A Killer in Winter

‘I was not abusive,’ said Godric quickly. ‘I just pointed out that clerics are under your authority, not his. I will pay you the four pennies he demanded. But we will not pay him.’

‘That will not be necessary,’ announced Michael to more cheers. He lowered his voice so the townsmen would not hear. ‘But this tavern is no place for scholars, lad. Go home, and do not let me find you here again.’ He caught Godric’s arm as he made to leave. ‘I do not suppose you have heard from your principal?’

Godric gave a rueful smile. ‘Do you think we would be here if he was back? Anyway, I have already promised we will send you word if he returns. Ailred needs more help than we can give him, so you can rely on us to contact you.’

‘But we do not believe him to be guilty,’ added one of the students. ‘We talked about it all last night. He may have made mistakes with this charity – Dympna – but we do not think he killed Norbert.’

‘He is a desperate man,’ said Bartholomew gently. ‘And desperate men are often driven to do things they would never normally contemplate.’

‘He may have been desperate, but he was not wicked,’ insisted Godric loyally. ‘I went through the hostel’s finances last night, and do you know why we have been shivering in front of mean fires and eating bad fish all week? It is because Ailred gathered together all the funds he could find, and bought food and firewood to make Dunstan’s last few days comfortable.’

‘That was from Dympna,’ said Michael. ‘Robin of Grantchester organised its delivery, as he did with its other loans and gifts.’

Godric shook his head vehemently. ‘I have the receipts for every item of food and every scrap of fuel that Dunstan received. They match outgoing sums from our own accounts – along with money Ailred had from selling a silver locket that belonged to a brother called John.’

Fiscurtune’s locket, thought Bartholomew immediately. Since it was evident Ailred had loved his brother, selling something that had belonged to him would not have been easy.

‘You said you did not know whether Ailred had any male kin,’ he said to Godric.

‘I did not,’ replied Godric. He gestured to one of his colleagues. ‘But he mentioned a brother called John to Nathan here. It was Nathan who sold the locket on Ailred’s behalf the day Athelbald died.’

‘He was fond of that trinket,’ added Nathan. ‘But he parted with it to help Dunstan. He is not a wicked man.’

Michael released Godric’s arm, and watched the Franciscans troop out of the tavern, accepting the congratulations of delighted townsfolk as they went. They were a serious, sober group, and Bartholomew wondered why they did not prefer the quieter atmosphere of a tavern like the Brazen George or the Swan. He supposed it was because the King’s Head was outside the town gates, so they were less likely to be caught there by other members of their Order.

Michael strolled nonchalantly towards Harysone, and Bartholomew was amused to see the pardoner’s companions hastily slip away, reluctant to be with the man while he had yet another brush with town officials. The monk plumped himself down in a recently vacated chair and beamed alarmingly. Bartholomew sat next to him, while Isnard and the others went back to their ale.

‘You owe Dympna a lot of money,’ said Michael without preamble. ‘When can you pay?’

‘Never mind that,’ said Harysone indignantly. ‘I was stabbed in the back by the Franciscan friars you just spoke to. Why did you not arrest them?’

‘There is no evidence those particular clerics harmed you,’ said Michael. ‘And I am far more interested in the fact that you owe Dympna three pounds. I repeat: when can you pay?’

‘It was two pounds, thirteen shillings and fourpence,’ said Harysone immediately. He did not seem surprised by Michael’s demand, and Bartholomew wondered whether he had been anticipating it. ‘I will pay you next week, since I will have sold enough books by then. However, I did not expect a request for repayment quite so soon. Loans are usually made for longer periods.’

‘Your particular transaction was illegal,’ said Michael. ‘Father Ailred is ill, and made some poor decisions. When exactly did he make this loan to you?’

‘He gave me the money last Wednesday evening,’ replied Harysone. ‘I was surprised by the speed at which he obliged me. It is the only good thing I have to say about your town: your moneylenders make rapid decisions. The interest was a little high, but I suppose haste costs.’

‘Interest?’ asked Michael. ‘Dympna does not charge interest. That is its appeal.’

‘Well, it charged me,’ said Harysone firmly. ‘I borrowed two pounds, but agreed to pay two pounds, thirteen shillings and fourpence by the end of next month. By loaning me six marks, Ailred was going to gain another two.’