A Killer in Winter

‘Not according to Quenhyth. He recalls them just as they are – the same people and the same clothes.’

‘So, what are you saying? That Philippa has a sinister motive for not telling you she hired a troupe of vagrants? Perhaps she wants to woo you – as Matilde believes – and thinks admitting to an association with the Chepe Waits will put you off. Or perhaps she guessed – correctly, I imagine – that you would not be interested in the details of her household affairs. Talking about how to hire vagrants is not recommended as a topic to impress potential suitors with.’

‘I am not a potential suitor,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘And even if she regards me as fair game now – which I am sure she does not, given that she decided against me when I was younger, fitter and less grey – she certainly did not do so while her husband ate his dinner next to her.’

Michael raised his eyebrows, his expression mischievous. ‘She may have realised Turke ranked a poor second to your charms, and so decided to move him into the next world.’

Bartholomew sighed impatiently. ‘Do not be flippant, Brother! I am uneasy about this link between her and the Waits. There is also the fact that her dead manservant – Gosslinge – was in the King’s Head with Frith. I am sure it is significant.’

‘Do not forget we have been told that Harysone was in the King’s Head with the Waits, too,’ said Michael. ‘So, what shall we do? Shall we arrest Philippa and take her to my prison, where I can question her about the men she hired last summer? Or shall I arrest the Waits, and demand to know why Philippa denied knowing them?’

Bartholomew gave him a rueful smile. ‘You are right, there is nothing to be gained from these speculations. Philippa will be gone as soon as the snow clears, and I will probably never see her again.’

CHAPTER 6

When Bartholomew and Michael reached the King’s Head with the fish it was past noon, and they discovered Harysone had ignored the physician’s advice to rest, and was in the tavern’s main room, holding forth to a group of pardoners. The pardoners wore black cloaks and wide-brimmed hats, and Michael became aware that there was a similarity in their clothes and the ones favoured by Harysone. His eyes narrowed with dislike: Michael detested pardoners, and was as rabid in his loathing of them as William was in his hatred of heretics and Dominicans.

‘So that is why I detected a spirit of evil in the man,’ the monk said, nodding with grim satisfaction when he saw his suspicions had some basis. ‘He is a pardoner. You know how I feel about pardoners.’

‘I do,’ said Bartholomew hastily, hoping that a prompt reply would deliver him from the diatribe he sensed was going to follow. It did not.

‘Pardoners are an evil brood,’ Michael hissed, beginning to work himself into a state of righteous indignation. ‘They travel the country and make their fortunes by preying on the sick, the weak and the gullible. They peddle false relics, and the promises of salvation they offer in their pardons are nothing but lies.’

‘Speaking of false relics. I wonder whether that thing Turke gave Langelee is really a saint’s finger,’ said Bartholomew, attempting to change the subject. He did not think Harysone’s occupation was relevant to the enquiry, especially since he was not practising his trade in the town, but was only selling his books.

‘Not if it originated with a pardoner,’ said Michael, refusing to take the hint. ‘It is probably not even a finger. Did you inspect it?’

‘I did not,’ said Bartholomew vehemently. ‘I do not interfere with potentially sacred objects to satisfy my idle curiosity. It is not unknown for men to be struck down for mistreating holy relics.’

‘Their pardons are the most wicked thing of all,’ said Michael. ‘They spend their evenings writing them on old pieces of parchment, to make them appear ancient, and then they sell them to the desperate for high prices. The last pardoner I had the pleasure to drive from my town had a box that contained pardons for every sin from gluttony to lust.’

‘Did you buy any?’

Michael ignored him. ‘They allow criminals to salve their consciences by purchasing pardons, instead of giving themselves up to the law. And, of course, they encourage vice.’

‘How do they do that?’ asked Bartholomew, seeing Michael was in full stride and would not be stopped until he had had his say. For a man normally so sanguine, it was remarkable how the mere mention of pardoners could reduce the monk to paroxysms of bigotry.