A Summer of Discontent by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page B

favour of de Lisle, because
     de Lisle happened to be at the papal palace at Avignon at the time, and the Pope had taken a fancy to him. So Alan remained
     a mere prior, while de Lisle was made Bishop.’
    ‘I hardly think it happened like that,’ objected Michael testily. ‘De Lisle was appointed by the Pope, because the Pope thought
     he would make a better bishop than Alan. And he was right: de Lisle is an exceptional man.’
    ‘He is also a murderous one, if these rumours are to be believed. You should be careful, Brother: it could be dangerous to
     ally yourself with de Lisle when he has been accused of committing unforgivable crimes.’
    ‘Those accusations are malicious lies, probably put about by the likes of that Robert,’ said Michael.
    ‘I hope you are right. Do you think it is significant that the Bishop was burgled, and then finds himself accused of murder?’
    Michael stared at him. ‘Should I?’
    Bartholomew shrugged. ‘Perhaps de Lisle sent one of his spies to discover who had the audacity to steal from him, and then
     dispensed his own justice to the culprit.’
    Michael grimaced. ‘You are quite wrong.’ He frowneduneasily. ‘At least, I hope so. There is always someone who would like to see a bishop fall from grace, and it is possible
     that whoever burgled de Lisle’s house was looking for something that might do just that. Finding nothing, this accusation
     of murder was fabricated instead.’
    ‘You do not have any evidence to jump to that sort of conclusion,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Do not try to make this case into one
     of your complex University plots, Brother. We are miles from Cambridge here.’
    ‘True,’ said Michael with a grin. ‘But clerics are just as good at creating webs of lies and intrigue as scholars, you know.’
    Bartholomew caught the monk’s sleeve and pointed to a tall, silver-haired man who was hurrying towards them with a significant
     retinue of servants at his heels. ‘Here comes de Lisle now. He looks agitated.’
    ‘Of course he is agitated,’ said Michael. ‘So would you be, if half the town believed you guilty of murder.’
    Michael stepped forward as the Bishop approached, smiling a greeting. Bartholomew stood back, to allow Michael to speak to
     de Lisle in private, although the great man’s retinue showed no such consideration. They pushed forward to surround him and
     his agent, some elbowing others so that they might better see and hear what was happening. There were pages, clerks and retainers,
     all dressed in the sober livery of the Bishop’s household. They changed each time Bartholomew saw them, and there was only
     one face among the crowd that he recognised – that of de Lisle’s steward, Ralph. De Lisle was not an easy man to work for,
     and it was to Ralph’s – and Michael’s – credit that they had survived in his service for so long.
    De Lisle had aged since Bartholomew had last met him, and the austere, arrogant face that the physician remembered was lined
     with worry and fatigue. His hair was greyer, too, with no trace of the dark brown of his earlier years. De Lisle was a man
     in his fifties, with a tall, upright bearingand a confident swagger. His hair was neatly combed around a small tonsure, and his black and white Dominican robes were
     made of the finest cloth money could buy. Not for de Lisle the sandals worn by most monks and friars; his feet were clad in
     shoes made from soft calfskin. Several rings – so large they verged on the tasteless – adorned his fingers, and a large cross
     of solid gold hung around his neck.
    ‘Michael! At last!’ exclaimed de Lisle, extending one beringed hand to be kissed. He gave Bartholomew a cool nod of recognition,
     then his attention returned to Michael. ‘Where have you been? I expected you yesterday.’
    ‘I was detained by pressing business in Cambridge,’ Michael replied vaguely, giving the proffered ring the most perfunctory
     of kisses, and indicating that while he