Study of Murder, The (Five Star Mystery Series) (24 page)

“I have benefit of clergy,” Delacey interjected. “As does Dickon.” He glanced at the lad’s tonsure. “The authorities can do nothing.”

“Not for sodomy,” I retorted, “although perhaps the chancellors of the university may have something to say about it. But as for murder, Grymbaud may well have interest in that.”

“But I did not kill Clarkson,” Delacey protested. “Nor Berwyk. Ivo killed Clarkson, and that bookman stabbed Berwyk. They’re imprisoned in the castle for it even now.”

“Yet they swear they’re innocent as well. No one admits to killing either man, but both are dead,” I retorted.

“You have no proof,” Delacey insisted, and in that he was right. So I left them, and Phillip Woode as well, in the old hall and returned to Widow Tanner’s.

I found Donald, alone for once, in his room. Wonder of all wonders, he appeared to be studying, although the kitten had clambered on top of the desk and sat atop Donald’s wax tablets. Donald rose as I entered the chamber. He picked the kitten up and put it on the floor.

“I wondered you did not come to supper,” he said.

“I found I was not hungry,” I replied shortly, not wanting to tell him all that had transpired with Delacey and DeVyse.

“I am sorry we found nothing today,” Donald said awkwardly.

“Aye.” But we had found something. I told Donald of Mariota’s ring, which Phillip had found in the dirt of the road.

“That is passing strange, that we did not find it earlier,” Donald commented.

“It was buried in the dirt of the road and easy to miss.”

“Yes, but what if Phillip planted it there? To throw us off the track? He was questioned in Jonetta’s disappearance, was he not? Perhaps he has something to do with Mariota’s disappearance as well.”

I grew annoyed with Donald’s wild theories, although doubtless the lad just wanted to help. But he had initially cast suspicion on Phillip Woode, and seemed to be doing so again. I bade him good night and retired to my own chamber where the absence of my wife struck me again like a dagger wound.

Although exhausted, I did not sleep well that night, and when I did sleep I dreamed disturbing dreams. I saw Mariota, who called to me from some strange crystalline prison; she seemed imprisoned in a glass vessel. I could not hear her words, only see her lips moving. Julian Delacey and young DeVyse appeared, and Ralph Berwyk stood there also, holding something out to me, but I could not divine what it might be. Delacey threw Mariota, still within the strange vessel, into an ocean. At first the thing bobbed on the surface like a boat, but then roaring waves of a whirlpool washed over my wife and carried her away. In my dream, no matter what I tried to do I could not reach her, for my limbs felt heavy as lead and could not move freely. Still I tried desperately to throw Mariota something to grasp onto. A circle of gold glinted in the waters of the whirlpool and her ring followed my wife down to the depths of the sea.

I woke, my heart racing and a cold sweat on my back. It was an evil dream, I told myself. And that was all. But where was my wife, and what was she trying to tell me? What had I not heard?

A sudden movement on the bed caused me to startle, but it was only the tabby kitten. It must have grown cold in the September night, for it came close to me and began kneading at the blanket, in the way that women make bread. Despite my misery I found some comfort in the beast and stroked it as it began to purr, until it finally curled up and slept under my arm. But I could sleep no more that night. I lay there, listening to the creak of the wooden shutters in the wind while the dark hours slowly passed.

It must have been close to Matins when I heard stirring in Donald’s chamber and a few moments later he stuck his head in my door. “I’m off to my early lecture, Muirteach.”

“Well enough,” I muttered, although I might normally have wondered at this industry on my charge’s part.

“What are you going to do this day?”

I sat up on the bed and wearily reached for my hose. “Keep searching for Mariota, I suppose. In the woods near where Phillip found her ring. Perhaps we overlooked something yesterday.”

Donald nodded. “I’ll seek you there, then, and join you after my lecture.” I nodded assent and Donald left my chamber. I heard the sound of his steps down the stairway and the noise of the door closing behind him. I remained on the bed and heard the noises of the servants about their early morning duties and smelled the faint smoke of the kitchen fire. Then, finally, I roused myself and finished dressing. I threw my mantle on over my clothes and went downstairs, thinking to get something to break my fast. From not having eaten the night before, I found to my surprise I was hungry.

The door to the house swung open again, and Donald burst back inside. “Muirteach, you must come, and quickly,” he cried before I could question him. “Anthony has been attacked!”

I heard Avice, who had come into the hall to see what was amiss, give a wail and run from the room as I followed Donald out the door and into the cold morning.

The sun was just cresting the rooftops and the blue haze of morning fires hung in the chill air like a blanket. I shivered and pulled my mantle more closely about my shoulders.

“Where is he?” I questioned. “What happened?”

“He was found on Catte Street, just near here,” Donald answered as we entered the town walls through Smithgate. “He’s been carried to his tenement. Someone struck him from behind. He’s sore hurt but not dead.”

“Thank the saints for that,” I replied. “But who would wish to hurt Anthony? He’s but a lad.”

I might have expected Donald to bristle at this reference to his friend’s youth, but he did not take offense at my speech. “I know. Anthony means harm to no one.”

“And Crispin? Where is he?”

“He had not gone to the lecture this morning, so Anthony was walking alone. I saw a crowd as I neared School Street and found that it was Anthony. They made to carry him home and I left to fetch you. But Crispin should be with him now.”

“Does he wake?” I remembered another time when someone struck from behind had slept for weeks, and that had a bad ending. My relief was great when Donald replied that Anthony had spoken to him before his litter-bearers carried him away.

“Let us see where it took place, and then let us go and speak with Anthony.”

When we got to the location of the crime, there was not much to be seen. A narrow alley opened off Catte Street, barely wide enough to admit one person. It was there that Anthony’s attacker must have waited for the boy. I could see a bit of blood still on the street, where the lad had fallen, but the growing morning light revealed nothing else in the alley. Whoever this madman might be, he showed no qualms about attacking folk from behind and I liked him the less for that.

“What of the bailiffs? Did they come? Or Grymbaud?”

“The town watch came by. They thought it just a student dispute and did nothing when it became clear that Anthony would live.”

“Well, let us go and see him.” We left that spot and walked back out through Smithgate and back down Canditch to the tenement where Anthony and Crispin lodged, midway between the Widow Tanner’s house and Balliol. Inside was a great chamber, a dormitory, where close to twelve lads lodged on pallet beds. Some small tables under the windows served as desks. The room was near empty with most of the youths at their lectures, but at the far end we saw Crispin and someone lying on one of the beds—Anthony.

We walked closer and I felt great gladness to see the lad’s eyes were open. He had a bandage tied haphazardly around his head and on the back of it I could see some blood that had seeped through. The lad’s face was white beneath his freckles but he looked alert.

“Anthony,” I greeted him. “Donald brought me news of your mischance. What happened?”

“I do not know, rightly,” Anthony admitted. “I’ve a powerful pain in my head.”

“Rest a moment. Then tell us what you do remember,” I suggested. “Perhaps it will be of help.”

Anthony relaxed against the bolster a moment, then gathered his strength and spoke. “I was walking down Catte Street. I hurried, as it had grown late and most students were already in the halls. There were not many folk about, I think.” He closed his eyes briefly.

“And then?” I prompted.

“I had just passed that alleyway and was looking for the pie man who sometimes is selling by the farther corner. I had a farthing and thought to buy one to eat on my way to class. But I did not see him, and then came the blow. Or that must have been the way it happened, for that is the last I remember.” Anthony moved his head a little, and then winced.

“It is not so bad,” I said, hoping to reassure him. “Just a bump on the noggin.”

“Indeed, you probably gave me worse that first fight we had,” Donald said. “In that tavern.”

Anthony smiled, and my heart began to feel a little lighter. “Still,” I pressed, “you know of nothing to identify your attacker?”

Anthony started to shake his head, then must have thought better of it. “No,” he replied slowly. “I did not see him. You can see he hit me from behind.” He turned his head slowly so we could see the lump under the bloody bandage.

“You’ll have a sore pate for a time,” I repeated.

“But why would anyone want to attack Anthony?” Crispin wondered. And I wondered that as well. “You’re not a threat to anyone. Now I would have seen the bastard coming.”

“Oh, now Crispin, you know what a brigand Anthony is,” Donald rejoined. “He’s a fierce one, indeed. A threat to the peace of Oxford town, indeed, he is.”

Anthony grinned, then winced again.

“What were you doing yesterday?” I asked. “Perhaps you offended someone, to cause them to lie in wait for you.”

“I did nothing out of the ordinary,” Anthony replied. “Well, I studied a time, after the lectures were over. And I went to the booksellers. I needed some ink and parchment.”

“Adam Bookman’s?” I asked. “Is he not in prison still?”

“Yes, but his wife runs the stall now. I heard you were searching the backlands, with the castle dogs. Are they as fierce as they say?”

“They are scenting hounds, not mastiffs,” I replied, thinking again of my dog in Scotland. “So they are not so fierce. But they are large, with big slavering jowls. How did you learn of that?”

“Donald told me, after supper. We played some ball behind the widow’s. You were not there.”

“No, I was with Phillip Woode,” I admitted. “Did others play with you?”

“Just some boys from here. And that lad that Delacey tutors. But he left before the game finished.”

“I can well believe that to be so,” I replied. “You look as though some rest would not be amiss.”

I thought a moment. The attack on the lad had unnerved me. Anthony might be safer at the widow’s, where more people were about during the day and I could keep watch over him.
As well as you watched over your wife
, a guilty voice inside my head nagged at me, but I ignored it for once. “Perhaps you should come and stay at the Widow Tanner’s, until your head heals,” I offered. “Crispin can come too. I am sure Avice would nurse you.”

Anthony’s face brightened considerably at this and Crispin smiled broadly. “The widow’s a fine cook,” he said, “and Avice ...”

“You’ll treat her with respect or you can stay here.”

Crispin nodded, a little sullenly.

“You can sleep in Donald’s chamber,” I added, and watched Donald’s face fall a bit. “There’s plenty of room there. I will just go on ahead and speak with our landlady, to ensure she accepts this plan,” I added. “Perhaps Donald can stay here with you until I send word.”

I left the lads and walked down Canditch to Widow Tanner’s. She agreed, although I did say I’d pay her a bit for her trouble, and I went back to Anthony’s lodging. It did not take too long to get him carried back to the widow’s house and installed into Donald’s chamber. Within a short time he was tucked into Donald’s bed while Widow Tanner fussed with his bandage and a poultice and Avice stood at the chamber door with some hot pottage. The tabby kitten amused itself by kneading affectionately at the lad’s blanket and I saw Anthony fondling the beast. I sighed with some relief. Anthony would be safe enough here. All I had to do was tolerate Crispin.

I left the lads and went into town in search of Grymbaud. I continued to Oxford Castle, where I ran him to ground in his office. I told him of the attack on Anthony.

“And you’re not thinking it was just a student dispute?”

“The lad was attacked from behind. Most student fights happen in taverns, after too much drink. Not in the early morning.”

“Did the boy have enemies?” Grymbaud asked, idly scratching at the stubble on his chin.

“He is a pleasant enough lad. He actually spends some time at his studies. His family is not overly wealthy and he is grateful for the chance to get an education. No, I do not think Anthony had enemies. Certainly none to warrant this attack.”

“Could he have angered some merchant?”

“I think not. He did say he had purchased parchment yesterday, however. I’ll go and speak with Adam Bookman’s wife and see if she has anything to say of the matter.”

“Indeed, do so, Muirteach.” Grymbaud paused a second and took a swig from the mug of ale that sat on his desk. “You may find the woman distraught. The date for the assizes is set. They will be held at the end of this week. Both Bookman and the gardener from Balliol will be brought to justice. It does not look good for either man.”

“I do not think either man is guilty,” I protested. “But I’ve found nothing as yet to prove their innocence. However, I did find something interesting last night.” I told the undersheriff of finding Delacey and Richard DeVyse.

“Those academics are all perverted. It does not surprise me. But there is no evidence that the little braggart slew Berwyk or Clarkson. And he’d just plead benefit of clergy and no doubt get off lightly, even if there was evidence. But I’ll set a man to watch the swine. Bring me some incontrovertible proof, Muirteach, and perhaps I can do something.”

“I’ve had other matters on my mind these past days.”

“Indeed. Your wife. I am sorry about that, Muirteach. You do not think she’s run off? Women are foolish creatures, you know, easily tempted and led astray.”