Free A Vein of Deceit by Susanna Gregory Page B

no indisputable evidence to link him with the crime – and certainly none convincingenough to allow a search of his house. Bartholomew doubted the monk would find anything anyway: too much time had passed,
     and the chalices would either be hidden in a safe place, or sold.
    ‘It is hopeless,’ said Michael despairingly, when he and the physician met in the hall for the noonday meal. ‘Constable Muschett,
     the Mayor and all the burgesses joined together and expressly forbade me to investigate – they do not usually tell the University
     what to do, but it is different this time. They are presenting a united front because they still resent the fine they were
     obliged to pay the last time Cambridge tackled Gosse. I wish to God Dick Tulyet were here.’
    ‘It
is
a pity the Sheriff is away,’ agreed Bartholomew. ‘But being angry will not bring our chalices back. It is better to devise
     a way to prevent Gosse from burgling anyone else.’
    ‘How can I, when I have been ordered to stay away from him?’ shouted Michael, banging a plump fist on the table in frustration.
     Several students eased away, not wanting to be close when the Senior Proctor was in a temper. ‘Well, all I can say is that
     I hope he robs these cowardly officials, because then they might feel differently. Of course, Gosse is too clever for that
     – he knows who is protecting him, and chooses his victims with care.’
    ‘The Blood Relic debate is a week on Monday,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Virtually every scholar in the University will be there –
     we have been looking forward to it for weeks now.’
    ‘So?’ snapped Michael. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’
    ‘It will mean a lot of empty Colleges and hostels,’ explained Bartholomew patiently. ‘And if Gosse invaded Michaelhouse when
     everyone was out, then—’
    ‘Then he will almost certainly be planning something for then,’ finished Michael. His eyes gleamed, and some of the fury went
     out of him. ‘You are right! And I shall be ready for him. Thank you, Matt. You have made me feel considerably better, good
     physician that you are.’
    Because it was Saturday, Bartholomew could finish teaching early, so he set his students some astrological calculations to
     keep them occupied and out of trouble, then went to visit his sister. Although he did not believe in the power of horoscopes,
     he still taught his pupils how to calculate them: they would not pass their disputations if he ignored that part of the curriculum,
     and he had no desire to be accused of corrupting their minds with unorthodox theories.
    He found Edith making preserves in the kitchen, and the sweet scent of fruit filled the house – apples and plums from the
     garden, and the last of the blackberries from the hedgerows.
    ‘The harvest was dismal this year,’ said Edith, wiping her face with the back of her hand. It was hot in the room, with several
     huge pots bubbling furiously over the fire. ‘I usually make three times this amount – half for us, and half for Yolande de
     Blaston’s brood. They will be disappointed.’
    ‘I thought you would have gone back to Trumpington by now,’ said Bartholomew. He had been in the process of stealing an apple
     from one of the jars, but her words stopped him: he had no wish to deprive Yolande’s children.
    ‘You mean after what happened to Joan?’ Edith gave a wan smile. ‘I considered it, but Trumpington is lonely without Oswald,
     and I will only dwell on what happened. I am better off here.’
    ‘I am sorry I could not help Joan.’
    ‘You did your best. That priest never did appear, by the way.’
    Bartholomew gazed at her blankly. ‘What priest?’
    ‘The one she came here with – Neubold. We sent for him to give her last rites, but he never arrived. I made enquiries at the
     Brazen George, where he was lodging, but the landlord said he has not been back to his room since the night Joan died, although
     he paid for it until the end of the