Study of Murder, The (Five Star Mystery Series)

by McDuffie, Susan

  Donald relished it all. He was more at home in towns, having spent some time in Edinburgh. As we passed the street that led to the Adam Bookman’s we saw Master Clarkson leaving, walking rapidly as though angry, away from the stationer’s. He did not see us in the crowd and strode quickly out through North-gate.

  “Yon’s your master,” I jibed. “Don’t you wish to go greet him?”

  “Och, no, he seems busy,” replied Donald, who seemed in no hurry to begin his studies. “I’m wanting a meat pie.” He walked back a few steps to the pie man and purchased the treat. Then Donald turned, as though he saw someone he recognized.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “I think it was Jonetta, the tavern keeper’s daughter,” Donald mumbled, his mouth full of pastry. I turned, too, but the crowds were thick and I could not see the woman, just a gray robe disappearing behind a corner.

  “Was she wearing a gray cloak?” I asked.

  Donald shook his head and wiped some crumbs from his mouth. “Just the same green tunic she had on last night.” He sighed, obviously love-struck. “She’s a bonny girl.”

  “Doubtless she’s on an errand for her father,” Mariota put in. Donald looked disappointed, and I thought I saw Mariota hide a smile, but she said nothing else. I smiled back at Mariota and when I next looked round, Donald had vanished. “Where has the lad gotten to?”

  Mariota scanned the crowd. “There he is, Muirteach. Oh, dear.”

  The reason for Mariota’s distress became evident when I saw Donald making his way back through the streets with a large, bulky package.

  “And what is that?” I asked him sharply in Gaelic, regretting the money I had given the lad from his father’s funds before our trip into town.

  “It is a lute, a beauty. I’ve always wanted one. A French musician had one on him at Dumbarton.”

  “And can you play it?”

  “No, but I’ll learn easily.”

  I doubted that but managed to hold my tongue.

  We strolled with our parcels through the throngs and out toward Northgate. As we exited the town walls we saw Phillip Woode entering the town, heading toward High Street.

  “I’m thinking perhaps he’ll be off to The Green Man, to study his Quadrivium with Jonetta,” Mariota whispered to me when Donald could not hear. I myself thought perhaps she had the right of it, but I said nothing.

  We made our way back to Widow Tanner’s, my own stomach growling as the shadows grew longer. She had a fine meal prepared for us, a roasted chicken and some manchet loaves, as well as some apples and cheese. Donald had an appetite, despite his snacks at the market. I had not tasted the pie man’s wares and fell to with spirit, as did Mariota. After eating our fill, we retired, leaving Donald trying to tune and play his lute, and Mariota and I enjoyed the privacy of our chamber.

  The next morning, early, we rose and rousted Donald from his bed. He had stayed up late and had much to learn about the lute, although he made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in training. Mariota and I had cringed as we heard him through the wall that separated our rooms. But this morning he was wanted at the college, for his appointment with his tutor.

  It took but a few minutes to walk to the college. Donald went inside to meet with Clarkson, and I bided my time in the back garden behind the hall. A wooden bench near the house looked over the backlands. There was a vegetable garden, privies, and some open space, as well as a small cottage, a servant’s I guessed. The gardener tended to the vegetables while I looked on.

  Some of the fellows kicked a pig’s bladder around the backspace, as breakfast was finished and they were between lectures. I idly listened to voices wafting out of an open window behind. It seemed they were arguing, about what I could not be sure. At least it was not Donald’s voice, I thought, enjoying the moment of leisure and the rare September sunshine. My eyes closed, and I drifted off.

  I woke as someone sat down next to me. I opened my eyes to see Phillip Woode.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to disturb you.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I am just waiting on young Donald. It is no disturbance,” but I was not ready for what he said next.

  “It is so unfair!” he exploded.

  “What is?” I asked, recognizing his voice as one of the ones I had heard from the window.

  “I have always wanted to be a physician. But I cannot attend lectures at other schools until I have my baccalaureate. And I have prepared, I am ready, but that man will not hear my disputation. He refuses to approve me.”

  “Why not just attend the lectures?” I asked, curious as to how these things worked.

  “No, one must be matriculated. That is, the master accepts you and writes your name on his list of approved students. And the master at the other school refuses to accept me until Clarkson approves me.” He glanced at me. “I know the work, I know the arguments, but when it comes to disputio, my wits leave me. I can think of nothing to refute the arguments, and my memory takes flight. I know I could be a good physician, but I shall never even get the chance to try.”

  He took a deep breath, struggling for control. “When I think of all my father has sacrificed, to get me here. And I am such a dullard, my wits leave me. Clarkson has said if I cannot dispute properly, he will send me away.”

  “And could you not then attend the medical lectures?”

  Phillip shook his head. “No. The founder of the school here funds me. There are sixteen of us poor scholars.” He looked at me and gave a wry grin. “You can see why it is that I prefer the tavern. Wine lends me wit.”

  “You could dispute when drunk.”

  “Perhaps that might be best. But I am sorry, I have taken your time with my troubles.”

  “It is no problem,” I answered. “But here is my charge.” Donald emerged from the hall and kicked at a clod of dirt on the pathway. “Let us see how his meeting with his tutor went.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Phillip. “Well, I must be away to prepare for this afternoon’s disputes.” And he left.

  “How did it go?” I asked Donald.

  Donald appeared nonchalant. “He’s very learned.”

  “Oh?” I said.

  “He didn’t like my Latin, and bade me study. I hate rhetoric. And grammar. It’s dull, and there’s no point. And I had to wait some time to see him. He wants me to attend lectures. Like a commoner.”

  “Well, that is why your father sent you here, is it not?”

  Donald scowled and kicked at a clump of grass. “I might as well be back at Dumbarton.”

  “Och,” I said, “surely it’s not as bad as all that. You’re no longer a hostage, and your own grandfather is the royal King of Scotland.” Donald didn’t reply. “Come,” I continued, for I was feeling hungry myself, “let’s go into town, to that tavern. I could do with some food, and you’ve had nothing to eat today yet.”

  Donald assented, and we left the college and made our way into town and down to the tavern. It seemed unnaturally quiet, and Mistress Jakeson served us our ale with red eyes. Again, we did not see Jonetta, and now I wondered at it.

  “Where is your daughter?” I asked, as she brought us bowls of stew.

  Mistress Jakeson stared at me strangely, then rushed away from us back to the kitchens. Her husband, standing nearby, shook his head.

  “She’s taking it badly,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Our daughter’s gone. Run off, I’m thinking.”

  “Surely not,” I said, thinking of the winsome girl who had served us two days ago.

  “Well, she’s not here. She’s been gone since yesterday. And we’ve no idea where she might be.”

  “Have they searched?”

  “I called the authorities, and they’ve put the word out. And searched, aye. We’ve all been searching. But no sign of her.” He sighed. “She’s a good girl. It’s not like her.”

  “Could she have run off with someone? A man?” I felt a chill cross my heart.

  “I’m
not knowing who. I keep a sharp eye on her, for all that she serves in the tavern.”

  I thought about seeing her with Phillip Woode. Donald remembered too, for he blurted out, “I saw her here speaking with that Phillip. From Balliol. The student. That first night we stayed here. She sat next to him a moment, but he seemed insistent.”

  “Aye,” said Master Jakeson thoughtfully. “He comes here and did often speak with her.”

  “But we have just seen Phillip,” I pointed out, “at the school. And Jonetta was certainly not there.”

  “But then we saw her in the market yesterday,” Donald offered. “After we left this place.”

  “I did not see her,” I added quickly. “When I looked, she had disappeared.”

  “Still, I will tell the town constable,” Master Jakeson said. “And the undersheriff, Grymbaud. Perhaps that Phillip has hidden her away someplace. I am sorry to say this, young sir, but students are often licentious, that is no secret.”

  “They are young, and many are on their own, away from family constraints,” I put in mildly.

  “No, no, it can be very bad, sir. Very bad. There were riots here some twenty years ago, I remember them well. My wife and I were but newly married. There was fighting in the streets for three days; the students took refuge in Saint Mary’s of the Virgin and the townsfolk in another church. Many folk were killed. Many students. The mayor still must make penance to the university every St. Scholastica’s Day for the town’s part in it all. But it never would have come to pass if that student had not attacked the poor tavern keeper. He did not like the wine he was served. Such a brawl for naught, and folk dead as well. God rest their poor souls. I pray my poor girl be safe, and not lying in an alley someplace, unshriven.”

  I shivered as though someone had stepped on my grave. “Surely they will find her.”

  “They’ve not found her yet,” Master Jakeson replied darkly, and he went to attend to some other customers.

  “Muirteach,” said Donald, “you could look into it.” The lad was sounding a lot like his father, too much for my liking. My jaw began to tense as I listened to him. “I know you have solved many mysteries for my father.”

  “I am thinking the officials have it well under control.”

  “I am thinking not, for they haven’t found Jonetta yet.” Donald drained his glass. “And we were some of the last folk to see her.”

  “You saw her, I did not.”

  “Still, we must tell the authorities what we saw. And perhaps we can be of help.”

  A shaft of light shot through the dimly lit tavern as the front door opened and in walked a man, heavy-set, of middle years, wearing a hauberk. He strode over to Master Jakeson and spoke seriously to him for a moment. I suspected this must be the undersheriff, and my suspicions increased when Master Jakeson motioned toward us and walked toward our table with the stranger.

  “This be a young lord from the north, here to study, with his man.” I bristled at the introduction, but it was true. “Sirs, this be Walter Grymbaud, our undersheriff. The High Sheriff is often away in London and Walter is in charge in his absence. These men were saying they saw my Jonetta in the market yesterday.”

  Donald told the man what he had seen, and then blurted out, “My man, Muirteach here, has a good head for solving mysteries. He has helped my father, who is a great lord in Scotland. The Lord of the Isles.”

  I groaned inwardly, wishing my charge had kept his mouth closed tight.

  Undersheriff Grymbaud did not look overly impressed, but Donald continued, undeterred. “He can be of assistance to you, I am sure. You are welcome to his services.”

  The man looked thoughtful; I strove to avoid this awkward situation. “I apologize, sir. The lad is somewhat forward. I do not seek to do your duty for you.”

  “No, you might be of some use,” Grymbaud replied. “Since you are at the college, perhaps you can keep an eye on this Phillip Woode for me. Just let me know if you see anything suspicious in his movements, or such. That would indeed be of help. Townsfolk are not overly welcome in the schools, and if a university man commits a crime the university chancellor has jurisdiction. But I will question him, all the same. Perhaps we will learn something of use.” He gave orders to several of his men to go and fetch Woode to the castle to “assist in inquiries.”

  Donald and I finished our ale, although my throat was tight and I could barely swallow for all the anger that I felt. Phillip seemed a nice enough man, and now he would be painted with suspicion, and it seemed he was already not on good terms with the master of the college. And Donald himself had landed me in a difficult spot. For if I helped the authorities search for the missing lass, I would not be watching over my charge.

  Donald, however, seemed pleased with himself. It was with bad grace that I threw a penny on the table for our ale and tried to hustle Donald back to our lodgings. He had schoolwork to attend to. We were not here to solve mysteries.

  CHAPTER 3

  * * *

  When we got back to our lodgings I found Mariota busily sewing with Widow Tanner, working on the linen she had purchased yesterday in the market. It looked to be a shirt. We told her and the widow of Jonetta’s disappearance.

  “What a sad thing. She’s a bonny lass,” Mariota murmured. The widow rushed off, saying she was away to church to pray for the poor girl. This left Mariota, myself, and Donald, and I found I did not much want to be spending the rest of the day with Donald, still annoyed as I was with him.

  “Go and get that old parchment we bought yesterday. Take it out and soak it in some water, it must soften for a time. The widow’s serving man will have a bucket. Or get one from the cook. We will have to scrub the parchment clean before you can use it, with bran and milk; and you must learn how to do it.”

  Donald opened his mouth to protest, but I gave him a glare and he shrugged his shoulders and complied, leaving the room with an unpleasant swagger.

  I told Mariota what Donald had done, and how now I was to help the undersheriff search for Jonetta. “And I’m thinking Donald is pleased with all of this, for I’ll not be there to chaperone him as much—indeed, that was probably behind his suggesting it,” I fumed.

  “You do not think he could be truly concerned for the lass?” Mariota suggested. “And was thinking you could be of help? You have helped his father, you know.”

  “Perhaps, but I had you to help me, mo chridhe,” I replied, somewhat mollified.

  “And am I not here now as well? For Muirteach, I cannot sit here and sew with Widow Tanner every day, I shall go mad.”

  “I do not want you to involve yourself, mo chridhe.”

  The set of Mariota’s jaw did not look promising to me. We dropped the subject and spoke of other things.

  Just then Donald entered the room. “I’m away to the college. I want to see if that Phillip has confessed to the crime.”

  “There’s been no crime proved as yet. We do not know what has happened to the poor lass. Best to remember that before making wild accusations.”

  Donald scowled and I wondered whose company was preferable, his or my wife’s. I went with him, leaving Mariota to fume at the widow’s. It was not my fault that women were not allowed in the schools.

  We arrived at the hall to find things in a bit of an uproar. The younger students milled excitedly around in the backlands. I saw Anthony and Crispin and asked what had transpired.

  “The undersheriff came,” said Anthony, breathless. “And accused Phillip of making off with that Jonetta. The girl from the tavern,” he added unnecessarily. “With the tits.”

  “She’s disappeared.”

  “Aye,” Crispin said, “that is what we heard. But we were with him that evening at the tavern. He came back with us that night. And yesterday, he was gone in the afternoon, but back here with us in the evening, and no Jonetta with him.”

  “Where is Phillip the now?” I asked.

  “They questioned him, but left him here. No one had seen him with Jonetta yeste
rday, there was no proof, and since he is under minor orders, he would not be subject to civil laws.”

  “He is a good man,” said Anthony hotly. “He liked Jonetta well, but he would do her no ill. Who accused him of this?”

  Donald said nothing and neither did I. I, at least, was grateful Phillip had not been taken to Oxford Castle for questioning. And Donald looked uncomfortable. Perhaps he would begin to learn some restraint.

  “Where is he now?” I asked.

  “He is closeted with Master Clarkson,” Crispin replied. “They have been in the master’s chamber for some time now, since the sheriff’s men left.”

  Just then we saw Phillip emerge from the hall and walk quickly to the other building that served as the dormitory for most of the scholars at Balliol.

  “I wonder what has happened,” Crispin mused. “Come, Anthony, let us go and speak with him.” The boys left.

  “You see what your meddling has accomplished,” I hissed at Donald. “I am sure he is not involved in Jonetta’s disappearance.”

  Donald looked somewhat subdued, and we left the college and walked back to Widow Tanner’s.

  “Now, you’d best get busy scrubbing some of those parchments you left soaking before dinner. You can do it inside here, at this desk.”

  Donald sat down to the laborious task. I remembered days of doing this as a young boy, at the Priory, and sympathized somewhat with him. It was a boring job, scrubbing old parchments with a mixture of bran and milk.

  Mariota was still sewing and I did not quite know what to do with myself. I felt hungry, but it lacked some time yet until dinner. I approached Donald’s desk. He was working with alacrity.