A Killer in Winter

‘Turke would not give us the details, but I was under the impression that Norbert overheard him making some insalubrious business arrangement and threatened to blackmail him. So, Turke stabbed Norbert, then hit him with a rock. Poor Norbert did not deserve to die in such a manner, even though he was dissolute and selfish. Now do you see why I so badly wanted you to catch Norbert’s killer? The culprit was the one man in the world whom I truly despised.’

‘Frith had no hand in Norbert’s death?’

‘None.’

‘But it was Frith who pushed me and grabbed the salted fish?’

Ailred sighed. ‘I think so. I cannot prove it, but I think my nephew met Turke here, in the middle of the night, and begged him to continue the payments for my hostel. I think he probably witnessed the murder, which is why he denied any knowledge of it to you. He does not want to be charged as an accessory to such a crime.’

‘Did you really think you would get away with it?’ Bartholomew felt the ice stabilise and began to move forward once more. ‘Murdering Turke and Gosslinge?’

‘No one killed Gosslinge. He managed to acquire one of the notes we sent to Norbert. Norbert was careless, so I imagine he threw the message in the street, where Gosslinge picked it up. Gosslinge must have asked Turke to it read it to him, then decided to hide in St Michael’s Church to see what would happen. Those rotten albs are an excellent place to lurk unseen.’

‘How do you know all this? Were you there?’

Ailred nodded feebly. ‘Standing behind a pillar, so Norbert would not see me. But Frith and I discovered Gosslinge’s presence long before Norbert arrived. Gosslinge was a noisy breather and we heard him. Frith demanded the note back. Gosslinge claimed this was not the first time he had watched, and said he had already told Turke about my muddle with Dympna. He maintained it was one of the reasons why Turke had decided not to pay me any more – because he knew something bad about me, just as I knew about the vile death of Isabella.’

‘So, Gosslinge was spying for Turke,’ mused Bartholomew. He recalled Harysone mentioning that Gosslinge had smelled of mould. The pardoner had been right: the servant had spent more than one evening hiding among the decaying robes in order to watch clandestine meetings in St Michael’s.

‘Turke used Gosslinge for underhand acts,’ said Ailred. ‘It was why Gosslinge held such a unique position in his household. Turke did not like the man, but he was useful.’

‘Did Turke relieve him of his thumb?’

Ailred was surprised. ‘I understood he lost it to the King’s justices for stealing. But to go back to the church, Frith demanded the note from Gosslinge. Gosslinge looked him in the eye and ate it. Then he choked. We did our best, and Frith even broke one of the man’s teeth trying to pull the thing from his throat, but it was all to no avail. It was a horrible thing to watch.’ He closed his eyes.

Ailred’s account tallied with Frith’s, and explained why Gosslinge’s mouth was damaged. Gosslinge’s fingernail must have been torn in his death throes. Although bruised lips and broken teeth were usually indications that someone had been deliberately suffocated, in this case they had been the result of clumsy attempts to save him. Bartholomew was inclined to accept that Frith had been telling the truth after all – about this particular incident, at least. No one had killed Gosslinge.

‘What else did Frith tell you?’ Bartholomew could see that Ailred was beginning to lose consciousness, and sensed it would not be long before he relinquished his hold on the ice. And then there would be nothing anyone could do to save him. The friar had to be kept alert. ‘Come on, Father! Speak to me!’

‘Gosslinge was wearing his livery, but Frith said it was a pity to waste good clothes when such items are expensive. He took them, then replaced Gosslinge among the albs in exactly the same way in which we had found him. He hoped you would see what had really happened – that Gosslinge had choked on something he was trying to keep for himself, and that he had been spying. But you misunderstood and misdiagnosed everything.’

‘The change of clothes did not help,’ said Bartholomew defensively, hurling the rope. He did not want to hear again how he had failed everyone with his careless examination of Gosslinge. Ailred reached for the twine, but it was still too short. The ice under Bartholomew bowed more than ever, and he saw part of it disappear under the black water in front of him.

‘Go back,’ ordered Ailred. ‘I do not want to be rescued.’

‘You might have mentioned that before I started,’ said Bartholomew, throwing the rope again. This time, it reached the hole where Ailred floated. The friar did not touch it.