‘Is it here now?’ asked Michael, taking a dead twig from a wreath and trying to rake the petitions towards him. ‘Do not look disapproving. I am a monk. It is all right for me to do this sort of thing.’
Bartholomew glanced through the railings. ‘You are out of luck, Brother. Simon used some very white parchment, and I cannot see it now. Perhaps he noticed it in the wrong place, and retrieved it.’
‘Or someone else got it, and decided Miller’s brother is fair game in the city’s feud. Here comes Archdeacon Ravenser. We shall ask him whether he has noticed anything untoward happening here.’
‘All the time,’ replied Ravenser, sounding surprised Michael should need to enquire. ‘Visitors are always using the stems of flowers in an attempt to snag jewels and coins. However, Tetford was scheduled to tend Little Hugh this week, and he did fulfil his obligations – unusually for him. I saw him collect the prayers and read them all. He forgot to burn them on the altar, though, as we are supposed to do.’
Michael exchanged a glance with Bartholomew. ‘What else did you see?’
‘Nothing,’ said Ravenser. ‘No, wait! There was something. I saw Tetford talking to Miller later, and whatever he was saying made the fellow very angry.’
‘He could have been telling Miller he was going to close the tavern,’ warned Bartholomew, seeing Michael start to draw conclusions. ‘And so would no longer buy Lora Boyner’s ale.’
‘You should look to the Commonalty for Tetford’s death, Brother,’ said Ravenser. ‘You certainly should not search the cathedral for clues, and especially not around me. I know Bartholomew thinks I killed Tetford to get his alehouse, but he is wrong.’
‘I shall bear it in mind,’ said Michael. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’
‘Not really. Tetford spent a lot of time with Little Hugh the day he died. Thinking, probably. He kept reading the letter Bishop de Lisle sent him, and he drank a lot of the wine Christiana sneaks into Dame Eleanor’s flask. Still, at least he had the decency to provide a replacement pot.’
He pointed to a flask, cunningly concealed at the back of the tomb. It was identical to the one in which Eleanor kept her holy water, and Bartholomew had seen others just like them for sale at the market the previous day. The physician retrieved it with difficulty, and Ravenser sauntered away. The dust Bartholomew had disturbed in laying hold of the container made him sneeze. He raised his hand to his face to stifle the noise, then recoiled in horror when his fingers reeked of fish. Thoughts tumbling in confusion, he inspected the jug’s contents. Sure enough, it held poison.
‘So, Tetford was trying to kill me,’ said Michael indignantly. ‘And here is his secret supply to prove it. He wanted me dispatched, in the hope that he would proceed straight to my stall.’
‘He did say he wanted to advance quickly in the Church,’ agreed Bartholomew. ‘Can we be surethis belonged to him? A lot of people have access to this shrine. Anyone could have put it there.’
‘Ravenser said Tetford was on duty here this week, and you have to admit it is a clever hiding place. He hatched his plot to kill me, but tried to blackmail Miller over the identity of his brother first. Fortunately for me, someone shot him before he could share his celebratory wine.’
Bartholomew shook the flask. ‘We need to dispose of this before someone else dies – dispose of it properly, I mean, by pouring it down a drain.’
‘They are all frozen solid, so it will have to go in the river. No, do not put it in your medical bag, man! We are about to visit Miller, and if he finds out you are carrying enough poison to murder his entire household, we will end up with our throats cut for certain.’
‘Well, we cannot leave it here. We shall have to go to the river first.’
‘There is no time. Did you not sense the city’s restlessness this morning? I have the feeling that unless we resolve some of these crimes fast, the place is going to explode into violence. Push the flask as far behind the tomb as you can, and we will retrieve it as soon as we have finished with Miller.’
‘Leaving poison lying around is not a good idea-’
‘And neither is carting it around a city that is on the verge of a riot. Besides, it was Tetford’s poison, and he is dead. Who else is going to use it? Do as I say, Matt. You know I am right.’
Bartholomew did know, but he was not happy about the decision, even so.
‘I know I said time was short, but we cannot see Miller yet,’ said Michael, as they left the cathedral. ‘I am too confused. I need to sit quietly for a few moments and think. With a man like Miller, asking the wrong questions might see us in very deep water, and I do not want to make unnecessary mistakes.’
‘Can you do it while we walk to the river?’ asked Bartholomew, turning to go back inside and collect the poison.
‘That will take too long, and I cannot think clearly when my heart pounds from scaling that hill anyway. We shall visit the minster refectory, and you can analyse what we have learned so far while I listen.’
