A Killer in Winter

‘It was not,’ said Tulyet, shooting Ailred a cool glance of reproach. ‘I have just learned that Norbert has not been seen since Tuesday – the day before yesterday. I was not even aware that he was missing.’

‘Neither were we,’ objected Ailred miserably. ‘He often left and did not return for days. You know that. I used to report his absences, but you seemed as tired of hearing about them as I was of telling, and I thought we had reached a tacit agreement not to bother each other with his transgressions.’

‘I suppose we did,’ said Tulyet with a sigh. ‘But it is unfortunate he was not missed sooner. Then he might have been saved.’

‘It would have made no difference,’ said Bartholomew, kneeling to inspect the body. ‘Both injuries are fatal ones, and finding him sooner would not have changed the outcome.’

‘Both injuries?’ questioned Michael. ‘I only see a wound to his back.’

Bartholomew parted Norbert’s hair, frozen like old fur, to reveal an indentation in the skull. ‘It looks as if he was stabbed and tried to run away – there is enough blood to suggest he did not die immediately and that he spent his last moments on the move. His assailant delivered the blow to the head when he reached the hostel door, although the knife wound would have killed him anyway.’

Tulyet closed his eyes. ‘Horrible! It seems that whoever did this was determined that poor Norbert should die. But I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky to find the body today.’ He cast a mournful glance at the leaden sky. ‘More snow will fall this afternoon, and who knows when it will melt?’

‘I have never known such weather,’ agreed Ailred, obviously grateful to discuss something other than the awkward subject of the death of a student in his care. ‘I am certain winters were not so hard when I was a boy in the fair city of Lincoln.’

‘Who do you think did this?’ asked Michael of the friar, indicating the corpse with a nod of his head. ‘Norbert made a nuisance of himself with my beadles, and few regarded him as pleasant company – I am sorry, Dick, but it is true – but can you think of anyone who disliked him sufficiently to want him dead?’

Ailred was startled. ‘Why are you asking me? It is obvious that Norbert visited some tavern, and his drunken tongue landed him in trouble with a townsman.’

‘That is not obvious at all,’ said Michael sharply. ‘And I shall be obliged if you keep those kind of thoughts to yourself, Father. We do not want the University rioting because it believes one of its number has been killed by an apprentice – especially now.’

‘Why especially now?’ asked Ailred, puzzled.

Michael made no secret of his exasperation. ‘Because it is only three days before Christmas, when students traditionally elect a Lord of Misrule to lead the festivities for the Twelve Days. Some of these might just as well be called “Lords of Incitement to Riot”, since they urge their fellow students to engage in all sorts of michief against the town. I do not want to give them an excuse to justify violent behaviour.’

Ailred was disdainful. ‘I had forgotten that unseemly custom. We do not indulge in pagan traditions at Ovyng; we are friars!’

Michael grimaced, knowing perfectly well that clerics were just as likely to misbehave as secular students, but he declined to argue. ‘Regardless, keep your accusations to yourself until we understand what really happened. For all we know, one of his classmates may be the killer.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Ailred, appalled.

‘My suggestion has as much evidence to support it as the solution you proposed,’ said Michael crisply. ‘So, I suggest we all refrain from jumping to conclusions before we have the facts. What can you tell me about Norbert?’

Ailred cleared his throat and glanced at Tulyet, clearly unhappy with the whole situation.

‘It is all right, Father,’ said Tulyet wearily. ‘Norbert’s failings were no secret, and we all know what kind of man he was. However, giving him virtues he never possessed will help no one, so you may be honest.’

‘If you insist,’ said Ailred reluctantly. He turned to Michael and spread his large hands, as though in apology. ‘Norbert mocked our Order. He did not enjoy lessons, and he disrupted any he attended. He was lazy, disrespectful and selfish, and I do not think any of my students will claim him as a friend.’

‘Then why was he tolerated here?’ asked Bartholomew, who imagined that most masters would dismiss a student who was so badly behaved.

Ailred hesitated again.

‘Money,’ supplied Tulyet dryly. ‘My father paid handsomely to have Norbert tutored here, and Ovyng is not a wealthy institution.’ He turned to Michael. ‘I want Norbert’s killer caught, Brother. Since he was a student, his death is a University matter, and must be investigated by proctors rather than the Sheriff.’ Bartholomew was certain he heard Tulyet add ‘thank God’ in an undertone. Tulyet was obviously as unimpressed by his replacement as was the rest of the town.