Spayne nodded agreement. ‘Miller was obliged to pay Sheriff Lungspee twice to acquit him of charges of burglary, while he was one of ten men and women named for dishonest dealings at a court in Cambridge. You will know about that, I imagine, since you live there.’
‘It happened long before we became scholars,’ said Michael smoothly, immediately assuming Spayne was fishing for information to pass to Miller, his ally against the Guild. ‘So, we know nothing about it – and nor do we want to. Ancient history does not interest us.’
‘You are very wise,’ said Ursula. ‘Miller does not like anyone discussing it, and he successfully sued Kelby for slander when he once made reference to it in a speech at a Guild dinner.’
Spayne shot her a look that warned her to watch her tongue. ‘De Wetherset told me Aylmer died holding a silver chalice – the one Father Simon intends to donate to the cathedral. Did you know Simon was sold that chalice by a local man?’
Michael nodded. ‘A fellow called Chapman, whom Simon claimed was a Roman relic-seller, but who actually transpires to be one of Miller’s colleagues. One of your colleagues, too.’
‘Chapman is not my colleague,’ stated Spayne firmly. ‘He is a member of the Commonalty, but only because is he is a friend of Miller. I would object to his association with us, but he travels a lot, so seldom attends meetings anyway. I decided to let his “election” pass, in the interests of harmony.’
‘Why did you ask whether we knew it was Chapman who sold Simon the cup?’ asked Michael.
‘Because, like Aylmer, Chapman is not always honest,’ replied Spayne. ‘If he did hawk this goblet to Simon, then it is unlikely to be the real Hugh Chalice. I wanted you to know, because it may be relevant to your investigation. I am trying to assist you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Bartholomew, when Michael regarded the merchant rather suspiciously.
‘It is the truth, Brother,’ insisted Spayne, noting the monk’s wary response. ‘I have no reason to lie to you. However, you may not find others as helpful. People here are apt to stretch the truth.’
‘Not only here,’ said Michael. ‘I seem to encounter lies wherever I am.’
By the time Bartholomew and Michael left Spayne – and he only relinquished them when they promised to visit him again – the sun had set, and Michael gave up any notion of pursuing his investigation that day. It was late enough that even those merchants who traded by lamplight were beginning to close their premises, and Bartholomew felt the city was oddly deserted as they walked down the hill towards the Gilbertine Priory. The only people out were men he assumed were workless weavers, who did not look as though they had anywhere else to go. Nervously, he wondered whether they were massing to cause mischief – to attack the homes of guildsmen for not supporting them in their time of need.
‘It is Saturday night,’ explained Michael, seeing him glance around. ‘It is always quiet then, because no trading is permitted on Sundays, and shopkeepers tend to shut early. However, it is unnerving to see the city quite so empty, when we have only seen it teeming with folk.’
Bartholomew rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘We should be safe enough.’
Michael regarded him uneasily. ‘Are you thinking of challenging a few night-felons, then? Do you imagine it will ease the frustration you feel over Spayne’s refusal to help you? As I have pointed out before, you have grown rather too eager to don a weapon these days, Matt, and it is unlike you.’
‘I always wear a sword when I travel,’ said Bartholomew, surprised by the admonition. ‘And so do most men who value their lives. But I was actually thinking that your habit might afford us some protection, along with the fact that people here are oddly in awe of the Suttone clan, and seem to respect us because we arrived in company with one. I was not thinking of fighting anyone.’
‘I am glad to hear it. Violence has always been abhorrent to me. It used to be to you, too, before you went to war.’
‘I did not “go to war”. I just had the misfortune to be in a place where two armies met. And I assure you it is not an experience I am keen to repeat.’
‘I do not think Gynewell will be very impressed with my investigation so far,’ said Michael, after they had walked in silence for a while. ‘I spent most of the day listening to a merchant lust after a woman who is far too good for him.’
Bartholomew stared at the monk in astonishment. ‘He did no such thing! The memories he shared with us showed them both in a good light.’
‘That is what he wanted us to think, but I could see what was really in his head. He is a mean, bitter fellow, who has decided that Matilde will not find happiness with her friends, because he did not.’
‘I beg to differ. He is still obviously hurt by her rejection, but he is an honourable man.’
