Read Online Mystery in the Minster by Susanna Gregory - Free Book Online

shall send your share of the fee to the abbey – his family will be generous once they understand what we did for him today.’
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Helen, before Bartholomew could say that payment had been the last thing on his mind. ‘For all his faults, Longton is not miserly. Perhaps you will use it to buy a hat, because it is unwise to wander about York without one.’
    When they had gone, Bartholomew went to rinse hishands in a water butt, scrubbing until the gore that stained them had gone; he did not want to walk around a strange city looking like a ghoul.
    ‘This place is almost as bad as Cambridge for disputes,’ remarked Michael, coming to stand next to him. Langelee, Radeford and Cynric were at his heels. ‘It is torn between supporters of Mayor Longton and supporters of Gisbyrn, and some very unpleasant remarks were traded. The minster’s officials tried to quell the bickering, but they were wasting their time.’
    ‘And there is York’s dislike of Holy Trinity,’ added Langelee. ‘There
are
French spies here, and have been for years, but there is no evidence that the alien Benedictines are responsible. Only the dim-witted and bigoted believe it, but unfortunately, those seem to form a majority.’
    ‘I do not feel comfortable here,’ said Radeford, looking around uneasily. ‘Not with a murdering archer on the loose.’
    ‘Not a
murdering
archer – Sir William is not dead,’ Bartholomew pointed out, a little curtly.
    ‘He is going to live,’ said Langelee with utmost conviction, although the physician was unhappy with this assertion, too – he knew how quickly such wounds could turn poisonous. ‘Here is the arrow, by the way. I slipped it up my sleeve after Dalfeld threw it away.’
    ‘Did you?’ Bartholomew regarded him in distaste. ‘Why?’
    ‘Because he was right: arrows
are
distinctive,’ explained Langelee. ‘Look for yourself.’
    Bartholomew took it, but could see nothing unusual or notable. It had brown feathers for fletching, a shaft of pale wood, and a metal head with barbs that ensured it would embed itself in its prey. He shrugged to express his ignorance of such matters, but Cynric nodded.
    ‘I do not know about its barbs,’ said the book-bearer, ‘but the fletching is peculiar.’
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Langelee, pleased the Welshman had noticed. ‘Most fletchers use goose feathers, but these are smaller and softer. From a chicken, perhaps.’
    ‘That would be an odd choice,’ mused Cynric.
    Langelee grinned. ‘Precisely!
Ergo
, this arrow represents a vital clue in solving the crime.’
    ‘Speaking of clues, we should inspect that church,’ said Michael, turning to look at it.
    ‘Why?’ asked Bartholomew in alarm. ‘The attack is none of our concern, and York will have its own people to investigate. There might be trouble if we meddle.’
    ‘There might,’ nodded Michael. ‘But the vicars-choral were suspiciously close when Sir William was shot, and it would not surprise me to learn that
they
had a hand in it.’
    Bartholomew regarded him askance. ‘How? They were talking to you at the time. I saw them.’
    ‘Not all of them,’ countered Michael. ‘Ellis, Cave and Jafford had disappeared a few moments earlier, to fetch some documents.’
    ‘Then
why
would they harm Sir William?’ Michael had no reply, so Bartholomew continued. ‘If the quarrel we just witnessed is anything to go by, Gisbyrn is the most likely suspect, to strike at the brother of his mortal enemy. Lady Helen denies it, but—’
    ‘Lady Helen,’ said Langelee, speaking the name with naked desire. ‘She has certainly improved with the passing of time.’
    ‘She is pleasing to the eye,’ agreed Michael, his gaze rather distant.
    Bartholomew was not surprised that Helen’s loveliness had caught his colleagues’ eyes, but he was astonished that they should acknowledge the attraction openly – they usually kept such thoughts to themselves, in deference to the fact that they should at