Study of Murder, The (Five Star Mystery Series) (21 page)

“Can I help you?” he asked pleasantly enough.

“We are seeking a young student of yours named William of Uist.”

“Oh, yes, the new student. He enrolled last week and seems a promising boy.”

“Was he at lecture this morning?”

Rudolfo frowned slightly. “The hall was dark for that early lecture, at least in the beginning.” He paused and thought, his eyes moving upward as if seeing a mental picture of the hall. “Yes, he was there, sitting next to Brother Eusebius, for he asked a question, toward the end, about the choleric temperament. Why do you seek him?”

“We are friends of his, and he did not meet us as arranged.”

“Yes, I can tell you are from the north,” said Rudolfo, looking at my plaid mantle. “Your friend was at the lecture. Perhaps the lad is at his books and has no wish to go to the taverns today. He seems a studious boy.”

“Indeed,” I murmured, trying to sound as if all was normal. “Who else attends your early lecture? You mentioned Brother Eusebius? From Balliol?”

“Yes, he attends from time to time, although he is more interested in the natural sciences, I believe. It is a small group. Mostly graduate students. Perhaps I should not have let the lad in but his letter of introduction impressed me. I have heard of the Beatons; in fact, I studied with one in Salerno many years ago.”

“Fearchar?”

“Yes, that was his name. And so I let his nephew attend my class. As a favor. And he seems a likely student. But I have not seen the boy since this morning. Try his lodging house.”

Although it was instructive to me to learn how Mariota had obtained admission to Rudolfo’s lectures, that did little to find her now. Since Rudolfo had no more to tell us on the subject, we left him and walked down School Street, then turned onto the High Street.

“If Brother Eusebius was at the lecture, perhaps he saw where William went. He was at Berwyk’s funeral, along with the other masters,” I said, leading the way back up Northgate Street toward the gate and Balliol.

We found Eusebius just leaving the dining room, intent on conversation with Phillip Woode and Delacey. Briefly I wondered if they were discussing who would next move into the old hall, as there seemed to be numerous vacancies. Clarkson and now Berwyk were gone.

Phillip Woode noticed me first. “Muirteach. Is there any news?”

I was momentarily confused. News of what? Had Mariota been found? Then I grasped Phillip’s meaning. So intent had I been on finding Mariota, I’d completely forgotten about Berwyk’s killer.

“They’ve arrested Adam Bookman,” I replied, forcing my racing mind to some discipline. “He’s under suspicion for the murder. But I’ve another question. For you, Brother Eusebius. Do you recall a young student from the north at the early medical lecture you attended this morning?”

Eusebius looked vaguely confused.

“Master Rudolfo’s lecture. He said you were seated next to the lad this morning.”

Eusebius’s face cleared. “Oh, that boy. From the north.”

“Yes, that’s the one. William’s his name. Do you recall where the lad went after the lecture ended?”

Eusebius’s face regained its expression of perplexity. He shook his head. “I don’t recall. I was so enraptured with Master Rudolfo’s explanation of the phlegmatic humors, I fear I noticed little else on my way back. Why do you seek the lad?”

“He’s a friend of Donald’s,” I improvised. It would do little good for the masters to know my wife had flouted university rules and enrolled, dressed as a lad and hiding her sex. And I hoped Mariota would soon appear, at which time William of Uist, if I had any voice in the matter, would mysteriously disappear, never to be seen again.

“What of the messenger who arrived, the day you were attacked in town? The day Berwyk was stabbed. Had you seen him before? I’d like to find the lad and speak with him.”

“Ah, yes.” Eusebius frowned slightly and seemed to be searching his memory. “He was slightly built, wearing the robes of an undergraduate. With fair hair and blue eyes.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Indeed no, I’d not seen him before.”

“Then how did he know to warn you, here at Balliol?”

Delacey interrupted. “It is common knowledge who owns our lecture hall. Anyone would have known where to find us.”

So that proved little, although I could search the town for fair-haired scholars—after I found my wife.

Perhaps Mariota waited at home for me even now. I took some comfort in the thought although it did not entirely calm my racing heart. We bade the masters good day and continued on our way. The afternoon shadows were growing longer, for we had spent a good while searching in town, and as Donald and I walked back down Canditch I told myself we would find Mariota safe, chatting with Widow Tanner in the kitchen when we arrived home.

Phillip Woode, who had followed after us down the street, interrupted my thoughts. “Muirteach!”

“What is it?”

“I’ve remembered something. About the day Berwyk was knifed.”

We stopped a moment while Phillip caught up with us. While we waited I saw Anthony escorting Avice up the street, headed for Oxford Castle. I remembered that Ivo had asked to see his daughter and guessed that Anthony was escorting her, playing knight-errant. Avice was nicely dressed in a green tunic, with the silver medal Anthony had found tied around her neck with a ribbon. We greeted them, and I stood by while Anthony chatted with Donald a moment. I thought I noticed Phillip looking curiously at Avice before she and Anthony disappeared into the crowd headed for the town gates.

“So, what was it you wanted to tell me?” I asked Phillip as we walked toward my lodging.

Phillip shook his head and ignored my question. “That medal Avice was wearing. Do you know where she got it?”

“I think that’s the one Anthony found in the street. He must have given it to her.”

“Strange. Jonetta had a very similar one. I’d have sworn they were the same necklace. An unusual medal, a pilgrim’s badge, with a pelican on it.”

Thinking back, I remembered that Jonetta had indeed worn a similar necklace. “That is strange. I was with Anthony when he found it. It was lying in the street, near the vintner’s by the tannery. Perhaps it fell from her neck as they left the town.”

“But that road is not a major road heading from the town,” Phillip objected. “I’d have expected Jonetta and her chapman to take the North Road. There’s not much back there, not after you pass the Augustinians. Just some abandoned buildings from the time of the pestilence and open fields.”

“Perhaps she met him there, as it was little traveled.”

“Perhaps,” said Phillip, but he sounded unconvinced.

“Or perhaps it is not the same necklace at all.”

“It was unusual,” Phillip protested. “I am certain it was the same pendant.”

“Well, perhaps when Avice returns we can borrow the pendant from her and show it to Master Jakeson. Surely he or his wife will recognize it, if it was their daughter’s. Now, what was it you wished to tell me?”

“Oh. The day we were attacked in town, Berwyk was the last to seek shelter in the chapel.”

“Yes.”

“And I saw Bookman, close on his heels as we slammed the door shut.”

“So he could well have knifed Berwyk before he entered the chapel.”

“Indeed, he must have.”

“Yet he swears he did not do it,” I mused, although the
Isagoge
tied the two deaths together.

Who else had been in the chapel? Phillip Woode, Eusebius and Delacey. Had one of them knifed Berwyk? But for what reason? Berwyk was popular with the younger students. Had one of the other masters—Delacey, perhaps—been jealous? Or even Woode? I looked at him suspiciously, but Phillip only frowned a little back at me, his brown eyes concerned. He did not look like a guilty man.

“I am sure it was Jonetta’s necklace,” he insisted.

“Why are you so certain?” I asked him.

“Because it was I who gave it to her.”

“You?”

“Aye. I journeyed once to Canterbury and purchased it there. At the shrine of Saint Thomas the Martyr. A little enough thing, paltry really, but pretty I thought. And I could afford it for her. If I could have,” Phillip continued, “I’d have bought her gold and jewels.”

“How well did you know Jonetta?” I demanded.

“I know—knew—the lass well. I’d have married her, if she’d have waited for me. Instead of fleeing town with that chapman. Although I’ve never seen the man with her. You’d think I’d have noticed him, there at the tavern.”

“Did Jonetta encourage your attentions?”

“Indeed, I thought she did. That is why it surprised me so when she ran off.”

“Aye,” I said. “It surprised her parents as well.”

Phillip turned to me, his face intent. I felt pressure and winced a little as he grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh in his excitement. “Muirteach, what if Jonetta didn’t leave with the chapman after all? What if something else happened to her?”

“Such as what?”

“She could have been slain. Or abducted.”

“It’s true there’s been no sign of either Jonetta or the chapman. Grymbaud says that in the towns where he’s inquired, no one’s seen them. And the arrival of a chapman is an event in a small village. It is odd,” I said slowly.

“What of the outbuildings? Out there, behind the vintner’s? Past the Benedictines? Were they searched?”

“We can ask the undersheriff.”

“Muirteach, what if her body is lying there, undiscovered and unshriven? We must go and speak with Grymbaud this very night.”

“There’s something I must see to at my lodgings first, Phillip.” It was true that perhaps not every building in the town had been searched door to door after Jonetta’s disappearance. But I had problems of my own. “It’s growing dark now. I’ll speak to Grymbaud tomorrow. Tomorrow we can search the backlands. His men can help with that.”

“Indeed, Muirteach. Tomorrow, then. That will have to do.” Phillip turned away, disgusted, I thought, at my lack of response as we neared Widow Tanner’s.

I entered the front door, my heart pounding like a drum. I saw no sign of Mariota. I began to feel nauseated and my mouth went dry again.
“Mo chridhe,”
I called, but got no answer.

The widow emerged from a back room and looked anxiously at me. She held a wet rag.

“Widow Tanner, have you seen my wife?”

“Eh, no, sir, not since this morning.”

“She hasn’t returned at all?’

“No, sir,” the widow repeated. “I thought her to be with you.”

The anxiety I felt exploded into molten rage. “You colluded with her, woman, and now she’s disappeared,” I shouted. “She never came back this morning. She never showed at Berwyk’s funeral mass. She was to meet me there, you foolish old gossip. And there’s a murderer loose in the streets of the town.”

Widow Tanner’s face went pale. Though that did not stop my tirade. “We’ve searched the town and found not a trace of her.”

“Oh, sir, surely she’s safe.”

“Safe where? Do you see her? Is she here safe?”

Widow Tanner replied with some spirit. “Sir, I know your wife, somewhat. She would not take risks.”

“Aye, I know,” I ranted. “No risk more than dressing as a man and sneaking into university lectures, as headstrong as any undergraduate. I know she would not take risks. And that is why I am so worried.”

Widow Tanner twisted the rag in her hands.

“She would not take risks,” I repeated, catching my breath and speaking in a somewhat quieter tone. “So something must have happened.”

“Where have you searched?”

“Donald and I searched all the lecture halls this morning. The booksellers. The taverns.”

“What of the other lodging halls?’

“Not door to door,” I admitted.

“Well, you might look there. Perhaps she was taken ill and carried to one.” The widow stopped and thought. “You cannot cover the entire city, just you and Donald. You need more men. You must tell the undersheriff. He is a good man. His men will help you search.”

“Yes.” It seemed Mariota’s scheme would now come into the open. What that would mean I did not know, but I knew I needed help to find her in this city now. I turned on my heels and left the widow’s house, setting out for Oxford Castle to find Undersheriff Grymbaud.

It was full dark now, but Donald and I saw Avice and Anthony just leaving the castle gates. “Were you able to see your father, lass?” I asked.

“Aye.” Avice ducked her rabbity face down and seemed unwilling to say more.

“Old Ivo was right glad to see her,” Anthony put in. “He said he would rest easy tonight, knowing she was safe.”

“Good enough then,” I said, thinking all the while that I too would rest much easier if I knew Mariota was safe. “Anthony, you’ll see the lass home safe to Widow Tanner’s?”

Anthony stood a little straighter, proudly nodded assent, and they went on their way. Donald and I passed through the gates and into Oxford Castle. We found the undersheriff conferring with some townsfolk, who exited with serious expressions on their faces as we entered his office.

“Oh, Muirteach.” Grymbaud’s face lightened a little as he saw me. “Any news, then?”

“No, and I’ve a problem of my own.” I told the undersheriff of my missing wife and his expression hardened as he listened.

“She was dressed as a boy?”

“Aye, going by the name of William of Uist.”

“Women.” Grymbaud spat on the floor. “They cause all type of problems, when they don’t keep to the place God ordained for them.”

“My wife is somewhat headstrong,” I admitted angrily, “but she is a good healer. It does not surprise me she wanted to attend the lectures.”

“Well, would that her disappearance were the university’s problem then, and not mine,” the undersheriff groused. “But although she posed as a clerk, she is not one. No, no, Muirteach, do not leave. It falls to me. She is a good woman, and was of great help with that Berwyk affair. I’ll send some men to help you search. We can begin to check the lodging tenements now. I’ll send for torches. Best, perhaps, to start near School Street and fan out from there.”

Grymbaud gave his orders and it was not too long before some ten of his men assembled. We set out into the darkness, toward School Street. The moon had not yet risen and the side streets were quiet and dark, our torches flickering over our faces and briefly illuminating those of the few people we passed. As we neared High Street we could see the taverns were busy, although the streets were almost as dark.