The Tarnished Chalice by Susanna Gregory

Author:Susanna Gregory [Gregory, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9780748124480
Google: 0dEAIBoJl_8C
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2010-12-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

The mist seemed thicker than ever as Bartholomew and Michael left the Gilbertine Priory and began to walk to the cathedral for High Mass. It encased them in a cocoon of grey-white, so they could not even make out the churches and houses to either side of the road, and fine droplets clung to their clothes and hair. Bartholomew could taste the fog in his mouth, touched with a hint of wood-smoke, although it was missing the malodorous taint of the marshes he had grown used to in Cambridge. Michael was reviewing what they had learned about the chalice and its travels, but the physician’s mind was fixed on the various diseases and ailments that might be carried in such a miasma. It was a long time since he had lost himself in a reflection of medical matters; mostly, he thought about Matilde in his free moments.

They reached the Cathedral Close, where the bells were pealing, announcing that Bishop Gynewell had arrived and was ready to begin the sacred rite. Michael went to his place in the chancel, and Bartholomew stood in the nave to listen to the singing. That day, the music was sporadic in quality and volume, and he saw why when he noticed that a number of those supposed to be taking part in the ceremony were actually wandering about on business of their own. Tetford was with Master Quarrel of the Swan and money was changing hands – Michael’s Vicar Choral was laying in supplies for his tavern. Tetford saw the physician watching and turned away.

Young Hugh, cherubic in his gown and golden curls, was racing up and down the aisles with several friends, chased by a flustered-looking man who was evidently the choirmaster. The boys considered it fine sport until Dame Eleanor, abandoning her customary spot at the Head Shrine, beckoned them towards her. She spoke a few quiet words that had them hanging their heads in shame before traipsing obediently towards their exasperated teacher. Hugh lingered uncertainly, so she added something that made him grin, then sent him after his cronies. Bartholomew saw Claypole observing the episode with a malicious smile, hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Nicholas Bautre was made choirmaster two years ago,’ he said when the physician approached. ‘He is worthless, and I should never have been dismissed in his favour.’

‘You were dismissed?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Why?’

Claypole looked sullen. ‘I lost my clothes and all my vestments at the gaming table. It was my own fault – I should have chosen the white stones over the black. Dean Bresley decided to make an example of me, and had Bautre appointed in my place. It has been disastrous for the cathedral, because Bautre cannot even get the boys to stay put during the mass, let alone teach them music.’

‘They have a poor example in the adults,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Not many clergy are in their places, either. They are either in the nave doing secular business, or they have not bothered to come at all.

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