Free A Parliament of Spies by Cassandra Clark Page B

delaying a moment longer he ducked his head and made off into the rain.
     
    ‘Well liked. Is that all they’re saying about him?’ She had found Thomas in the cloisters with a prayer book in his hand.
    ‘A strong sense of right and wrong.’ Thomas sighed. ‘Also, too honest.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Too honest? How can a man be too honest?’
    ‘Too honest for his own good?’
    ‘Do you suspect him of knowing something he shouldn’t?’
    Hildegard gazed out across the cloister court. There was a stone well in the middle. The bucket on the parapet was brimming with rainwater. Above their heads water was jetting out of the mouths of the gargoyles as if it
would never end. On the far side of the yard the passage into the hall was busy with diners going in for the first sitting.
    ‘What sort of thing could a kitchener know?’
     
    News from Bishopthorpe, or rather the lack of it, dampened everyone’s spirits as if to mimic the weather. The archbishop’s retinue broke up into rival factions and their Lincoln hosts, with the knowledge that there was possibly a murderer among their guests, eyed them with growing resentment. Bishop Buckingham, like one oblivious to the darkening mood, presided late that afternoon over a succession of dishes produced by his own cooks and conversed at length with his illustrious guest. Neville frowned and looked glum and stared deeply into his goblet. As the shadows lengthened cressets were lit and placed in brackets along the wall. They cast a flickering smoky light that somehow only seemed to add to the gloom.
    Thomas was sitting at the end of one of the trestles, working his way through a pile of meat, it not being a fish day. ‘Edwin has made a list of everybody at Bishopthorpe,’ he told Hildegard. ‘By crossing off those the constables are dealing with and cross-referencing the others with the testimonies of those we’ve spoken to he’s been able to establish everybody’s movements and work out who has an alibi and who hasn’t. They all have. Until we get word from the gardeners, in case they saw something, it’s the best he can do.’
    ‘The usefulness of his approach depends on two things: the accuracy of people’s memories and their honesty.’

    Thomas wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘What about this Jarrold fellow?’ Hildegard had told him about the odd little scene in the cathedral. Now he was frowning. ‘He comes on like a villain in a Corpus Christi play. Too bad to be true.’
    ‘Several people say they saw him in the main courtyard that morning, helping load the wagons.’
    ‘I must say,’ Thomas continued, ‘it would take ingenuity to find the privacy to carry out a murder in somewhere like the palace. It’s always so busy. The brewhouse must have been the only empty place that morning.’
    ‘Does it mean the murderer simply took his chance?’
    ‘He was lucky, then.’
    ‘Or,’ she picked at her fish, ‘maybe he was unlucky?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Maybe he planned it expecting that if he waited until just before the convoy set off the body might go undiscovered for days?’
    ‘But then that mischievous little lad with his pig’s bladder got into the picture.’
    ‘If the murderer did plan the whole thing with such attention to detail, he must be a patient type, able to wait for the right moment to act.’
    ‘To plan so carefully, then kill in cold blood. Chilling.’
    ‘You can mix with these men more freely than I can, Thomas; who’s likely to be able to think like that?’
    He shook his head. ‘They’re mostly a bunch of ribalds with no thought for the morrow. Of course,’ he frowned, ‘the falconers have to have patience. They need it, in order to train their hawks.’
    ‘All accounted for?’

    ‘It seems so.’
    ‘Well, our man is the one with the cunning to plan ahead and the patience to bide his time.’
     
    News arrived while they were still dining. Due to some bungling by the custodian, the hostage