A Vein of Deceit (46 page)

‘More lies,’ said Michael in distaste. ‘Deynman took the pennyroyal – he has admitted it.’

‘But he also said it did not shine the metal on his books as it should have done,’ argued Tesdale. ‘And that was because Wynewyk
had replaced it with water. Where do you think I got the idea? Wynewyk did not say why he wanted it, but he stole most of
the bottle.’

‘No wonder you have nightmares,’ said Michael in distaste. ‘Your lying conscience plagues you.’

‘It is not his conscience that gives him bad dreams,’ said Bartholomew. ‘It is the poppy juice he has been swallowing. It
makes him lethargic, too, which is why we all think he is lazy. I should have known there was something wrong about a young
man who was quite so sluggish.’

‘Poppy juice can induce night-terrors?’ asked Tesdale, uneasily. ‘I did not know that. Is it—’

‘Enough of this,’ interrupted Michael, taking a firmer grip on the dagger. ‘The Blood Relic debate will be starting soon and
I have more important things to do than listen to your nasty tales. Start walking. We are going to the proctors’ prison.’

‘We are not,’ said Tesdale, backing away. ‘I know too much – especially about King’s Hall. If you arrest me, I will reveal
all.’

‘No,’ cried Paxtone. ‘You cannot repay our kindness to you with—’

‘Ask the Warden why he is so eager to own Elyan Manor,’ crowed Tesdale, seeing the King’s Hall physician’s distress. ‘And
question him about
his
relationship with Osa Gosse.’

‘I really do not care,’ said Michael coldly. ‘At the moment, I am only interested in locking you away, you poisonous little
rat.’

‘Then I will tell everyone about Wynewyk’s crimes,’ declared Tesdale, eyes flashing with malice. ‘And Michaelhouse will be
disgraced. But if you let me go, I will start a practice in some distant city and we need never see each other again.’

‘We will take our chances,’ said Michael. ‘Come.’

Tesdale hesitated, then sagged in defeat. Michael lowered the dagger, but before Bartholomew could yell a warning, Tesdale
had shoved past the monk and dived towards the window.

‘Go to Hell!’ the student yelled, as he clambered on to the sill. He stood and reached up, intending to scramble across the
roof and make his escape. He moved so confidently that Bartholomew was sure he had done it before. Or was it poppy juice that
gave him a sense of wild recklessness?

Unfortunately for Tesdale, he had reckoned without the constant rain of the past few weeks. The tiles were slick, and he immediately
lost his balance. Bartholomew darted forward and managed to grab a corner of his tabard, arresting the young man’s fall with
such a violent jolt that it almost pulled him out, too. Tesdale hung three floors up, with only Bartholomew’s fingers between
him and oblivion. Then the material began to slide out of the physician’s hand.

‘Help me!’ Tesdale screamed, struggling frantically as he tried to gain purchase on the smooth stones of the wall. Bartholomew
fought to retain his grip, feeling the muscles in his arm burn from the effort.

‘Do not squirm,’ ordered Michael urgently, leaning out of the window as far as he could, and straining to reach the terrified
student. ‘I am almost—’

But more of the cloth tore through Bartholomew’s fingers. He tried to lift the dead weight, so Michael could catch Tesdale’s
desperately flailing hand, but it was a manoeuvre beyond his strength. The last fragment of tabard ripped free, and Tesdale
dropped with an ear-splitting scream.

‘Is he dead?’ asked Michael, deliberately not looking at the shattered figure on the ground below.

Bartholomew could only nod.

Michael wasted no time in summoning some of his beadles to remove the bodies from King’s Hall. Junior Proctor Cleydon was
with them, and was instructed to return to St Mary the Great and discreetly invite Powys to walk outside for some air. The
monk needed to talk to the King’s Hall Warden urgently, but did not want to do it in such a way that several hundred scholars
would wonder what was going on. Fortunately, the debate had started, so he hoped attention would be on the disputants, not
on what was happening in the audience; the last thing he needed was a contingent of outraged King’s Hall students rallying
to their Warden’s side.

‘I was looking forward to today,’ he said bitterly. ‘I was going to dazzle everyone with my incisive analyses, to remind men
of influence that I would make a good bishop. Instead, I am forced to explore Tesdale’s sordid accusations against King’s
Hall. And when that is done, I am obliged to help Langelee resolve the dispute surrounding Elyan Manor. Sometimes I hate being
a proctor!’

‘You need to arrest Gosse and Idoma, too,’ added Bartholomew, who felt missing an academic discussion was the least of their
worries. ‘They are killers, and we
must
thwart whatever they are planning to do during the debate.’

‘Then we had better not waste any more time,’ said Michael, beginning to stride to where Paxtone, white-faced
and tearful, was sitting on a bench in King’s Hall’s well-appointed yard.

Bartholomew grabbed the monk’s arm and held him back. ‘He was protecting his College, Brother. Do not tell me
you
have never recruited spies to combat a threat to your home?’

‘You are too willing to see the good in people,’ said Michael, freeing himself impatiently. ‘I saw Paxtone myself, laughing
and joking with Wynewyk, pretending to be his friend. At best he is duplicitous, and at worst … It does not bear thinking
about.’

‘Paxtone did not harm Wynewyk, though,’ Bartholomew pointed out reasonably. ‘Tesdale confessed to that – along with Wynewyk’s
own efforts to kill himself.’

‘Then what about Agatha’s claim – that Paxtone is in league with Gosse?’ demanded Michael. ‘Or Tesdale’s similar allegation
against Powys? And do not forget the diamonds.’

‘Diamonds?’ Bartholomew was not sure how they fitted into anything.

Michael made an exasperated face. ‘Wynewyk carried an uncut gem in his purse, and had others hidden under the floorboards
in his room – and Clippesby found letters in which he had offered them to wealthy nobles. Meanwhile, what does Paxtone have
in his cupboard, that he snatched away from you when you happened across them? Uncut diamonds! Do not tell me that is coincidence.’

‘No,’ agreed Bartholomew cautiously. ‘But I still cannot see the significance.’

‘Has it occurred to you that Paxtone may not have been spying on us to protect King’s Hall, but because Wynewyk had something
King’s Hall wanted? He made Wynewyk the villain, but who is to say he is telling the truth?’

Bartholomew was confused. ‘But Tesdale told us that
Wynewyk and Paxtone discussed and wrote about stones together – he did not mention any antagonism between them. They were
more likely to have been working jointly to—’

‘No. King’s Hall is not the sort of foundation to share that sort of thing, and neither, frankly, was Wynewyk. They may have
maintained a veneer of co-operation, but the intentions of each of them would have been to best the other.’

‘Really, Brother,’ said Bartholomew in distaste. ‘Not everyone is base, greedy and corrupt.’

‘I think you will find they are,’ countered Michael. ‘Especially where lots of money is concerned. But let us take a moment
and review what we know of these diamonds.’

‘They came from Neubold,’ obliged Bartholomew. ‘Yolande de Blaston told me Neubold gave Paxtone these stones because they
can help women in childbirth. She stole one from him.’

‘Paxtone lied to her.’ Michael took up the tale. ‘He fabricated a tale, so a prostitute would not spread the story that King’s
Hall owns a lot of uncut diamonds. I imagine Wynewyk’s stones came from Neubold, too. But why would a Dominican priest be
dispensing such things?’

‘He dispensed them to men who were going to invest in Elyan’s coal seam,’ said Bartholomew.

Michael gaped at the implications. ‘You think Elyan’s colliery is actually a diamond mine?’

‘Of course not, but that is not the point – which is what
other people
believe. Precious stones discovered on Elyan land explain a lot of things. For example why Wynewyk made his secret journey
to Suffolk in the summer. Why King’s Hall, d’Audley and Luneday are so eager to inherit Elyan Manor. And why Elyan pays vigilant
guards.’

Michael was thoughtful. ‘It also explains why Wynewyk
sent Kelyng to watch the place: he wanted to know if the tale was true.’

Bartholomew rubbed a hand through his hair, as various clues snapped together in his mind. ‘Margery said the mine held a secret.
This must be what she meant. But Elyan said his mine is not producing what was expected. We thought he referred to coal, but
he must have meant diamonds.’

‘Which were numerous to begin with – hence the free samples to investors – but which quickly petered out,’ finished Michael.
‘Wynewyk probably intended to repay Michaelhouse without us being any the wiser, and keep the fabulous profits for himself
– profits earned by selling these uncut diamonds to wealthy nobles.’

‘No,’ said Bartholomew stubbornly. ‘He would have shared them with Michaelhouse.’

Michael ignored him. ‘But when the promised returns failed to materialise, he realised he had “borrowed” too much. We began
to feel the pinch, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his colleagues started to wonder why. He began to grow
desperate—’

‘No,’ insisted Bartholomew. ‘He is not a thief.’

‘He would not have tried to kill Langelee if his intentions had been honest, nor would he have kept the whole thing secret
– he would have solicited our help. But we do not have time for protracted deliberations here. I cannot escape the feeling
that something terrible is about to happen, and while it is good to have answers to some of our questions, too many still
remain.’

‘Such as who killed Joan, why she came to Cambridge—’

‘Such as what King’s Hall is doing with Gosse,’ corrected Michael. ‘That is far more pressing.’

‘Here is Powys,’ said Bartholomew, as the Warden of King’s Hall entered the College at a run. The Junior
Proctor was behind him. ‘You can demand answers from him, as well as Paxtone.’

‘I dare not linger,’ gasped Cleydon, pulling Michael to one side. ‘Thelnetham has just made a highly inflammatory declaration,
and the Franciscans are howling heresy. One of us needs to be there to keep the peace, or there will be bloodshed for certain.’

‘Do you need more beadles?’ asked Michael. ‘If so, we can use the ones I sent to arrest Gosse and Idoma. Laying hold of felons
is not nearly as urgent as preventing a riot.’

‘I have already redeployed them,’ replied Cleydon, his face taut with worry. ‘It seemed reckless to squander resources on
a manhunt when we are on the brink of serious trouble.’

‘Send word to Constable Muschett,’ ordered Michael. ‘His soldiers can deal with Gosse.’

‘I
have
told him, Brother. But he has locked himself in the castle and informs me that he does not intend to come out today. This
would not be happening if Sheriff Tulyet were here.’

‘Gosse and Idoma are planning something terrible,’ said Bartholomew, horrified to learn they were still free. ‘We must stop
it – whatever it is.’

Michael turned to Cleydon. ‘I will make enquiries about Gosse’s plans while you return to the church. Keep everyone calm and
prevent a riot at all costs.’

It was a tall order, and Cleydon did not look happy as he hurried away.

Bartholomew’s mind was spinning as he and Michael walked towards Paxtone. The King’s Hall physician was in urgent conference
with his Warden, but they stopped speaking abruptly when the Michaelhouse men came within earshot.

‘You owe us an explanation,’ said Michael coldly.

‘There is nothing more to say,’ replied Paxtone, exchanging a brief and rather furtive glance with his colleague. ‘I encouraged
Matthew to accept Risleye as a student because we needed to know what Wynewyk was doing. And you heard Tesdale: Wynewyk was
in such deep water that he tried to kill himself, so our qualms were certainly justified.’

‘I was not referring to that,’ said Michael icily, ‘although sending spies to other foundations is unsavoury, and is a matter
that will be aired at greater length later. I refer to the rumours that say you have been doing business with Gosse – that
he expects to share a considerable fortune with you.’

‘With us?’ asked Paxtone, startled, while the Warden gaped at the charge. ‘I cannot imagine—’

‘Do not play games,’ blazed Michael, patience at an end. ‘Men are dead, and there is something rotten going on that involves
your College. You
will
tell me what.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ said Paxtone, alarmed.

‘You can start by explaining why you came back to King’s Hall covered in blood on the night that Carbo was murdered.’ Michael’s
expression was glacial.

‘What is wrong with you today, Brother?’ cried Warden Powys. ‘You cannot come here and start issuing wild accusations! You
already have Shropham in your clutches. Is that not enough? Or do you intend to persist until you have all my Fellows under
lock and key?’

Paxtone had looked confused when Michael mentioned the night of Carbo’s death, but suddenly his expression cleared. ‘You refer
to the occasion when I left Matthew reading in my room, while I went to bleed Constable Muschett?’

Events suddenly made sense to Bartholomew, too. ‘You
were wiping your hands when you came back, and said you were grateful you had worn an apron.’

‘I am not good at phlebotomy,’ said Paxtone sheepishly. ‘And it is not unusual for veins to spurt at me. I went to the kitchens
to wash and Tesdale was there. I was embarrassed by my ineptitude, and paid him not to say anything – I suppose he put his
own inimical twist on the incident. I do my best with these nasty techniques, but I do not own your skill with them, Matthew.’

Bartholomew ignored the barb and saw that Paxtone might well be telling the truth: Muschett’s summons had been unexpected,
and Paxtone
was
notoriously bad at anything that involved cautery.

‘Then what about the diamonds?’ demanded Michael.

‘Diamonds?’ echoed Paxtone, jaw dropping. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’

‘The bag of stones I found in your cupboard,’ explained Bartholomew. ‘They are uncut gems.’

Paxtone continued to gape. ‘They are rocks to help a woman through childbirth. Even you, despite your unorthodoxy, must know
certain minerals have the power to alleviate specific conditions.’

Bartholomew was uncertain what to think – Paxtone was convincing – but Michael was less credulous. ‘Tesdale said you and Wynewyk
worked together on a project involving rocks,’ the monk said accusingly. ‘And he also said you took care to keep it away from
him.’

‘Of course Paxtone did not let Tesdale know his business,’ snapped the Warden, before Paxtone could answer for himself. ‘We
were wary of the lad – doubting the wisdom of hiring him – so naturally we made sure he saw nothing of our affairs.’

‘That does not tell us what you were doing with Wynewyk,’ said Bartholomew.

Paxtone sighed. ‘We were discussing Elyan Manor, if you must know. Wynewyk had purchased a share in the mine, and was concerned
about who would eventually inherit. He supported our claim, because he knew we would treat fairly with him. We did not discuss
rocks
– we discussed
coal
.’

‘We dealt honestly with him, but our decency was not reciprocated,’ added the Warden bitterly. ‘I never trusted him, although
we maintained a veneer of friendship. And if you say I malign him, then you are fools. I could not believe it when Langelee
gave him free rein with the Michaelhouse accounts, and if you do not find inconsistencies in them, I will dance naked in St
Mary the Great.’

‘Something malevolent is at work here,’ said Michael, declining to discuss a colleague, even a treacherous one, with members
of a rival foundation. ‘It has already resulted in the deaths of Joan, Carbo, Neubold, Margery and her paramour d’Audley,
Wynewyk and Kelyng, and attempts have been made on my life and Matt’s. It is time to bring an end to it. You
must
help me.’

‘But we have no idea what you are talking about!’ cried Paxtone. ‘Who is Margery?’

‘Neubold is dead?’ cried the Warden. ‘How?’

‘It would take too long to explain,’ snapped Michael. ‘So, for the last time, what is going on?’

‘Nothing is going on,’ declared Powys angrily. ‘At least, nothing involving King’s Hall. You say Gosse claims an association
with us, but he is lying. Your accusations are outrageous – and offensive to a foundation that enjoys the patronage of the
King.’

Bartholomew recalled what Michael had said about Powys – that he was unlikely to do anything without royal approval. Did His
Majesty know that precious stones might be being unearthed in a quiet corner of his realm, and
had he charged the Warden of his favourite College to ensure he did not lose out? Bartholomew’s stomach churned at the implications
of the remark.

Michael also seemed to accept that the interrogation was going no further now such a powerful player had been introduced.
‘We should all go to Michaelhouse,’ he said coldly. ‘Langelee will be making his decision about Elyan Manor soon, and someone
needs to represent King’s Hall if you think you have a right to the place.’

‘We do have a right,’ asserted Powys, equally icy. ‘Far more so than the other claimants.’

He gestured that Michael was to leave his domain, and with no alternative but to do as he was bid, the monk complied. Bartholomew
followed, and the two King’s Hall men brought up the rear.