“Perhaps she met him there, as it was little traveled.”
“Perhaps,” said Phillip, but he sounded unconvinced.
“Or perhaps it is not the same necklace at all.”
“It was unusual,” Phillip protested. “I am certain it was the same pendant.”
“Well, perhaps when Avice returns we can borrow the pendant from her and show it to Master Jakeson. Surely he or his wife will recognize it, if it was their daughter’s. Now, what was it you wished to tell me?”
“Oh. The day we were attacked in town, Berwyk was the last to seek shelter in the chapel.”
“Yes.”
“And I saw Bookman, close on his heels as we slammed the door shut.”
“So he could well have knifed Berwyk before he entered the chapel.”
“Indeed, he must have.”
“Yet he swears he did not do it,” I mused, although the Isagoge tied the two deaths together.
Who else had been in the chapel? Phillip Woode, Eusebius and Delacey. Had one of them knifed Berwyk? But for what reason? Berwyk was popular with the younger students. Had one of the other masters—Delacey, perhaps—been jealous? Or even Woode? I looked at him suspiciously, but Phillip only frowned a little back at me, his brown eyes concerned. He did not look like a guilty man.
“I am sure it was Jonetta’s necklace,” he insisted.
“Why are you so certain?” I asked him.
“Because it was I who gave it to her.”
CHAPTER 16
* * *
“You?”
“Aye. I journeyed once to Canterbury and purchased it there. At the shrine of Saint Thomas the Martyr. A little enough thing, paltry really, but pretty I thought. And I could afford it for her. If I could have,” Phillip continued, “I’d have bought her gold and jewels.”
“How well did you know Jonetta?” I demanded.
“I know—knew—the lass well. I’d have married her, if she’d have waited for me. Instead of fleeing town with that chapman. Although I’ve never seen the man with her. You’d think I’d have noticed him, there at the tavern.”
“Did Jonetta encourage your attentions?”
“Indeed, I thought she did. That is why it surprised me so when she ran off.”
“Aye,” I said. “It surprised her parents as well.”
Phillip turned to me, his face intent. I felt pressure and winced a little as he grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh in his excitement. “Muirteach, what if Jonetta didn’t leave with the chapman after all? What if something else happened to her?”
“Such as what?”
“She could have been slain. Or abducted.”
“It’s true there’s been no sign of either Jonetta or the chapman. Grymbaud says that in the towns where he’s inquired, no one’s seen them. And the arrival of a chapman is an event in a small village. It is odd,” I said slowly.
“What of the outbuildings? Out there, behind the vintner’s? Past the Benedictines? Were they searched?”
“We can ask the undersheriff.”
“Muirteach, what if her body is lying there, undiscovered and unshriven? We must go and speak with Grymbaud this very night.”
“There’s something I must see to at my lodgings first, Phillip.” It was true that perhaps not every building in the town had been searched door to door after Jonetta’s disappearance. But I had problems of my own. “It’s growing dark now. I’ll speak to Grymbaud tomorrow. Tomorrow we can search the backlands. His men can help with that.”
“Indeed, Muirteach. Tomorrow, then. That will have to do.” Phillip turned away, disgusted, I thought, at my lack of response as we neared Widow Tanner’s.
I entered the front door, my heart pounding like a drum. I saw no sign of Mariota. I began to feel nauseated and my mouth went dry again. “Mo chridhe,” I called, but got no answer.
The widow emerged from a back room and looked anxiously at me. She held a wet rag.
“Widow Tanner, have you seen my wife?”
“Eh, no, sir, not since this morning.”
“She hasn’t returned at all?’
“No, sir,” the widow repeated. “I thought her to be with you.”
The anxiety I felt exploded into molten rage. “You colluded with her, woman, and now she’s disappeared,” I shouted. “She never came back this morning. She never showed at Berwyk’s funeral mass. She was to meet me there, you foolish old gossip. And there’s a murderer loose in the streets of the town.”
Widow Tanner’s face went pale. Though that did not stop my tirade. “We’ve searched the town and found not a trace of her.”
“Oh, sir, surely she’s safe.”
“Safe where? Do you see her? Is she here safe?”
Widow Tanner replied with some spirit. “Sir, I know your wife, somewhat. She would not take risks.”
“Aye, I know,” I ranted. “No risk more than dressing as a man and sneaking into university lectures, as headstrong as any undergraduate. I know she would not take risks. And that is why I am so worried.”
Widow Tanner twisted the rag in her hands.
“She would not take risks,” I repeated, catching my breath and speaking in a somewhat quieter tone. “So something must have happened.”
“Where have you searched?”
“Donald and I searched all the lecture halls this morning. The booksellers. The taverns.”
“What of the other lodging halls?’
“Not door to door,” I admitted.
“Well, you might look there. Perhaps she was taken ill and carried to one.” The widow stopped and thought. “You cannot cover the entire city, just you and Donald. You need more men. You must tell the undersheriff. He is a good man. His men will help you search.”
“Yes.” It seemed Mariota’s scheme would now come into the open. What that would mean I did not know, but I knew I needed help to find her in this city now. I turned on my heels and left the widow’s house, setting out for Oxford Castle to find Undersheriff Grymbaud.
It was full dark now, but Donald and I saw Avice and Anthony just leaving the castle gates. “Were you able to see your father, lass?” I asked.
“Aye.” Avice ducked her rabbity face down and seemed unwilling to say more.
“Old Ivo was right glad to see her,” Anthony put in. “He said he would rest easy tonight, knowing she was safe.”
“Good enough then,” I said, thinking all the while that I too would rest much easier if I knew Mariota was safe. “Anthony, you’ll see the lass home safe to Widow Tanner’s?”
Anthony stood a little straighter, proudly nodded assent, and they went on their way. Donald and I passed through the gates and into Oxford Castle. We found the undersheriff conferring with some townsfolk, who exited with serious expressions on their faces as we entered his office.
“Oh, Muirteach.” Grymbaud’s face lightened a little as he saw me. “Any news, then?”
“No, and I’ve a problem of my own.” I told the undersheriff of my missing wife and his expression hardened as he listened.
“She was dressed as a boy?”
“Aye, going by the name of William of Uist.”
“Women.” Grymbaud spat on the floor. “They cause all type of problems, when they don’t keep to the place God ordained for them.”
“My wife is somewhat headstrong,” I admitted angrily, “but she is a good healer. It does not surprise me she wanted to attend the lectures.”
“Well, would that her disappearance were the university’s problem then, and not mine,” the undersheriff groused. “But although she posed as a clerk, she is not one. No, no, Muirteach, do not leave. It falls to me. She is a good woman, and was of great help with that Berwyk affair. I’ll send some men to help you search. We can begin to check the lodging tenements now. I’ll send for torches. Best, perhaps, to start near School Street and fan out from there.”
Grymbaud gave his orders and it was not too long before some ten of his men assembled. We set out into
the darkness, toward School Street. The moon had not yet risen and the side streets were quiet and dark, our torches flickering over our faces and briefly illuminating those of the few people we passed. As we neared High Street we could see the taverns were busy, although the streets were almost as dark.
Grymbaud sent men to check the taverns, splitting our party into several smaller ones in order to search more quickly. Donald accompanied another party, but Grymbaud and I entered The Green Man. The tavern smelled of ale, wine and smoke from the hearth and bustled with the clamor of thirsty citizens. Master Jakeson approached and we told him of our search. He responded sympathetically, but asked us not to tell his wife, who was busy in the kitchens. He feared the news of yet another missing woman would upset her. Some students were dicing at a back table, but no one there looked familiar and I saw no sign of my wife. It was the same in all the other taverns we tried.
The lecture halls on School Street were locked up for the night, but there were student tenements on that narrow street as well, and we began the slow task of going door to door, rousing students from their evening pastimes. A few we actually found studying, but we did not find William of Uist.
The night grew later and even the taverns began to empty out. We shone our torches in the faces of the revelers straggling back to their rooms, but still found nothing. The torches burned lower and finally Grymbaud took me aside. “We’ve found nothing, Muirteach. It’s late. The torches have burned out. We must stop for the night.”
A dark shadow of what I hoped was a cat crossed the alley, on some nocturnal mission of its own. I heard the skittering of what sounded like rats in the gutter and listened for a moment before I replied.
“Come, Muirteach, the men are exhausted. We can start again in the morning, after a little rest.”
Donald stumbled over and gave a huge yawn.
“You all can go home,” I declared stubbornly, ignoring my own gritty eyes and weariness, intent only on my consuming need to find my wife. “I must keep searching for her.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Donald volunteered. “Perhaps we’ll find something. And it won’t be too long until students start heading for the morning lectures. They start early.”
“Perhaps we could see who attends Rudolfo’s lectures and ask among them. Someone there might have information.”
“That’s wise, Muirteach,” Grymbaud put in. “But I think you’ll make more sense of the search if you were to sleep for an hour or two now. That one,” and he glanced at Donald, “looks like he needs sleep, even if you do not.”
Donald yawned again. “I am happy to stay with you and keep searching,” he insisted.
Finally, I gave in and went with Donald back to Widow Tanner’s. The kitten was curled up on the bed, but it moved aside a bit when I came in. I thought sleep would not come but my eyes closed as soon as my head hit the bedding, and I unwillingly collapsed into a few hours of disordered slumber.
I awoke with the feeling I had forgotten something. My dream faded, a worrisome dream in which I ransacked piles of parchment, looking for something important I had lost. My heart pounded with anxiety as I searched the towering piles of parchment, all written in some indecipherable text.
I slowly came back to myself and realized it had been only the imaginings of sleep. The kitten still slept, and the moon shone in through the cracks in the wooden shutters. Then I realized where I was, and that Mariota was not there, and my heart began racing again in panic. Mariota had been missing for nearly a day now.
I tried to force my breath to come more slowly and to think rationally. We were to search again today, to ask the students in Master Rudolfo’s class if they had seen anything of William of Uist. And it was time we were on our way. The morning lectures started early.
I roused Donald and after a quick drink of small ale from the widow’s pantry we took a lantern and made our way through the quiet streets of early morning into the town toward School Street. A sliver of moon was just setting in the west, while to the east the sky began to lighten, but Oxford was beginning to stir. I smelled smoke as cooking fires were kindled and heard the bang of shutters and doors as townsfolk opened their upper windows, merchants readied themselves for the business of the day, and sleepy students made their way to class.
We made our way to the hall where Master Rudolfo gave his lectures. I did not see Brother Eusebius this morning, but many other students were jostling each other as they went inside and took their seats on the wooden benches. I spoke to Master Rudolfo and he gave me permission to address the students. There were some hushed murmurs among the clerks as I told them of the missing “William of Uist” and asked anyone with information on the lad to send word to myself or to Donald. One of the students, a tall, brown-haired lad, stood quietly and left his place on the benches to speak with us.
I felt that funny tightness in my chest again as I waited for the boy to begin. He introduced himself as James Heresward, from Suffolk. He was a gentle-spoken lad, with a grave countenance, and lodged at some tenements on Canditch. “I believe I saw the lad you seek after the lectures, walking toward Smithgate. I was walking that way, heading home to break my fast,” he said. “I tried to speak with the boy, but he is very shy. He passed me and kept walking.” James shrugged his shoulders. “That is all I know. I’m sorry not to be of more help.”
“Did you see anyone else?” I asked, rubbing my gritty eyes.
“The streets are crowded at that time of the morning,” James returned. “There were many folk about but when I left him, the lad was still walking alone, down Canditch.”
“And you’d swear to this?” I demanded.
“Of course. Why do you doubt my word?” he responded with some annoyance.
I thanked him and apologized for my churlishness. Then we left.
“So,” Donald commented as we walked along crowded High Street, “we know Mariota nearly reached home yesterday. But what could have happened to her? How could she have disappeared so near to our lodgings?”
“I can think of many things that might have happened to her,” I said darkly, “and none of them are good.” I waited impatiently while Donald stopped at a newly opened baker’s stall for a fresh bun. The normally appetizing scent of fresh bread did nothing for me. I had no desire for food; the thought of it made my stomach turn. Finally, Donald paid for his purchase and we continued toward Widow Tanner’s. We had just passed Northgate and were starting down Canditch when I saw Phillip Woode hurrying down the street.
“Muirteach,” he called, then quieted as he came closer “Good God, man, what is wrong? You look terrible.”
“It’s my wife,” I told him. “She’s disappeared.”
“God, no. Like Jonetta.”
“No, not like Jonetta!” I practically screamed at him. “Jonetta ran off with a chapman. My wife was last seen here, not thirty yards from our lodgings, in bright morning light. And yet she’s vanished.”
“As Jonetta did. Don’t you recall we were to search for her today? With the undersheriff’s men?”
I had forgotten our conversation of the day before. But the backlands were as good a place to search as any. I walked with Phillip back to Grymbaud’s headquarters in the castle. He and his men had just finished breaking their fast on small ale and bread. The undersheriff did not look overjoyed to see Phillip Woode but he listened to Phillip’s story and, after hearing of the silver pendant Anthony had found and Phillip’s assertion that it was the one he had given to Jonetta, agreed to send additional men, led by his man Ralf, to search the outskirts with us.
CHAPTER 17
* * *
The search was thorough. The noxious vats at the Widow’s tannery were probed and the vintner’s wine casks thumped. A few kegs were tapped and sampled, Master Gibbes’s protests notwithstanding, and all the outbuildings searched. We searched the Benedictines’ college and then we moved across the street to the Austin Friars. Ralf and his men knocked on the wooden door in the stone wall that surrounded
the establishment.
“We’re seeking information on the whereabouts of two young women, lately missing,” Ralf said.
“Two young women?” the Hospitaller echoed, a thin elderly man with concerned brown eyes. “I’d heard one girl from the town had disappeared. Now you say there’s another?”
“Aye,” Ralf responded grimly. “The second woman disappeared but yesterday.”
“She’s fair,” I interjected, “with light hair and blue eyes. She was dressed as a lad, wearing a blue tunic with a hood.”
“Dressed as a lad?” the Hospitaller repeated. I fumed at his slowness. “We had heard of the first disappearance and the troubles in the town. The slayings. But now you say another woman has vanished. This is a bad business.”
“Indeed,” Grymbaud’s assistant said, “and a medal belonging to the first girl, Master Jakeson’s daughter, was found on the road outside.”
The Hospitaller’s eyes widened.
“And so we are searching all the area here. Have you seen or heard aught suspicious?”
“No.” The friar shook his head. “We keep the door barred and see little of the outside world, as a rule. Although, of course, some of our friars are active in the university. They come and go into the town, so of course we knew of the trouble. But there are no women within these walls, you can be sure of that.”
I had spent time in an Augustinian priory as a young boy. That sect is not as cloistered as some others, and I could well imagine some of the canons teaching in the universities.
“Still, we must search,” Ralf insisted, obdurate.
The Hospitaller shrugged. “Come inside. I will call the Prior.”
The prior was concerned and although he protested we would find nothing he let us search without further demur.
We found nothing untoward in the place. No hidden women, no trace of anything, except an austere friars’ dormitory and a few rooms not so austere. At the end of the dormitory was a fine library. We thanked the Austin Friars and left them to their devotions and their studies.
Study of Murder, The (Five Star Mystery Series) Page 17