A Killer in Winter (54 page)

‘So, that was why Turke and Fiscurtune were such bitter enemies, and why they did all they could to harm each other’s businesses.
Turke did not kill Fiscurtune in a fit of sudden rage, but after years of seething resentment and guilt.’

‘Turke paid us for saying nothing,’ said Ailred bitterly. ‘He bought our silence. All I can claim in my defence is that all
my share went straight to Ovyng.’

And the loss of Ailred’s ‘share’ after Turke’s death was another reason why Ovyng was so suddenly plunged into poverty, Bartholomew
thought. It was not just the fees the Tulyets paid for Norbert that were gone, but the money Turke provided, too. Meanwhile,
all Ovyng’s savings had been spent to help Dunstan.

‘I suppose, when you heard Turke killed your brother as well as your sister, you decided you had remained mute for long enough,
and it was time to dispense justice,’ he said.

‘I knew John could be difficult, and I wanted to hear Turke’s side of the story. But Turke would only say the pilgrimage would
wipe out all his debts – including the one
owed to Isabella – and he would no longer pay to keep details of her death silent. I was angry that he felt he could murder
my sister
and
my brother, and treat me so harshly, yet still expect to become Lord Mayor.’

‘So, you killed him?’

Ailred coughed weakly. ‘I had not intended to. Frith and I saw him hurrying towards the Mill Pool one day and we followed
him. He was looking for the knife that killed Norbert – he was quite open about the fact that he had murdered my student –
and even offered Frith a shilling if he would risk his own life to hunt for it. We did not plan to kill him, but once he was
here, at the Mill Pool, it seemed the right thing to do. I suppose Stanmore’s apprentice told you how Frith and I encouraged
Turke to cross the river, and how we delayed taking him home when prompt action would have allowed him to live.’

‘You knew Harold was watching?’

‘I did; Frith did not. Frith dislikes loose ends, and I did not want the boy to come to harm.’

‘Unlike Turke,’ said Bartholomew. ‘You gave him cheap skates and did not even let him tie them correctly.’

‘It was more of a chance than he gave Isabella and John,’ snapped Ailred, anger giving his voice a strength that had not been
there before. ‘Do not come any closer, Matthew. The ice is very thin near me. You will fall in and we shall both be swept
to our deaths.’

‘I will throw you a rope. Tie it around yourself and we will drag you out.’ Bartholomew uncoiled the twine and hurled it as
hard as he could, but it was short by the length of a man. He gathered it in, and began to inch forward again.

‘No!’ said Ailred, agitated. ‘Stay where you are. I do not want your death on my conscience, too.’

‘Why was Turke searching for the knife that killed Norbert?’ asked Bartholomew, thinking that if Ailred talked, he might calm
down. The friar’s movements had caused more of the ice to crack, and it was becoming less safe with every passing moment.

‘Because it was evidence against him,’ said Ailred. ‘It was a dagger he had borrowed from his servant, and it would have led
you to him as Norbert’s killer.’

‘So,
Turke
killed Norbert after all,’ said Bartholomew, recalling that he had dismissed the fishmonger as a suspect for the killing
because there was no apparent motive for the wealthy merchant to slay the indolent student. ‘I thought it was Frith.’

Ailred’s voice was so soft it was difficult to hear. The physician inched forward a little more, and felt the ice begin to
bend. He stopped in alarm.

‘I sent Norbert several notes in Dympna’s name,’ Ailred was saying. ‘I lied about that, too, I am afraid. Frith tried to force
Norbert to pay me back, but it was Turke who murdered him. You should have known that; Turke was a natural killer. If you
need evidence, look for bloodstains on his sleeve. His wife must have seen them, but perhaps she thought they were left from
when he murdered John.’

‘But
why
did Turke kill Norbert?’ pressed Bartholomew, seeing the friar slip further into the water. He was weakening fast, and the
physician saw he did not have much time left.

‘Turke would not give us the details, but I was under the impression that Norbert overheard him making some insalubrious business
arrangement and threatened to blackmail him. So, Turke stabbed Norbert, then hit him with a rock. Poor Norbert did not deserve
to die in such a manner, even though he was dissolute and selfish. Now do you see why I so badly wanted you to catch Norbert’s
killer? The culprit was the one man in the world whom I truly despised.’

‘Frith had no hand in Norbert’s death?’

‘None.’

‘But it was Frith who pushed me and grabbed the salted fish?’

Ailred sighed. ‘I think so. I cannot prove it, but I think my nephew met Turke here, in the middle of the night, and begged
him to continue the payments for my hostel. I think he probably witnessed the murder, which is why he denied
any knowledge of it to you. He does not want to be charged as an accessory to such a crime.’

‘Did you really think you would get away with it?’ Bartholomew felt the ice stabilise and began to move forward once more.
‘Murdering Turke and Gosslinge?’

‘No one killed Gosslinge. He managed to acquire one of the notes we sent to Norbert. Norbert was careless, so I imagine he
threw the message in the street, where Gosslinge picked it up. Gosslinge must have asked Turke to it read it to him, then
decided to hide in St Michael’s Church to see what would happen. Those rotten albs are an excellent place to lurk unseen.’

‘How do you know all this? Were you there?’

Ailred nodded feebly. ‘Standing behind a pillar, so Norbert would not see
me
. But Frith and I discovered Gosslinge’s presence long before Norbert arrived. Gosslinge was a noisy breather and we heard
him. Frith demanded the note back. Gosslinge claimed this was not the first time he had watched, and said he had already told
Turke about my muddle with Dympna. He maintained it was one of the reasons why Turke had decided not to pay me any more –
because he knew something bad about me, just as I knew about the vile death of Isabella.’

‘So, Gosslinge was spying for Turke,’ mused Bartholomew. He recalled Harysone mentioning that Gosslinge had smelled of mould.
The pardoner had been right: the servant had spent more than one evening hiding among the decaying robes in order to watch
clandestine meetings in St Michael’s.

‘Turke used Gosslinge for underhand acts,’ said Ailred. ‘It was why Gosslinge held such a unique position in his household.
Turke did not like the man, but he was useful.’

‘Did Turke relieve him of his thumb?’

Ailred was surprised. ‘I understood he lost it to the King’s justices for stealing. But to go back to the church, Frith demanded
the note from Gosslinge. Gosslinge looked him in the eye and ate it. Then he choked. We did our best, and Frith even broke
one of the man’s teeth trying to pull the
thing from his throat, but it was all to no avail. It was a horrible thing to watch.’ He closed his eyes.

Ailred’s account tallied with Frith’s, and explained why Gosslinge’s mouth was damaged. Gosslinge’s fingernail must have been
torn in his death throes. Although bruised lips and broken teeth were usually indications that someone had been deliberately
suffocated, in this case they had been the result of clumsy attempts to save him. Bartholomew was inclined to accept that
Frith had been telling the truth after all – about this particular incident, at least. No one had killed Gosslinge.

‘What else did Frith tell you?’ Bartholomew could see that Ailred was beginning to lose consciousness, and sensed it would
not be long before he relinquished his hold on the ice. And then there would be nothing anyone could do to save him. The friar
had to be kept alert. ‘Come on, Father! Speak to me!’

‘Gosslinge was wearing his livery, but Frith said it was a pity to waste good clothes when such items are expensive. He took
them, then replaced Gosslinge among the albs in exactly the same way in which we had found him. He hoped you would see what
had really happened – that Gosslinge had choked on something he was trying to keep for himself, and that he had been spying.
But you misunderstood and misdiagnosed everything.’

‘The change of clothes did not help,’ said Bartholomew defensively, hurling the rope. He did not want to hear again how he
had failed everyone with his careless examination of Gosslinge. Ailred reached for the twine, but it was still too short.
The ice under Bartholomew bowed more than ever, and he saw part of it disappear under the black water in front of him.

‘Go back,’ ordered Ailred. ‘I do not want to be rescued.’

‘You might have mentioned that before I started,’ said Bartholomew,
throwing the rope again. This time, it reached the hole where Ailred floated. The friar did not touch it.

‘I want to die,’ he said quietly. ‘That was my intention
when I began to skate on ice that I knew was too thin. I have spent the past few days meditating on all that has happened,
and it seems fitting that I should die in the same way as Turke and my sister. I have gone too far along a dark road, and
all I want to do is atone for my mistakes. I was confused when I came to the surface again and allowed my fear to deter me
from the course I had chosen. Go back. You have done all you can.’

‘I can save you,’ said Bartholomew urgently. ‘Although I hate to admit it there is very little solid evidence against you,
if you recant your confession to Turke’s murder.’

The friar gave a grim smile. ‘I know. And that is why you will allow my nephew and his friends to go free. But I do not want
to live. I was a good man, but I do not like what I have become. So, go away, and leave me in peace.’

‘But I can almost reach you,’ objected Bartholomew, starting to move forward again.

The friar gave a smile that was unreadable, before lifting his arms above his head. The current immediately snatched him and
his head disappeared from view. Bartholomew glimpsed his face, distorted with anguish, as it passed under the transparent
ice below, and thumped the surface hard with his fists, trying to smash it and grab the man. But the current was too strong,
and Ailred was gone.

Within moments, Bartholomew realised that striking the ice with such force had not been a wise thing to do. It started to
crack, tiny zigzags spreading around him in all directions with a noise like close thunder. The planks on which he lay were
suddenly on the move, and Bartholomew saw the black water of Ailred’s hole rushing towards him. He was certain he was about
to suffer the same fate as the friar, but the shocking cold never came. He felt hands hauling him to safety, and realised
Cynric and Michael had tugged the wood free, with him on it. For a long time, he stared at the opaque surface of the Mill
Pool, hoping that Ailred was not still struggling underneath it.

* * *

‘You and Ailred had a lot to say to each other,’ said Michael, rubbing his hands vigorously as he watched people disperse
from the Mill Pool now that the excitement was over. The physician supposed he should feel satisfied – he finally had answers
to the questions that had plagued him since Norbert had been murdered – but instead he felt tainted, as though he had uncovered
secrets that should have been left undisturbed.

He gave Michael a terse summary of the friar’s confession, adding that Turke had probably stabbed Norbert in a fit of outraged
indignation. It was not the first time the fishmonger had vented his temper by using a knife on a man who had offended him.
It also made sense that he had braved the ice he so feared in order to hunt for the weapon that would link his household to
the crime – it was a desperate act of self-preservation.

‘Why did he choose that particular day to conduct his search?’ asked Michael doubtfully. ‘Why not sooner? Or later?’

Bartholomew sighed. ‘Think about what transpired when he identified Gosslinge’s body. The matter of the missing knife was
raised. Giles told us that Gosslinge had a dagger that was too large for him. We made the assumption that it was stolen with
Gosslinge’s clothes. Then Turke gave us the relic to pay for a requiem, and we discussed St Zeno and fishermen.’

‘Giles said the relic would do Michaelhouse no good as long as the river was frozen,’ recalled Michael, ‘because anglers would
not be able to break through the ice to reach the fish. Turke then mentioned a dislike of ice.’

‘Exactly. Giles also said he had thrown a stone on the river, and it had skittered across the surface. I think Turke realised
then that the knife he had used on Norbert might have suffered a similar fate – it was not in the water, but
on
it. He searched for it that very day, perhaps obliged to wait until the Mill Pool was suitably deserted, but knowing it would
only be a matter of time before someone recovered
the murder weapon. And, if you recall, he said we should not bother to look for Gosslinge’s knife – only his valuable clothes.’

‘Because he did not want us to find the thing at all,’ concluded Michael, nodding. ‘A cold killer indeed. Poor Ailred! How
hard it must have been to meet the man who had murdered both his siblings, and see he felt no remorse. Turke’s pilgrimage
was not to atone for their deaths, but to make sure he was eligible to be elected Lord Mayor of London.’

‘There is no evidence to convict Frith of killing Turke. Morice cannot charge him with the murder, because we only have Ailred’s
confession to go on, and Ailred is dead.’

‘True, but Frith was about to incinerate Michaelhouse,’ said Michael grimly. ‘He and his accomplices will not go free.’

‘They might,’ said Bartholomew. ‘How much do you think Morice demands from would-be arsonists for an early release?’

‘More than Frith has,’ determined Michael firmly. ‘If Morice does release them, he will be in for a bitter dispute with the
University. He will not want that.’

‘Tulyet would not want that,’ corrected Bartholomew. ‘Morice does not care. And there is a lot you can do with the kind of
bribe it would take to free four people from such serious charges.’