teaching load.
'Were there others?' asked Bartholomew. 'From different hostels or colleges?'
'No,' said Deynman with certainty. 'Jack invited me because I am his brother, and I invited Sam. There were no others.'
'During the time you were there, did anyone else visit?
Did any master or student leave to see about the noise from the rioting?'
Deynman shook his head. 'We all ran to the window when we heard that workshop falling, but Master Bigod ordered the shutters closed and the doors barred immediately.'
He grimaced. 'I started to object because it was hot in the hall and the open windows provided a cooling breeze. He told me I could leave if I did not like it.'
'But you told me he insisted you stayed once the riot had started,' said Bartholomew, looking hard at Gray. Gray shot his friend a weary look, and Deynman, suddenly realising that he had been caught out in an earlier lie, flushed red and became tongue-tied.
'What were you doing that made leaving so undesirable?'
Bartholomew persisted. He eyed the full purse that dangled from Gray's belt. 'Cheating at dice?'
Gray gave Deynman an even harder glare and Bartholomew knew he had hit upon the truth. It was not the first time Gray had conned money from the unsuspecting with his loaded dice.
'We are getting away from the point,' said Tulyet impatiently. 'Did anyone else visit Maud's at any point last night, for however brief a time?'
Gray and Deynman looked at each other. Deynman's brows drew together as he tried to recall, while Gray appeared thoughtful.
'We were merry by dusk,' he said, 'but some time later, there was a knock on the door. I remember because Master Bigod was called out and he missed the end of one of my stories. It was a woman who came. She glanced into the hall, saw us all sitting round the table and withdrew hastily. She spoke for a few moments to Bigod before leaving. I heard the front door open and close again.'
'What was this woman like?' asked Tulyet. It was clearly not Lydgate.
'Small and dumpy with a starched white wimple that made her look unattractive,' said Gray unchivalrously.
'About fifty years old? With expensive, but ill-hanging clothes?' asked Michael, exchanging a glance with Bartholomew.
Gray nodded. 'Exactly! You must know her. That is all I can tell you, I am sorry. There were no other interruptions to our evening after she had gone. And there were no others in the hall with us. Master Bigod stayed up all night. I think he was afraid his students might disobey his orders and go out if he went to bed.'
Bartholomew dismissed them, and Gray cast a furtive glance at Michael before he left. Michael dutifully studied the ceiling in an unspoken message that the illegal dicing would be overlooked this time. Deynman beamed at him before following Gray out.
'So,' said Michael when the door had been closed and the students' footsteps had faded away. 'The visitor was Mistress Lydgate, but Thomas Lydgate was not there.'
'This is all most odd,' said Tulyet, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with a slender forefinger. 'Lydgate claims Bigod as an alibi but does not set foot in Maud's that night. Meanwhile, his wife, who has reached the end of her tether and is running away, does visit Bigod.'
'It will be no good us questioning Bigod,' said Michael, taking a careful sip of his wine. 'He will refuse to answer you, Dick, on the grounds that he does not come under the jurisdiction of secular law. And he certainly will not speak to me after Heppel's escapade with the cell keys. I suppose you could try Lydgate again — tell him you have witnesses prepared to swear he was not at Maud's as he claims, and see what he says.'
Tulyet sighed. 'I could. But I am not inclined to do so.
I have more than enough to do without wasting my time on lying scholars. I need to concentrate on preventing another of these disturbances.'
'That should certainly be your first priority,' agreed Michael. 'And mine, too. Good luck to Cecily for fleeing that ignoramus of a husband. They are both better off without each other. But I am more concerned with Kenzie's killer at the moment. It is not pleasant to think of him free and laughing at us while the town is ripped to pieces about our ears by feeble-witted people filled with self-righteous rage.'
Tulyet picked up his goblet but put it down again with a shudder before he drank. He stood, peering out at the night through the open window shutters. 'I must be away,' he said. 'It is vital the patrols are seen tonight if we are to prevent more mischief. It has been most interesting chatting to you both. As I said earlier, the University and the town should talk more often. I am certain my crime rates would drop if we did.'
'Do you have any information at all about the woman who was raped?' asked Bartholomew as he walked with the Sheriff across the yard to the gate.
Tulyet shrugged. 'Very little. She was called Joanna, and she was a prostitute. Perhaps she was out plying her trade and got more than she bargained for.'
'That is an outrageous thing to say!' exclaimed Bartholomew.
'Because she is a prostitute does not give someone the right to rape her!'
Tulyet eyed Bartholomew in the darkness. 'I forgot,' he said. 'You have championed the town prostitutes on other occasions. Well, I am in sympathy with your point, Matt, but I need to concentrate on preventing further riots. I cannot spare the men to look into this Joanna's death.
One of my archers says he saw Joanna in the company of some French scholars after the riot erupted. Tell Brother Michael it is a University matter and persuade him to investigate.'
He took the reins of his horse from the waiting porter and watched Bartholomew unbar the gate so that he could leave. As he led his horse out of the yard, he caught Bartholomew's arm. 'But if you do look into this death be tactful, Matt. It would be unfortunate if incautious inquiries sparked off another rio
t.'
Making certain that the gate was firmly closed and barred, Bartholomew strolled back across the courtyard to intercept Michael, who was heading towards the kitchens for something to eat before he, too, went to patrol the streets with his beadles. Bartholomew told the monk about Joanna but met with little enthusiasm.
'Dick Tulyet is right, Matt. There were many grievous crimes committed last night — nine dead and countless injured — which is why we cannot allow it to happen again.
It is a terrible thing that happened to this whore, but it is done, and there is nothing we can do about it now.'
'We can avenge her death,' Bartholomew replied, disgusted that Michael should take such a view. 'We can find out who misused her and punish them for it.'
'But we have no idea who it may have been,' said Michael with a patent lack of interest.
'Tulyet said she was last seen with French scholars.
French scholars tried to make away with Eleanor Tyler last night. Perhaps they had already committed one such crime.'
'Well, if so, then they are punished already,' said Michael dismissively, 'for you told me yourself that one already lies dead in the Castle, stabbed by Mistress Tyler.
And you are being unfair. There are a lot of French scholars in the University; there is no reason to assume the Godwinsson trio are to blame.'
Bartholomew ran a hand through his hair and considered.
'There are not that many French students here.
You could supply me with a list, since the University keeps records of such things. Then I could make some inquiries.'
'I will do no such thing,' said Michael firmly. 'First, it might be dangerous. Second, you are not a proctor and have no authority to investigate such matters. And third, even enquiring might strike the spark that will ignite another riot. No, Matt. I will not let you do it.'
'Then I will make inquiries without your help,' said Bartholomew coldly, turning on his heel and stalking back towards his room.
Michael hurried after him and grabbed his arm. 'What is the matter with you?' he asked, perplexed. 'I know you dislike violence, so why are you so intent on subverting the attempts of the Sheriff and the University to prevent more of it?'
A Bone of Contention Page 13
