Free A Bone of Contention by Susanna Gregory

However smooth Ruthven was trying to be, the others were very much aware that their comrade was missing, and might even know why.
    'I can vouch for these young men,' said Father Andrew, waving his hand round at his charges. 'We have been here all day, and even took our meals here — despite the fact that Ivo, our scullion, has much still to learn about cooking. The students have not been out of the building at all. Robert of Stirling and James Kenzie are ill upstairs, and John is looking after them. The others are all here as you can see.'
    'What about last night?' said Michael. He looked at the four students who sat round the table. 'I think some of you know why we are asking. '
    Father Andrew's expression was one of confusion, and he looked at his students in bewilderment. 'Tell the Proctor you were all here,' he said, looking at each one in turn. When none of them spoke up, his shoulders sagged suddenly in weary resignation. 'What are you hiding?' he asked in a tone that indicated he would tolerate no lies or half-truths. 'What have you done this time to bring shame upon David's Hostel?'
    There was a silence during which the four looked from one to the other, knowing that they would have to tell what they knew, but none wanting to be the one to begin. Finally, Ruthven spoke.
    'James Kenzie is gone,' he said miserably.
    'James Kenzie is ill upstairs,' protested Father Andrew.
    'I saw him asleep in his bed only a short while ago.'
    'You saw his rolled up blankets,' said Ruthven apologetically to Father Andrew. Jamie is not here. He has gone.'
    'Gone where?' demanded Michael.
    'We do not know. We would have looked for him today, but we have been kept here studying. We did not wish to make a fuss and draw attention to the fact that he is absent, but now we are worried about him. We decided this afternoon that if he has not returned by nightfall, we would tell the Principal and Father Andrew.'
    'Why wait?' asked Michael, unconvinced. 'Surely it would be better to tell them sooner, rather than later, if you are worried about your friend?'
    Ruthven looked away, chewing on his lower lip in agitation.
    Davy Grahame took a deep breath. 'Jamie has a woman,' he blurted out.
    Father Andrew's jaw dropped in shock, and he regarded Davy Grahame aghast.
    'Davy!' exclaimed Fyvie, starting to his feet. 'You did not have to tell them that!'
    'Yes, I did,' said the younger Grahame, his firm tone of voice forcing Fyvie to sit again. 'I am worried.
    Supposing those two friars came across him last night and had him harmed? The Proctor might be able to help him.' He turned to Michael. 'Jamie has had a lover since last term. He occasionally slips out before the door is locked at night, and one of us makes up his bed to look as though it is occupied. He then joins us at mass at first light, and walks back with us to the hostel. Last night, it was more difficult than usual, because Father Andrew was with us constantly after he learned of our quarrel in the street yesterday.
    Anyway, Jamie feigned illness and said he was going to bed early. He must have slipped out while we were eating our supper. But this morning he did not appear at mass, and we have not seen him since. Do you know where he is?'
    The others looked eagerly at Michael, and Bartholomew did not envy the fat monk his next task.
    'I am afraid I do,' said Michael quietly. 'He is in St Botolph's Church.'
    'St Botolph's?' echoed Fyvie, puzzled. 'What is he doing there?'
    'Then why does he not come back?' demanded Stuart Grahame belligerently. 'We have been worried sick about him all day. He must surely know that! Why has he not sent word?'
    'He will not be coming back,' said Michael, trying to be gentle.
    Fyvie and Ruthven stared at him in disbelief, while Davy Grahame, quicker on the uptake than his elders, brought his hands quickly to his mouth in shock. Father Andrew's face was pale as the meaning of Michael's words became clear to him.
    'Not coming back?' said Stuart Grahame. 'Why ever