The Hand of Justice

‘Obviously, or you would have told him to stop,’ said Wynewyk, who evidently thought the physician should have been ready to confront Thorpe, even though he had failed to do so himself. He turned to Michael. ‘How is your investigation, Brother?’

Wynewyk had relaxed now that Thorpe had disappeared from sight. He shifted the book under his arm, and Bartholomew watched unhappily, not convinced by his explanations. Something told him that Wynewyk was lying, which unsettled him. He did not want the lawyer to be embroiled in something that would see him dismissed from his Fellowship — or worse.

‘Not well,’ replied Michael. ‘In fact, it is essentially at a standstill.’

‘I dined at Gonville a few nights before Bottisham died,’ said Wynewyk, eager to be helpful now he felt he was off the hook. ‘I am friendly with their lawyers. Bottisham talked about Deschalers and how the grocer wanted an end to their feud. But he was suspicious.’

‘You think Deschalers summoned Bottisham to discuss a pact, and then killed him?’

Wynewyk nodded. ‘That would be my conclusion. Deschalers had wanted to meet Bottisham fairly soon, and this was a few days before they died. It seems to me that Bottisham allowed himself to be convinced that Deschalers meant well, and was murdered for his trust.’

‘Why did you not mention this before?’ asked Michael irritably.

‘I thought Rougham would tell you,’ said Wynewyk defensively. ‘He heard the conversation as well as I did, and it was his colleague who was killed, not mine.’

‘Well, he did not,’ said Michael shortly. ‘And you must have heard that Rougham is not enamoured of Michaelhouse at the moment?’

‘He is not enamoured of Matt, but I have not heard him criticising the rest of us.’

‘So, why did Bottisham and Deschalers meet at the King’s Mill?’ asked Michael, stifling a sigh. ‘Why not at Deschalers’s house, where there are plenty of refreshments to hand, and where he could show his reluctant guest some sumptuous hospitality?’

‘Probably because Bottisham declined to enter the lion’s lair, so they agreed to meet on neutral territory,’ suggested Wynewyk. ‘Would you go to the house of a man who hated you, where he could slide a dagger into your ribs and bury you in his garden with no one the wiser?’

‘But surely Bottisham would consider a deserted mill at midnight equally dangerous,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Your reasoning makes no sense.’

‘It does,’ insisted Wynewyk. ‘Deschaler’s house would be full of his retainers and apprentices — he could hardly be expected to oust them from their beds just because Bottisham was soon to arrive. But the mill was different: Bottisham could have watched it for hours to ensure no one was there but Deschalers. I certainly know which venue I would choose, if I had been Bottisham.’

‘You may be right,’ admitted Bartholomew. ‘We know Deschalers had a key to the mill, and where better for a quiet discussion? Deschalers knew it would be closed for the night, and that they would not be interrupted.’

‘He must have rammed the nail through Bottisham’s palate, taking him by surprise, then engaged the wheel and tossed him in its gears to disguise the injury,’ surmised Michael. ‘But it did not work as well as he had hoped, because the stones did not grind his victim up. Instead, the sudden noise attracted the attention of the miller. And then what?’

‘We found the phial of medicine, remember?’ said Bartholomew. ‘It was in the type of pot used for very strong potions — such as that prescribed for painful conditions like a canker in the bowels. Deschalers took it to dull his senses, then drove a second nail into his own mouth, making sure that he, too, would fall into the moving machinery.’

‘I do not know about this,’ said Wynewyk unhappily. ‘It sounds rather contrived. Why would Deschalers bother to hide his crime when he was going to die anyway? And he must have killed himself very quickly after dropping Bottisham into the wheel, if Bernarde is to be believed.’

‘Quite,’ said Michael grimly. ‘“If Bernarde is to be believed.” We have wondered about that from the start. We shall have to have more words with our friend the miller, and find out whether he helped Deschalers with his suicide and its attempted disguise.’

* * *

While Michael went to see Chancellor Tynkell, to explain his tentative suspicions and conclusions, Bartholomew reflected on the audacity of a man who had dared to sit in the hall of another College and file away the chains that secured its valuable books. He accompanied Wynewyk to the blacksmith’s forge, aware that the lawyer was nervous and ill at ease in his company. When they finished, and the smith had agreed to have the chain repaired by the end of the following day, Wynewyk escaped gratefully, claiming he had private business elsewhere.