Read Online Mystery in the Minster by Susanna Gregory - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susanna Gregory
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least try to remain chaste.
‘Of course, she
would
defend Gisbyrn,’ Langelee went on, reluctantly pulling his thoughts back to the matter in hand. ‘He manages her dead husband’s business in a very profitable manner, and has ensured that she remains wealthy. However, I imagine he keeps more than a little for himself. He always was greedy and ruthless, which is why he is such a successful merchant.’
‘So are you saying he is the culprit?’ asked Radeford. ‘Matt is right?’
‘It is a possibility, although he is more likely to have ordered his henchman Frost to do it. He would not soil his own hands, and Frost was once a professional warrior.’
‘Frost did not strike me as a man who had just shot someone,’ said Michael doubtfully. ‘He ogled Helen shamelessly, and I imagine a man who had just attempted murder would have had other matters on his mind. Personally, I still suspect those vicars.’
‘Or Dalfeld,’ added Cynric. ‘The abbey servants told me about him when you were in Abbot Multone’s solar. He is reputed to be the most devious and treacherous man alive.’
‘Very possibly,’ said Michael, smiling at the description. ‘But unfortunately, he left the abbey when we did – he has not had the opportunity to shoot anyone.’
‘I disagree,’ countered Langelee. ‘He raced away from us at a tremendous speed, and I would say he had plenty of time to sneak into the church and loose an arrow.’
‘Perhaps,’ acknowledged Radeford. ‘However, all these speculations are irrelevant, because Sir William was not the intended target. Bartholomew was.’
‘See, boy?’ muttered Cynric, nudging the physician in satisfaction. ‘I told you so.’
‘Because you are from Michaelhouse,’ Radeford went on. ‘And the vicars – along with Dalfeld their lawyer – want us frightened off. I happened to glance back towards youjust before William was cut down, and the angle would have made it very easy to miss one and hit the other.’
‘It is possible, Matt,’ nodded Michael. ‘I am one Benedictine out of dozens who live here, while Langelee, Radeford and Cynric are wearing hooded cloaks that render them anonym ous. But you are distinctive by being bare-headed. You are certainly the easiest target.’
Cynric promptly shoved his own cap in the physician’s hand. It was festooned with pilgrim badges from sites the book-bearer had never visited, interspersed with pagan charms to ward off various kinds of evil. Bartholomew regarded it without enthusiasm, suspecting the Abbot might have something to say if he saw such an item sported within his precincts.
‘So if there are murderous designs on us – by the vicars or anyone else – we have a right to investigate,’ concluded Michael.
There was a gleam in his eye that Bartholomew did not like, and he saw the monk was keen to put his formidable wits to solving the case. Michael had been bored on the journey north, and the prospect of an intellectual challenge was obviously an attractive one.
‘Hide the arrow in your bag, Bartholomew,’ ordered Langelee. ‘I shall show it to a few fletchers later. Meanwhile, we shall all go to see what St Mary ad Valvas has in the way of clues.’
‘Must we, Master?’ asked Cynric uneasily. ‘Lady Helen said it was cursed.’
‘It was not cursed when I lived here,’ said Langelee dismissively, beginning to stride towards it. ‘At least, not that I remember.’
The troubled expression on Cynric’s face said he did not find this assurance very comforting.
* * *
Although the minster precinct was busy, no one seemed to take any notice as they walked to the derelict church. Bartholomew felt exposed and uncomfortable, though, sensing hidden eyes, and when one of St Mary’s broken window shutters slammed with a sharp report, he jumped violently.
‘How good are you with arrow wounds, Bartholomew?’ asked Radeford nervously. ‘Will you be able to remove a second missile, should one come our
‘Of course, she
would
defend Gisbyrn,’ Langelee went on, reluctantly pulling his thoughts back to the matter in hand. ‘He manages her dead husband’s business in a very profitable manner, and has ensured that she remains wealthy. However, I imagine he keeps more than a little for himself. He always was greedy and ruthless, which is why he is such a successful merchant.’
‘So are you saying he is the culprit?’ asked Radeford. ‘Matt is right?’
‘It is a possibility, although he is more likely to have ordered his henchman Frost to do it. He would not soil his own hands, and Frost was once a professional warrior.’
‘Frost did not strike me as a man who had just shot someone,’ said Michael doubtfully. ‘He ogled Helen shamelessly, and I imagine a man who had just attempted murder would have had other matters on his mind. Personally, I still suspect those vicars.’
‘Or Dalfeld,’ added Cynric. ‘The abbey servants told me about him when you were in Abbot Multone’s solar. He is reputed to be the most devious and treacherous man alive.’
‘Very possibly,’ said Michael, smiling at the description. ‘But unfortunately, he left the abbey when we did – he has not had the opportunity to shoot anyone.’
‘I disagree,’ countered Langelee. ‘He raced away from us at a tremendous speed, and I would say he had plenty of time to sneak into the church and loose an arrow.’
‘Perhaps,’ acknowledged Radeford. ‘However, all these speculations are irrelevant, because Sir William was not the intended target. Bartholomew was.’
‘See, boy?’ muttered Cynric, nudging the physician in satisfaction. ‘I told you so.’
‘Because you are from Michaelhouse,’ Radeford went on. ‘And the vicars – along with Dalfeld their lawyer – want us frightened off. I happened to glance back towards youjust before William was cut down, and the angle would have made it very easy to miss one and hit the other.’
‘It is possible, Matt,’ nodded Michael. ‘I am one Benedictine out of dozens who live here, while Langelee, Radeford and Cynric are wearing hooded cloaks that render them anonym ous. But you are distinctive by being bare-headed. You are certainly the easiest target.’
Cynric promptly shoved his own cap in the physician’s hand. It was festooned with pilgrim badges from sites the book-bearer had never visited, interspersed with pagan charms to ward off various kinds of evil. Bartholomew regarded it without enthusiasm, suspecting the Abbot might have something to say if he saw such an item sported within his precincts.
‘So if there are murderous designs on us – by the vicars or anyone else – we have a right to investigate,’ concluded Michael.
There was a gleam in his eye that Bartholomew did not like, and he saw the monk was keen to put his formidable wits to solving the case. Michael had been bored on the journey north, and the prospect of an intellectual challenge was obviously an attractive one.
‘Hide the arrow in your bag, Bartholomew,’ ordered Langelee. ‘I shall show it to a few fletchers later. Meanwhile, we shall all go to see what St Mary ad Valvas has in the way of clues.’
‘Must we, Master?’ asked Cynric uneasily. ‘Lady Helen said it was cursed.’
‘It was not cursed when I lived here,’ said Langelee dismissively, beginning to stride towards it. ‘At least, not that I remember.’
The troubled expression on Cynric’s face said he did not find this assurance very comforting.
* * *
Although the minster precinct was busy, no one seemed to take any notice as they walked to the derelict church. Bartholomew felt exposed and uncomfortable, though, sensing hidden eyes, and when one of St Mary’s broken window shutters slammed with a sharp report, he jumped violently.
‘How good are you with arrow wounds, Bartholomew?’ asked Radeford nervously. ‘Will you be able to remove a second missile, should one come our
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