Michael took it. The crossbow bolt had gone clean through the middle, and it was empty except for a dribble of liquid in the bottom. Bartholomew indicated he should sniff it.
‘Fish?’ asked Michael, wincing. The scent was powerful and unpleasant.
‘Poison,’ replied Bartholomew. ‘The same substance that saw Nicholas Herl drown in the Braytheford Pool and that gave Flaxfleete his fatal fit.’
‘Tetford offered it to me,’ said Michael aghast. ‘Are you saying he was trying to commit murder?’
‘Possibly,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Assuming he knew the wine was tainted.’
‘He wanted me to drink it first,’ said Michael unsteadily.
‘True, but that may have been simple good manners. A dead canon does not need a Vicar Choral, so I suspect you would have been more useful to him alive.’
‘Perhaps he wanted the Stall of South Scarle itself,’ suggested Cynric, ‘and did not like the notion of spending a year as a deputy. Men have killed for a good deal less. I am more worried about the other four, though, Brother. Tetford is no longer a problem, but these others may try to harm you again.’
‘You seem to think the attack was aimed at me. Why not at Matt?’
‘Because I am not the one charged to find Aylmer’s killer,’ answered Bartholomew.
‘But you are here to search for information that may help you locate Matilde, and I have already told you Spayne does not like it.’
‘None of our attackers was Spayne.’
‘Did you see their faces? No, because they were careful to keep them hidden. The tall swordsman who tackled you could easily have been Spayne. I imagine he was trained to use a blade in his youth.’
‘And do not forget Miller,’ said Cynric to Bartholomew. ‘You denied knowing anything about Shirlok’s trial, but there is nothing to say he believed you. He is sensitive about it, and may want to silence you before you say anything. Then you both declined to accept his bribes on Friday. And then you had that set-to with Chapman this morning.’
Bartholomew did not argue, because Cynric was right. ‘So there were two separate attacks on us tonight: the quartet with daggers, bows and sword. And Tetford with poison.’
Michael nodded. ‘I think we can safely say that someone does not want us here.’
The next day was windy, and rattling window shutters woke Michael long before dawn. He tossed and turned for a while, then noticed Cynric sitting by the hearth, prodding life into the dying embers of the fire. He went to sit next to him, stretching chilled hands towards the feeble glow. They were not alone for long. The gathering gale disturbed Simon, de Wetherset and Suttone, too. They clustered around the blaze, talking in low voices, so as not to disturb Bartholomew, although Michael knew it would take more than wind and a discussion to rouse his friend. Bartholomew was a heavy sleeper, and very little woke him once he was asleep – the notable exception being the Gilbertines’ bells.
‘You really heard nothing of our fracas?’ asked Michael, recalling the racket they had made.
‘You know how loudly they sing here,’ replied Suttone. ‘It is enough to wake the dead, and I heard nothing else at all. The only reason Cynric did was because he was in the kitchen.’
‘I was one of the warblers,’ said Simon. ‘So I heard nothing but my own sweet music.’
De Wetherset was thoughtful. ‘Now I see how easy it must have been to dispatch Aylmer. When he was stabbed, he probably uttered no more than a startled gasp, which would have been inaudible to anyone except his killer.’
‘Someone wants my investigation to fail,’ said Michael. ‘Or perhaps Spayne dislikes us looking for Matilde.’ He did not mention his suspicions about Miller, because that would entail discussing the Shirlok trial, and the physician’s wariness of de Wetherset was beginning to rub off on him.
‘Mayor Spayne would never hire killers,’ declared Simon. ‘He is not that kind of man.’
‘Then what about you, Father?’ asked Michael. ‘Since Aylmer’s death is intricately associated with your Hugh Chalice, you have a very good reason for not wanting the matter probed too deeply.’
Simon glared at him, offended by the bald accusation. ‘I told you: I was at my devotions, both when Aylmer died and when you were attacked last night. I am involved in neither incident.’
‘Lincoln is home to dozens of unemployed weavers who are desperate for money,’ Michael went on. ‘I imagine it would be easy to find someone willing to kill in exchange for a good supper.’
Simon regarded him coldly. ‘I imagine so, but that assumes I am afraid of what your investigation might reveal, and I am not. The Hugh Chalice is genuine, and if you say it is not, you will be wrong.’
‘Michael will not denounce the Hugh Chalice,’ said Suttone confidently. ‘It is real, so there cannot be any evidence to the contrary.’
‘How do you know it is real?’ asked Michael, startled by the conviction in his colleague’s voice.
‘Gynewell told me, and he is a friend of the family. He would never be deceived by a false relic.’
