Study of Murder, The (Five Star Mystery Series)
Page 8
“I’ll go with you,” I offered.
The streets of town were full, as crowds of students headed toward High Street from School Street. Most walked in groups, boisterous and loud, as they headed for ale-houses. I noticed one youth walking alone, wearing a hood and a blue tunic, who seemed to glance at me and then walk quickly to the other side of the street, as though wanting to avoid me. There was something familiar about the lad.
We saw him again as we neared the bookseller’s stall. The boy seemed about to approach, but then he saw us and began walking quickly away.
“I will leave you,” I excused myself to Master Berwyk. “I must attend to something.”
Leaving him, I walked rapidly after the boy, who darted into an alley off of High Street. I ran after and caught up with him, grabbing him by the arm.
“Let me go, sir,” protested the youth.
“Indeed I shall not.”
“I was doing naught to you. Let me go.”
“I think not.” I kept my hold on the lad’s arm and turned him around to face me. “Mariota, what are you doing here?”
The hood fell back, and I looked into the lovely blue eyes of my wife.
CHAPTER 7
* * *
“It’s nothing to you, Muirteach. I was attending the lectures,” Mariota said, quickly pulling the hood back over her head and tucking her hair back inside. “Medical lectures.”
“But mo chridhe—”
“What, Muirteach,” my wife hissed in a low voice, and I could tell from the edge in it that she was annoyed. I myself had to restrain the urge to throttle my spouse. “Am I to just sit and sew with our landlady all the day? I shall go mad. And to be so close to all this knowledge and not be able to hear some of it—what else would you have me do?”
“But what if they find out?”
“No one will find out,” she pointed out, “unless you tell them. I enrolled as William, from Uist. It’s the back of beyond. No one will think to question it. And I just attend the lectures and go back to the widow’s. I won’t be idling in the ale-houses, unlike most of my peers.”
“Does she know of this?”
Mariota nodded, her chin thrust forward defiantly. “Aye. I had to tell her, as I have to leave in men’s garb. She helped me. If any one inquires, she will tell them that a William lodges there. And now, sir,” she continued in a louder voice, as two men started down the alley toward us, “I must be on my way. Good day to you.”
I walked with her. “I am not letting you walk alone through these streets. It isn’t safe.”
“It certainly won’t be safe if you expose me. Muirteach, let me be.” And with that she walked rapidly to High Street and left me standing, dumbfounded, in the alley.
I stalked home, furious. Scarlet anger coursed through my veins. As I walked, dodging the filth in the streets and the occasional chamber pot emptied from upper stories, I cursed my wife, my charge and my overlord who had insisted we come on this foolish journey. As I crossed through the Northgate and passed Old Balliol Hall, I cursed all academics foolish enough to get themselves murdered, and every student in the town for good measure.
My mood did not improve when I entered our lodgings and heard Donald plunking away at his damned lute. He should have been studying. It was all I could do not to barge into his chamber and break the hideous instrument over the lad’s head. I briefly considered what a nice fire the wooden instrument would make. Where had he gotten it? I remembered the shop and mulled the possibility of taking the lute and breaking it over the shopkeeper’s crown instead.
“William” had not yet arrived home and I went to find Widow Tanner. I charged into the kitchen and found my landlady seated at a table in the kitchen shelling beans.
“Where’s ‘William’?” I demanded.
Widow Tanner’s face blanched paler than the white beans she was shelling. “William?”
“My wife, damn it. Where is she? What were you thinking of to aid her in this harebrained scheme?”
Widow Tanner stood upright. “And is it so wrong for her to want to study?”
“Can’t you see it is not safe? The town is full of murderers. Not to mention licentious students!”
“She’ll be safe enough,” the widow protested.
“Do you really think she’ll be safe if the masters discover she’s not a lad? Or those students?”
“Sir, she was determined. I could not dissuade her. Nor do I think it so very wrong.”
“Aye, so you colluded with her. Where is she?”
“She’s returned safe enough and went to your chamber to change her garb.”
I had not looked in our chamber, incensed as I was. Now, feeling somewhat foolish as well as furious, I left the kitchen and threw the door of our room open. Mariota was just closing the lid of the chest, now dressed in her own long shift and kirtle. She turned to face me, biting her lip. “Muirteach, I know you’re angry—”
“And why should I not be?”
“Muirteach, can’t you understand? It’s the only way I can attend the lectures; that’s why I wanted to accompany you! That’s why I came on this journey.”
“Just to hear lectures? Not to be with me?”
“Well, of course I wanted to be with you,” Mariota amended, unconvincingly I thought. “But now that I’m here, how can I just sit and sew with the widow? I want to learn, Muirteach. Surely you can see that and not hold it against me?”
“And surely you can see that there’s a murderer running loose in town and a missing woman who has yet to be found! Think about what you’re doing, amadain!”
Calling my wife a fool did little to improve the tenor of our conversation. Mariota turned away from me, her back stiff, took her medical text and went over to the table. She sat down and began to read.
“Mariota, you must see reason about this. It isn’t safe!”
My wife did not answer and continued looking at her book. Through the wall I could hear the discordant sounds of Donald’s lute playing and I realized he had probably heard every word.
I tried another tack and lowered my voice. “Mo chridhe, it’s not that I’m angry with you.” This last statement may not have been entirely true.
“No?”
“Of course not. But you must see it isn’t safe.”
“But Muirteach, you are not being logical. I’m dressed as a lad, not a lass. So therefore, I should be quite safe from kidnappers of women.”
“Curse logic! Suppose you are found out.”
“I won’t be discovered.”
“But what if you are?”
“It is not against the law to dress in men’s garb.”
“But I am very well sure that to lie about your identity and falsely enroll in the university may well be against the law—or certainly against the statutes of the university!”
“Well, we shall see. But I am not intending to be discovered.”
“Mariota, I forbid it!”
“You cannot stop me, Muirteach. Do not even think of trying to.”
I judged it foolish to continue our conversation. With great effort, I shut my mouth tight and stalked out of the house, ignoring the anxious looks of Widow Tanner. I had it in mind to go into town and get very drunk at Master Jakeson’s tavern, but that made me think of the still-missing Jonetta and as I walked, I decided I did not wish to visit there. So I walked the short distance to Old Balliol Hall, thinking perhaps Master Berwyk had returned from the bookseller’s with news of his Isagoge. I entered the hall and went to the room Master Berwyk shared with Master Delacey and knocked.
The door opened and Master Delacey stuck a truculent face out.
“I’m seeking Master Berwyk. Is he within?”
“No. He’s not returned from town. He’s probably with that whore of his, Torvilda.”
“And where does she lodge?”
“I’ve no idea. Pennyfarthing Street, I think I’ve heard him say. Near St. Ebbe’s. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve studies to attend to.”
His tone irked me but I was in none too patient a mood after my conversation with my wife. “Well, when he returns, tell him I need to speak with him.”
Delacey perked his ears like a hound scenting prey. “Oh? And why would that be?”
“That is my affair, not yours.” With that I left him and stalked out of the hall. In the backlands I noticed Ivo tending some cabbages in the garden. I walked over to where he labored. The cabbages and leeks looked green and healthy and I surmised the scholars would be enjoying a great deal of them in the days to come.
“Ivo.”
The old man stood up and stretched his back. “Aye?”
“I wanted to ask you something. About the night Master Clarkson was murdered.”
“Aye?” The old man brushed the dirt from his hands. “I’ve already told you what I know.”
“You said you had locked the gates. But I was with Master Woode and when we returned to the college the gate was already locked.”
“Aye, it were. I heard him banging on it and roused myself up and let him in, then locked it up again, tight enough. No one else came in.”
“So it must have been someone from the college. Unless someone came in earlier and hid themselves. But then how did they leave?”
“Well, they weren’t getting out by the gate. That were well locked up.”
I looked at him. “You’ve worked here a long while.”
“All my life,” Ivo returned, “since I were a lad. But I told you that afore.”
“So you know the masters well.”
Ivo shrugged and scratched absent-mindedly through his tunic at a spot on his arm. “I’m but a servant.”
“Yes, but still you know the place.”
“Happen that I do.”
“Do you have any idea who might have done this thing? Do you know of anyone with a grudge against Master Clarkson?”
“He were a hard man. Strict-like. But them students need a strict hand. Young lads and such they are, always rowdy and carousing, not attending to their studies. They’d play ball back here and trample the cabbages with not a care for the garden, nor for them that works it.”
I nodded. “But are you thinking any of the scholars killed the master?”
Ivo shook his head. “I’ve no way of knowing that. I know he had words with that Phillip Woode. I heard them, so I did.”
I had heard them too. “Have you ever noticed Phillip Woode to have a bad temper? A violent disposition?”
Ivo shook his head again. “No, I never did. He’s a friend to many of the younger lads and likes his ale, but I’ve never known him to fight. He be a kind man, at least I’ve never seen him in a temper—except for the words I heard with the master.”
“And others? Who else might have a temper?”
Ivo stretched his back again and reached for his hoe. “That Master Delacey. He did fight and argue in years past. But not so much now as in former times. He’s on his dignity, he is now. Thinks he’s better than the others and wanted to be master of the college himself. But the other scholars voted for Clarkson.”
“Well, he studies the law, I believe.”
“So he does.”
“Your daughter mentioned you’d overheard Master Clarkson speaking to someone of heresy. When was that?”
“I were outside the hall, and I heard Clarkson’s voice through the window. He spoke loud enough, when he was out of humor. He just said something about not tolerating heresy here.”
“Did you hear who he was speaking with?”
“No, sir, just Master Clarkson. His voice carried when he were angered.”
That I knew; I’d heard him myself.
“Now, sir, I’d best get back to these greens. I know nothing to help you.”
Although Ivo had dismissed me, I did not leave but stood watching him hoe around his cabbages. “Those are fine plants.”
“Aye, they did well this year, they did.”
“Your little daughter. Avice is her name?”
“Aye?”
“She’s a fine girl. It must have been hard, raising her here. With all the young lads around, I mean.”
“She’s a good girl, my poppet. But it were hard, especially after my wife was took. She’s lacked a mother these past years. Still, she’s a good girl. I’ve no complaint of her.”
“The lads don’t bother her?”
“She’s still but a child and of modest temperament. No, they leave her well alone for the most part.”
“It’s happy I am to hear that. She’s a sweet lass.”
“Aye, so she is,” Ivo replied.
I left the old man bent over his greens and quit the college, thinking to find Torvilda’s lodging on Pennyfarthing Street. The sun was still somewhat high in the sky, and I reasoned I had some time before dusk. If Master Berwyk was not there, I might at least learn more about him from his woman. So for the second time that day I crossed through Northgate and entered the town proper.
Pennyfarthing Street was down the High Street, in a poorer section of town. The streets were narrower, the houses less well built, few of stone, most of wattle and daub or wood. Some of them looked to be collapsing one against the other as though they gained support only from their proximity to each other. Torvilda’s house, when I found it, was a bit nicer than some, a two-story dwelling made of wood with slate shingles on the roof. A tabby cat came running up to the door as I knocked and waited expectantly, rubbing back and forth against my legs.
At length the door opened, and the cat ran inside. A young woman picked it up, then turned to face me. She wore a green dress with a brown over-tunic, her hair modestly concealed by a linen wimple.
“Are you the Widow Torvilda?”
The woman let the cat go, then nodded and looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”
“I am Muirteach MacPhee.”
“A student, are you? I’ve no rooms to let at present.”
“No, I am not a student. I’m looking for Master Berwyk. I’m told he can often be found here.”
“Who told you that?”
“He did himself. Is he here? I’d like to speak with him.”
I heard Master Berwyk’s voice from inside the house. “Torvilda, sweet, who is it?”
The woman shut the door and through the wood I caught the murmur of voices. In a moment it opened again and I saw Master Berwyk and the woman standing together. Master Berwyk looked relaxed, but the woman still had a guarded look to her eyes, which I noticed were a lovely shade of green.
“Muirteach, it is good to see you,” Master Berwyk greeted me. “Torvilda, this is Muirteach. He is from the north, from Scotland, and has been helping the authorities with the sad killing of Master Clarkson. Muirteach, this is Mistress Torvilda Bonefey. You must excuse her welcome; it is seldom people seek me out here. How did you find the place?”
“Master Delacey said I might find you here, and told me Mistress Bonefey’s lodgings were on Pennyfarthing Street. For the rest of it, I asked directions. But how did it go with the bookseller? Were you able to redeem your Isagoge?”
“Perhaps in time it may be possible. But come inside, and we can speak in more comfort than here on the stoop.”
I was ushered inside to a main room, simply furnished but boasting a fireplace. The same tabby cat was ensconced in a low willow basket by the fire. I heard soft mewing sounds and a loud purr and realized the cat nursed kittens.
Mistress Bonefey bade me be seated, left the room, and returned shortly with a jug of ale and two leather mugs. Then she disappeared again, leaving us to our business.
“And so what happened at the bookseller’s?” I asked again, after taking a long sip of my ale.
“Master Bookman was at first not too forthcoming, but I examined the text and it is indeed my book. I showed him some notations I had made on it, and he finally began to believe me. But he refuses to let me take ownership without repaying the pledge.”
“And is it a large amount of money?”
Seven shillings was a goodly sum. “But he will hold it for you until you can gain the funds?”
“I believe he will. And I’m glad of that at least. I would hate to lose that book.”
“When did you lend the book to Clarkson?”
“It was some few weeks ago. And then when I pressed him to get it back, the man lied. He claimed to be not through reading it and asked to keep it a bit longer. It was not until you told me, after his death, that I discovered he had pledged it.” Berwyk shook his head in disbelief.
“So you did not go to his room to ask him for it that night, and discover it was gone, and hit the man in anger?”
“No. I knew nothing of its being absent until we looked through his texts that next day, Master Delacey and myself. Although I was angry enough, when I learned of it. But by that time the man was dead.”
“So you were not angry with him before?”
“Indeed I was angry,” Master Berwyk responded. “Angry he had not returned my book to me. But I did not know he had pledged it until after his death, and it was not I that killed the man.”
“As you say,” I returned.
“You must believe me, Muirteach.”
“Who can vouch for you that night?”
“You can ask Torvilda, as I said. And perhaps her lodgers may attest to it, should you not believe Torvilda’s words.”
“I shall do so,” I replied. “Who are the lodgers?”
“She has two. They are young students from the West Country. Their names are Justin Penwarred and Vortigen Penwryth. They saw me here that evening and will vouch for me should you not believe Torvilda.”
“Where might I find them?”