‘Returned it to its rightful owner,’ said Cynric impatiently. ‘And the other thing I learned was that Aylmer was good at Latin, and mocked priests who were not. They did not like that at all, apparently, especially John Suttone and Simon. I shall try listening to gossip in a few more taverns tomorrow.’
‘No,’ said Bartholomew worriedly. ‘Miller suspects I witnessed Shirlok’s trial, and Michael’s investigation has a dangerous feel to it. You will not be safe in these places.’
Cynric regarded him askance. ‘I can look after myself. The only thing I fear is Bishop Gynewell. So, I had better say a few incantations, to ward him off.’
While he went to kneel next to Christiana, Michael approached Sabina, who was rubbing chicken droppings off the eggs in her basket. ‘You are freezing,’ he said sympathetically.
She nodded, blowing on her hands. ‘I do not understand how Lady Christiana can kneel for so long in here. Dame Eleanor is the same. They both spend hours at shrines and in chapels.’
‘You said you were ordered to work at this priory as penance for kissing Aylmer behind the stables,’ said Michael. ‘How long did you say you had known him?’
‘I did not confide that particular detail. Why? Would you like to steal a few kisses from me, now he is not here?’
Michael glared at her. ‘How long have you known Aylmer?’ he repeated.
She sighed. ‘We were friends for years. He was fond of Nicholas, and often visited our house.’
‘But your Nicholas died before Aylmer did,’ said Michael thoughtfully. ‘So Aylmer could not have been killed by that jealous husband.’
Sabina’s expression was wry. ‘Especially not by that one. Nicholas loved Langar, not me.’
‘Nicholas was Langar’s lover?’ asked Michael, startled.
Suddenly, Bartholomew had the answers to several questions – why Sabina had never seen the scar on her husband’s shoulder, and why she had been willing to marry a man she did not love. Nicholas had given her a home; she had reciprocated by providing him with a respectable image; and they had both gone about their separate lives unfettered. And the physician recalled Langar’s angry re action when Sabina was mentioned earlier that day; the lawyer had been envious of the relationship Nicholas had shared with his wife, regardless of the fact that it had almost certainly been chaste.
‘You and Nicholas were still friends, though, which is why you are keen to know how he died,’ he said. ‘And you also mentioned that you would have preferred to marry Aylmer, but he was in holy orders. He took his vows a month ago, when he was accused of stealing from Flaxfleete.’
She shook her head. ‘He retook his vows a month ago. He was in holy orders for more than two decades, although he lived a riotous life, and few believed he was a priest. That is why he would never marry me; he said it was a step too far along the road of sin. However, Langar’s affair with Nicholas should tell you why he is investigating that death, and why he is happy to let you find Aylmer’s killer. He cannot do both, and has chosen the one that is important to him.’
‘Could Langar have killed Aylmer?’ asked Michael. ‘Perhaps he thought it was Aylmer who gave Nicholas the poison that saw him topple into the Braytheford Pool and drown.’
‘Aylmer did not hurt Nicholas, because he was with me that night, and Langar knows it. Hence Langar did not kill Aylmer, which is a pity for all of us. It would have made for a neat solution, and once Langar is gone, Miller and the Commonalty will fall. I would love to see Langar hang.’
‘That is an interesting reaction from a woman who was accused of dire crimes at Miller’s side,’ said Michael. ‘De Wetherset told me. I am sure you recall that he was one of the jurors.’
She stared at the floor. ‘It is true, to my shame. Aylmer always said he wanted to escape from Miller and his cronies, but he never did anything about it. I have, though. I no longer take part in their evil dealings, and I am becoming a good daughter of the Church.’
‘A good daughter who kisses ordained priests behind the stables?’ remarked Bartholomew.
She pulled a face at him. ‘I am human, with human failings. None of us is perfect.’
‘Did Aylmer seem different before he died?’ asked Michael, not very interested in her feeble attempts to walk the straight and narrow.
She nodded. ‘He was thoughtful – contemplative. He was moved by the offer of Vicar Choral, and I think he was going to do his best for Master Suttone. He was weak, though, and the likes of Ravenser and Tetford would have urged him to mischief before long, so I doubt his good intentions would have lasted. I loved him dearly, but he was not a man for self-restraint.’
‘What about the other flaws in his character,’ said Michael, ‘such as his dishonesty?’
‘He did steal, on occasion,’ she admitted. ‘But I was working on that.’
‘Working for how long?’ asked Michael archly. ‘You have known him for at least two decades, given that you were both named by Shirlok in Cambridge.’
