Free Mystery in the Minster by Susanna Gregory Page A

Bartholomew, aware of Cynric’s hand moving to grip another of his amulets. ‘But what would have happened if contagious fluids had seeped out of them?’
    ‘Matt is our University’s Corpse Examiner,’ said Michael, apparently feeling an explanation was required to accountfor the physician’s remarks. ‘He knows a lot about unnatural death.’
    ‘Your University’s what?’ asked Ellis warily, and Bartholomew winced. It was hardly a title to endear him to anyone, and while Cambridge was used to it, York was not, and it made him sound sinister.
    ‘It means he is skilled at working out who murdered whom,’ said Michael, wholly untruthfully. ‘So if there are clues here to tell us who attacked Sir William, he is sure to find them.’
    Alarm filled Ellis’s face. ‘Well do not look to us vicars. We were with you when it happened.’
    ‘Actually,
you
were not. You, Cave and Jafford had gone to fetch some documents.’
    Ellis waved the parchments he held, slyness taking the place of concern. ‘And here they are. I cannot have fetched them
and
shot William, so do not think to accuse me of the crime.’
    Bartholomew had no idea whether he was telling the truth, and judging by the guarded expressions on his colleagues’ faces, neither did they.
    ‘Thank you for agreeing to let us see them, Master Ellis,’ said Radeford, ever tactful. ‘But perhaps we could do it outside? It is too dark in here for reading.’
    He led the way to the door. Ellis, Michael and Cynric followed, leaving Bartholomew and Langelee behind. The Master began to look for more clues, while Bartholomew inspected the plague grave. His fears were borne out when he glimpsed the gleam of yellow-white near the bottom of the pile. It was a bone, pitted with marks which showed that rats had found it. Slowly, he walked around the mound’s base, pressing his sleeve against his nose to lessen the stench emanating from the pig. Right at the back was a bow, apparently tossed there in the confidentexpectation that no one was likely to venture into such an unpleasant place.
    ‘It is a town weapon,’ said Langelee, taking it from him. ‘One of those provided at the butts for apprentices. Clearly, someone took it from the sheds where they are stored, and it provides no kind of clue whatsoever, because anyone can take one to practise with on Mondays.’
    ‘But you say the arrow is distinctive?’ asked Bartholomew.
    Langelee smiled rather wolfishly. ‘Yes, it is.’
    When Langelee and Bartholomew emerged from the church, both grateful to be away from the foul smell and depressing gloom, they found Michael and Radeford talking in low voices, while Cynric hovered nearby. There was no sign of Ellis.
    ‘He has a letter Zouche wrote to a former sub-chanter, mentioning Huntington in a way that suggests he did originally intend the vicars to have it,’ said Michael un happily. ‘Although it pre-dates the plague.
And
he has a note from Cotyngham, acknowledging the vicars’ assurance that no move would be made on Huntington until he either died or resigned.’
    ‘The inference being that Cotyngham thought Huntington was going to them, too,’ added Radeford. Then he smiled. ‘But neither of these missives is the codicil, and although they are a setback to our cause, it is not one that is insurmountable, legally speaking.’
    ‘Perhaps we should accept Oustwyk’s offer of a counterfeiter,’ suggested Langelee, quite seriously. ‘It may be the only way to win.’
    ‘Absolutely not,’ said Radeford firmly. ‘I will not be party to anything dishonest, so please do not propose it again, Master. We shall acquire Huntington fairly, or not at all.’
    ‘But—’ began Langelee.
    ‘No,’ said Radeford, holding up a hand to stop him. ‘I have never won a case by cheating, and I am not about to start now. We shall conduct ourselves in an ethical manner, or I am going home.’
    Bartholomew nodded approval at Radeford’s stance, although Langelee and Michael