The Hand of Justice by Susanna Gregory

Author:Susanna Gregory [Gregory, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Detective, Historical
ISBN: 9780748124466
Publisher: Hachette Digital; Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2004-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

‘We should visit the King’s Mill again,’ said Michael two days later, when Saturday morning’s teaching was done and the Fellows were enjoying a cup of cheap wine and a plate of stale oatcakes in the conclave. The monk was depressed and worried – both about the lack of progress in his investigation, and about the continuing decline in College food. ‘I need to see what it looks like when it is working, and I want to ask Bernarde more about what he knows of the two men who died so horribly among the grinding mechanisms he operates. He is my last hope – I cannot think of anything else to do that might throw light on this matter.’

‘Did you ask Pulham about what Master Thorpe told us?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘About the Mortimers promising hefty donations, if Gonville can make the Commission find in their favour?’

‘Not yet,’ replied Michael shortly. ‘The Bishop of Ely summoned most of the Gonville Fellows to see him on Thursday afternoon – something about the deeds to a property Bateman did not properly transfer to them before he died. But I will catch them as soon as they return.’

‘Bottisham deserves to have his name cleared of the unpleasant rumours that are circulating around the town – that he killed Deschalers,’ said Father William, making Michael wince. It sounded like an accusation of incompetence. ‘The townsfolk’s anger against us is palpable when they come to visit the Hand. You should do all you can to prove him innocent, Brother.’

‘He is working as hard as he can,’ said Bartholomew sharply. ‘I have never seen a case where there are so few clues, and he is doing his best. He has barely rested since this started.’

‘I have barely eaten, either,’ added the monk in a plaintive voice, obviously considering this far more serious. ‘Will you come with me to the mill, Matt? Now?’

‘You should not have discredited the Hand with such relish on Thursday, Bartholomew,’ admonished Langelee, as the physician reached for his cloak. ‘It might bring the University a great deal of money, and it does not look good when our own scholars scoff at its powers.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said William, pouring himself a third cup of wine, despite the fact that there was not much left and neither Kenyngham nor Wynewyk had yet had any. ‘And you telling folk it is a fake does nothing for my status as Keeper of the University Chest, either.’

Bartholomew bit back a retort that told the sanctimonious friar exactly what he could do with his reputation. ‘The Hand is not sacred. It came from Peterkin Starre, who drooled over his food, had the mind of a five-year old and was frightened of the dark.’

‘Great wisdom often springs from the mouths of the simple,’ preached Suttone piously. ‘If we had listened to Peterkin, then perhaps the Death would not have visited us in all its terrible glory.’

‘If we had listened to Peterkin, then we would have been making mud pies in the gutters and singing our favourite lullabies when the plague came,’ said Bartholomew caustically.

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