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Authors: Susanna Gregory
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impression of frailty, and his voice had barely been audible in the massive vaults of
the cathedral. But as he glanced up from his work, Bartholomew could see that Alan was not frail at all. He was a slight man
in his mid-fifties with a head of thick, grey hair and the kind of wiry strength that came from clambering over scaffolding
and supervising the building work for which he was famous. He was generally regarded as one of the most talented architects
in the country, and had personally overseen the raising of the cathedral’s new tower and the splendid Lady Chapel. It was
not easy keeping a band of masons and their apprentices in order, and that Alan had done so over a period spanning more than
thirty years said a good deal about the strength of his character, as well as his body.
‘Ah, Michael,’ said Alan, presenting his ring for Michael to kiss. ‘I imagine you are here because Thomas de Lisle has landed
himself in trouble again?’
‘He says Lady Blanche de Wake is responsible for these accusations,’ replied Michael, making another perfunctory obeisance.
He was never keen on acts of subservience, even to the Prior of his own monastery. ‘He assures me that he is innocent, and
has ordered me to prove it.’
Alan regarded Michael worriedly. ‘I sincerely hope you did not accept such a commission. You have a reputation for tenacity,
and if you explore this matter too closely, you will almost certainly discover that de Lisle did have a hand in this steward’s
death.’
‘
You
believe the Bishop is guilty of murder?’ blurted Bartholomew, alarmed that even the Prior should consider the accusations
a matter of fact. Michael dug him in the ribs with an elbow, but it was too late. The Prior had already fixed Bartholomew
with keen blue eyes.
‘I know harsh words were exchanged between Glovere and de Lisle, and I know that de Lisle is not a man to allow such insults
to pass unpunished. If de Lisle decided that the world would be a better place without Glovere in it, then it is not inconceivable
that Glovere’s days would have been numbered.’ Alan’s expression was sombre.
‘But he is a bishop,’ said Bartholomew, ignoring Michael’s warning prods and persisting in trying to learn why everyone was
so willing to believe de Lisle capable of the most violent of crimes. ‘I do not think that bishops merrily indulge themselves
in murdering people they do not like.’
‘No,’ agreed Alan. ‘They pay someone else to do it for them. But you seem to believe these accusations are unjust – which
is encouraging. I do not like de Lisle personally, but no monk wants to see a man of the Church in this kind of trouble, because
it reflects badly on the rest of us. I should be delighted to see him exonerated. Do you have information that might help?’
Bartholomew shook his head uncomfortably. ‘Forgive me, Father Prior. I should not have spoken. I was merely surprised that
even you believe a high-ranking churchman could be capable of murder.’
Alan’s smile was gentle. ‘You must forgive my manners, too. Michael told me to expect you this week: you are Doctor Bartholomew
from Michaelhouse, who is writing a treatise on fevers.’
‘A treatise that will shake Christendom to its very foundations,’ said Michael dryly. ‘A more fascinating and thought-provoking
work you could not hope to match – and I should know, because I have been treated to lengthy extracts from it over the last
three years. The details regarding different types of phlegm defy description.’
‘Really?’ said Alan warily. ‘I hope there are no sacrilegious sections in this work. Medical men are occasionally driven to
present their views on matters best left to monastics, and I do not want my priory associated with wild and heretical theories.’
Michael grinned. ‘There is a physician in Salerno who claims that God’s removal of Adam’s rib to make Eve would be a fatal
operation
the cathedral. But as he glanced up from his work, Bartholomew could see that Alan was not frail at all. He was a slight man
in his mid-fifties with a head of thick, grey hair and the kind of wiry strength that came from clambering over scaffolding
and supervising the building work for which he was famous. He was generally regarded as one of the most talented architects
in the country, and had personally overseen the raising of the cathedral’s new tower and the splendid Lady Chapel. It was
not easy keeping a band of masons and their apprentices in order, and that Alan had done so over a period spanning more than
thirty years said a good deal about the strength of his character, as well as his body.
‘Ah, Michael,’ said Alan, presenting his ring for Michael to kiss. ‘I imagine you are here because Thomas de Lisle has landed
himself in trouble again?’
‘He says Lady Blanche de Wake is responsible for these accusations,’ replied Michael, making another perfunctory obeisance.
He was never keen on acts of subservience, even to the Prior of his own monastery. ‘He assures me that he is innocent, and
has ordered me to prove it.’
Alan regarded Michael worriedly. ‘I sincerely hope you did not accept such a commission. You have a reputation for tenacity,
and if you explore this matter too closely, you will almost certainly discover that de Lisle did have a hand in this steward’s
death.’
‘
You
believe the Bishop is guilty of murder?’ blurted Bartholomew, alarmed that even the Prior should consider the accusations
a matter of fact. Michael dug him in the ribs with an elbow, but it was too late. The Prior had already fixed Bartholomew
with keen blue eyes.
‘I know harsh words were exchanged between Glovere and de Lisle, and I know that de Lisle is not a man to allow such insults
to pass unpunished. If de Lisle decided that the world would be a better place without Glovere in it, then it is not inconceivable
that Glovere’s days would have been numbered.’ Alan’s expression was sombre.
‘But he is a bishop,’ said Bartholomew, ignoring Michael’s warning prods and persisting in trying to learn why everyone was
so willing to believe de Lisle capable of the most violent of crimes. ‘I do not think that bishops merrily indulge themselves
in murdering people they do not like.’
‘No,’ agreed Alan. ‘They pay someone else to do it for them. But you seem to believe these accusations are unjust – which
is encouraging. I do not like de Lisle personally, but no monk wants to see a man of the Church in this kind of trouble, because
it reflects badly on the rest of us. I should be delighted to see him exonerated. Do you have information that might help?’
Bartholomew shook his head uncomfortably. ‘Forgive me, Father Prior. I should not have spoken. I was merely surprised that
even you believe a high-ranking churchman could be capable of murder.’
Alan’s smile was gentle. ‘You must forgive my manners, too. Michael told me to expect you this week: you are Doctor Bartholomew
from Michaelhouse, who is writing a treatise on fevers.’
‘A treatise that will shake Christendom to its very foundations,’ said Michael dryly. ‘A more fascinating and thought-provoking
work you could not hope to match – and I should know, because I have been treated to lengthy extracts from it over the last
three years. The details regarding different types of phlegm defy description.’
‘Really?’ said Alan warily. ‘I hope there are no sacrilegious sections in this work. Medical men are occasionally driven to
present their views on matters best left to monastics, and I do not want my priory associated with wild and heretical theories.’
Michael grinned. ‘There is a physician in Salerno who claims that God’s removal of Adam’s rib to make Eve would be a fatal
operation
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