De Wetherset stifled a sigh of impatience. ‘Because Flaxfleete is dead and Simon is missing. That means only Michael, you and I are left out of five canons-elect.’
‘And two of your Vicars Choral are dead as well,’ said Hamo, doing nothing to soothe the atmosphere of tense agitation. ‘Aylmer and Tetford were-’
‘As far as I can tell, the last time Simon was seen was when he parted company with you last night,’ said Roger to Michael. ‘You went to say prayers in the cathedral, and Simon walked home.’
‘Perhaps he is still in the city, then,’ said Bartholomew, noting Michael’s sly glance at Christiana: the monk did not want her to know where he had really been. ‘And we are searching the wrong-’
‘You said he wanted to return here as soon as possible, because he thought it was going to snow,’ interrupted Roger. ‘Why would he have lingered elsewhere?’
‘I hope nothing bad has happened to him,’ said Eleanor unhappily. Christiana took her hand. The younger woman had forgotten to arrange her hair properly that morning, a sign of her concern.
Michael’s expression was grim. ‘And we should not forget that he is not the only thing missing: so is the Hugh Chalice.’
‘It was there yesterday afternoon,’ said Dame Eleanor. ‘I saw it myself.’
‘So did I,’ said Roger. ‘Therefore, it must have gone missing between then and midnight, when we all went to pray for Simon. That is a gap of about nine hours.’
‘I have searched every building in the convent,’ said Hamo. ‘The chalice is not here.’
Michael rummaged in the bag he carried, and held a cup in the air. ‘Is this it?’
‘You have it!’ exclaimed Roger, while Eleanor and Christiana gasped in surprise, and Hamo looked peeved that he had wasted so much time searching for it.
‘Examine it carefully,’ ordered Michael. De Wetherset started to speak, but the monk silenced him with a glare. ‘Is this the Hugh Chalice you have been minding since Aylmer was stabbed?’
Roger did as he was told. He tried to hand it to Dame Eleanor, but she hesitated to touch it, so he passed it to Hamo, and no one spoke until the Brother Hospitaller looked up.
‘It is the one,’ said Roger, while Hamo and Eleanor nodded agreement. ‘Look at the engraving of the Baby Jesus. The artist gave him only three fingers on his left hand, which makes it distinctive and unique. Why do you want to know if we recognise it, when it is obvious we would?’
‘Then what about this?’ asked Michael, producing a second cup.
Hamo snatched it from him. ‘They are the same! This babe has three fingers, too!’
Michael inclined his head. ‘So which is the real one?’
‘This,’ said Hamo, pointing to the first. ‘It is shinier than the second, and Simon kept it well polished. The other must be a copy.’
‘And these?’ asked Michael producing a third, a fourth and a fifth.
Dame Eleanor shook her head in appalled disbelief, while the two Gilbertines were more vocal, shouting their dismay and horror. Hamo stood all five cups in a line, and his face was white when he informed the gathering that Jesus only had a total of fifteen left-hand fingers: the ‘unique’ carving had been precisely duplicated. Then Roger covered his eyes while Christiana swapped them around, and the prior was forced to admit that he could not tell one from the other, and that he had no idea which of the five had been in his chapel for the past few days.
‘If any,’ said Christiana. ‘Perhaps the original is with Simon – or with a thief who killed him and made off with it. His may be the real one, and these five are just poor imitations.’
‘They are not poor imitations, My Lady,’ countered Hamo. ‘They are very good ones. However, Simon’s must be the genuine relic one. Why else would it be stolen?’
‘Perhaps none is the original,’ suggested de Wetherset. ‘Perhaps there is no original.’
‘How many of these things are there, Brother?’ asked Eleanor, after the monk had explained that Cynric had ‘found’ one and the others had been confiscated from cathedral ‘seamstresses’. Bartholomew did not think he had ever heard so many euphemisms in a single sentence. ‘Or do you have them all?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Michael. ‘It was only chance that we happened to stumble on these. I would like to know how Tetford came to have four silver-’
‘Metal,’ corrected Roger. ‘I know silver when I see it. These are probably tin.’
‘-four metal goblets to give his sewing ladies,’ finished Michael. ‘And we are not in a position to make enquiries about the one Cynric “recovered”, either. It is difficult to know how to proceed.’
