Read Online The Tarnished Chalice by Susanna Gregory - Free Book Online
Authors: Susanna Gregory
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carouse all night without having the slightest impact on our comfort. Good night.’
She started to close the door, but Michael inserted his booted foot. ‘My apologies, madam, but we have no idea what you are talking about.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Kelby did not send you?’
Michael shook his head.
‘He is trying to make as much noise as he can, in the hope of annoying us,’ she went on. ‘He and his Guild often enjoy raucous meetings, but this one is particularly galling: they are celebrating the fact that Sheriff Lungspee found Flaxfleete innocent of setting my brother’s storerooms alight. He claimed it was Summer Madness, but we all know it was not.’
‘That is not why we came,’ said Michael. ‘We are visitors from Cambridge, and I believe Master Spayne may share a mutual acquaintance with us.’
‘I am Ursula, his sister, but I am afraid he is out.’ Ursula gave a curious half smile. ‘Please do not tell Kelby this, but when Will heard there were plans to celebrate Flaxfleete’s acquittal, he made arrangements to sleep elsewhere. He asked me to go with him, but I refuse to allow Kelby and his henchmen to drive me from my home.’
‘I see,’ said Michael. He backed away. ‘Then we shall return tomorrow.’
‘Where is your brother staying, Mistress?’ asked Bartholomew, prepared to travel some distance if it meant having answers that night. ‘Would it be possible to call on him this evening?’
‘He is lodging at the Black Monks’ Priory.’
‘How far is it?’
Her fierce expression softened. ‘Do not venture that way now. The road is haunted by footpads, and the monks always retire early in the winter. They will not admit you, and you will find you have made a wasted journey – if not a dangerous one. Can your business not wait a few hours?’
‘Yes, it can,’ said Michael firmly. ‘We are sorry to have disturbed you.’
‘Come back tomorrow. I shall be up very early, baking.’ She smiled spitefully, giving the impression that she would be doing so as noisily as possible, and that neighbours with sore heads could expect to find themselves woken before they were ready.
‘We shall call as soon as we can,’ said Michael. ‘I hope you manage some rest tonight.’
‘That is what a tincture of valerian is for,’ she said, shaking a tiny phial at them. ‘Will declines to use it when the Guild is at its revels, but I do not mind. He—’
She broke off when a high-pitched shriek issued from Kelby’s house, and there came the sound of footsteps hammering on a wooden floor. Lights flickered under thewindow shutters, and then there was shouting. When Bartholomew looked back at Ursula, she had closed the door, evidently unsettled by the sudden uproar in the enemy camp.
‘Murder!’ came a braying cry. ‘Help us!’
‘No,’ said Michael, grabbing Bartholomew’s shoulder as he prepared to respond. ‘We are strangers here. It would be foolish to interfere in something that is none of our business.’
He began to lead the way down the hill. As they passed Kelby’s house, the door was thrown open, revealing the lighted hallway within. Flaxfleete lay on the ground, heels drumming, while his friends hovered helplessly above him. He was in the throes of a fit, and Bartholomew knew from the way he was lying that he would suffocate unless he was moved. He pulled away from Michael.
‘I am a physician, Brother. I cannot stand by while a man chokes to death.’
‘This is not a good idea,’ warned Michael, following with considerable reluctance. ‘They are sure to remember who visited before this murder – and who was first to arrive when the alarm was raised.’
‘It is not murder,’ Bartholomew pointed out reasonably. ‘He is still alive.’
But when he knelt beside the stricken cleric, he could see it was no fit that afflicted him. Flaxfleete was blue around the nose and lips, he was gasping for breath, and his eyes were wide and frightened in his waxy face. His
She started to close the door, but Michael inserted his booted foot. ‘My apologies, madam, but we have no idea what you are talking about.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Kelby did not send you?’
Michael shook his head.
‘He is trying to make as much noise as he can, in the hope of annoying us,’ she went on. ‘He and his Guild often enjoy raucous meetings, but this one is particularly galling: they are celebrating the fact that Sheriff Lungspee found Flaxfleete innocent of setting my brother’s storerooms alight. He claimed it was Summer Madness, but we all know it was not.’
‘That is not why we came,’ said Michael. ‘We are visitors from Cambridge, and I believe Master Spayne may share a mutual acquaintance with us.’
‘I am Ursula, his sister, but I am afraid he is out.’ Ursula gave a curious half smile. ‘Please do not tell Kelby this, but when Will heard there were plans to celebrate Flaxfleete’s acquittal, he made arrangements to sleep elsewhere. He asked me to go with him, but I refuse to allow Kelby and his henchmen to drive me from my home.’
‘I see,’ said Michael. He backed away. ‘Then we shall return tomorrow.’
‘Where is your brother staying, Mistress?’ asked Bartholomew, prepared to travel some distance if it meant having answers that night. ‘Would it be possible to call on him this evening?’
‘He is lodging at the Black Monks’ Priory.’
‘How far is it?’
Her fierce expression softened. ‘Do not venture that way now. The road is haunted by footpads, and the monks always retire early in the winter. They will not admit you, and you will find you have made a wasted journey – if not a dangerous one. Can your business not wait a few hours?’
‘Yes, it can,’ said Michael firmly. ‘We are sorry to have disturbed you.’
‘Come back tomorrow. I shall be up very early, baking.’ She smiled spitefully, giving the impression that she would be doing so as noisily as possible, and that neighbours with sore heads could expect to find themselves woken before they were ready.
‘We shall call as soon as we can,’ said Michael. ‘I hope you manage some rest tonight.’
‘That is what a tincture of valerian is for,’ she said, shaking a tiny phial at them. ‘Will declines to use it when the Guild is at its revels, but I do not mind. He—’
She broke off when a high-pitched shriek issued from Kelby’s house, and there came the sound of footsteps hammering on a wooden floor. Lights flickered under thewindow shutters, and then there was shouting. When Bartholomew looked back at Ursula, she had closed the door, evidently unsettled by the sudden uproar in the enemy camp.
‘Murder!’ came a braying cry. ‘Help us!’
‘No,’ said Michael, grabbing Bartholomew’s shoulder as he prepared to respond. ‘We are strangers here. It would be foolish to interfere in something that is none of our business.’
He began to lead the way down the hill. As they passed Kelby’s house, the door was thrown open, revealing the lighted hallway within. Flaxfleete lay on the ground, heels drumming, while his friends hovered helplessly above him. He was in the throes of a fit, and Bartholomew knew from the way he was lying that he would suffocate unless he was moved. He pulled away from Michael.
‘I am a physician, Brother. I cannot stand by while a man chokes to death.’
‘This is not a good idea,’ warned Michael, following with considerable reluctance. ‘They are sure to remember who visited before this murder – and who was first to arrive when the alarm was raised.’
‘It is not murder,’ Bartholomew pointed out reasonably. ‘He is still alive.’
But when he knelt beside the stricken cleric, he could see it was no fit that afflicted him. Flaxfleete was blue around the nose and lips, he was gasping for breath, and his eyes were wide and frightened in his waxy face. His
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