A Summer of Discontent by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online

will keep my own counsel, but you must keep yours, too.’
    He gave the physician a grin, which broke the mood of unease, and they rode on. Eventually, they reached the Heyrow, where
     the largest and most magnificent of the merchants’ houses were located. It was a wide street, with timber-framed buildings
     standing in a proud row along the north side and the stalwart wall of the cathedral-priory lining the south side. Two inns
     stood on the Heyrow – the Lamb was a huge, but shabby, institution with a reputation for excellent ale, while the White Hart
     was a fashionable establishment with two guest wings and a central hall.
    Opposite the White Hart was the entrance to the priory called Steeple Gate, so named for the small spire on the half-finished
     parish church that was little more than a lean-to against the north wall of the cathedral. The Gate was located near the almonry,
     where food, and occasionally money, was distributed to the city’s poor. A cluster of beggars hovered there, jostling each
     other to be first tograb whatever the priory deigned to pass their way. Michael dismounted, pushed his way through them and hammered on the door.
    Moments later, a pair of unfriendly eyes peered through the grille, and the door was pulled open with distinct reluctance.
    ‘Oh, it is you,’ said the dark-featured monk who stood on the other side. His face was soft and decadent, like an Italian
     banker’s, while a sizeable bulge around his middle indicated that he should either do more exercise or eat less at the priory’s
     refectory. ‘I thought it would not be long before
you
came to help the Bishop get out of the mess he has made for himself.’
    ‘I was summoned,’ said Michael haughtily, pushing open the door and easing his bulk through it. ‘And what are you doing answering
     gates, Brother Robert? I thought almoners were far too important to perform such menial tasks.’
    ‘It is Sunday sext – one of the times when we distribute alms to the poor,’ replied Robert, unpleasantly churlish. ‘I can
     hardly do that with the door closed, can I?’
    ‘This is Robert de Sutton, Matt,’ said Michael, turning to Bartholomew and indicating the monk with a contemptuous flick of
     his hand. ‘He is a famous man in Ely, because he demands a fee of three pennies from anyone wanting to pray at St Etheldreda’s
     shrine.’
    Bartholomew gazed at Robert in disbelief. ‘You charge pilgrims to pray? But some of them have no money to give you. They are
     poor folk, who make their way here on foot because they are desperate, and can think of no other way to improve their lot.’
    ‘Then they do not gain access to St Etheldreda,’ said Robert with finality. ‘Maintaining an edifice like that is expensive,
     and pilgrims will wear it out with their kisses and their knees rubbing across its flagstones.’
    ‘Come on, Matt,’ said Michael, giving Robert a withering glance. ‘We have no time to waste in idle chatter.’
    ‘Wait!’ ordered Robert. He nodded to Bartholomew andthe two servants. ‘Who are these people? We do not let just anyone inside, you know.’
    ‘They are with me, and that is all you need to know,’ said Michael importantly, turning to leave. Robert dared to lay several
     plump fingers on the expensive fabric of Michael’s gown to detain him, which earned him an outraged glare.
    ‘The Bishop’s house was burgled a few nights ago,’ said Robert, withdrawing his hand hastily. ‘The Prior says that no strangers
     are to be admitted to the monastery unless they are accompanied by one of us.’
    Michael gave a hearty sigh at the almoner’s slow wits. ‘They
are
accompanied by one of us. Me.’ He started to walk away, but then turned again. ‘What is this about the Bishop being burgled?
     What was stolen, and when did this occur?’
    ‘It was about ten days ago,’ replied the almoner, reluctantly yielding the information. ‘Nothing much was stolen. I expect
     the thieves anticipated gold,