The Killer of Pilgrims by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online

up his pet peacock and hugged it. It crooned and nestled against him. Bartholomew had always been surprised by the
     relationship between porter and bird, because both were sour tempered and inclined to be solitary.
    ‘Incidentally, the uncanny calm in the town is Emma de Colvyll’s doing,’ Walter went on when Bartholomew made no reply. ‘She
     has driven the other criminals out of business, see.’
    ‘She is not a criminal,’ said Bartholomew. ‘She is a businesswoman.’
    ‘She
is
a criminal,’ asserted Walter firmly. ‘She may not go around burgling and robbing, but there are other ways to deprive a man
     of his wealth. She is deeply wicked, and I dislike the fact that my College accepted her charity.’
    He scowled into the yard. Scaffolding swathed the building where Bartholomew lived, and he was alarmed when he saw most of
     the roof tiles had been removed since he had gone out. If it rained – and the sky was ominously dark – the rooms beneath would
     be drenched. He hoped the workmen knew what they were doing.
    ‘It will not be for long,’ he said, wincing when a carelessly placed strut slithered off the roof to land with an almighty
     crash that reverberated around the whole College. The peacock issued one of its piercing shrieks in reply. The mason imitated
     it, and his workmates guffawed uproariously. None of them could be seen, because they were all on the far side of the roof
     – the section that overlooked the gardens at the back. ‘The repairs will soon be finished.’
    ‘The repairs
will
soon be finished,’ agreed Walter, hugging his bird more tightly. ‘But the debt will last for ever, and it will not be long
     before Emma starts demanding payment. And I do not refer to money. She will want other things.’ His voice dropped meaningfully.
     ‘Like services.’
    Bartholomew frowned, puzzled. ‘Yes, she has asked for services. The priests among us have agreed to say masses for her husband’s
     soul, while Master Langelee ordered me to tend her—’
    ‘I do not mean prayers and medicine,’ interrupted Walter impatiently. ‘I mean other things. She will be asking for dubious
     favours soon. I tell you, it is not a good idea to do business with her, even if she is making us watertight. Which I seriously
     doubt.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘The workmen seem to be doing well enough.’
    ‘The mason – Yffi – is careless and shoddy. Take this morning, for example. He arrived at dawn, and has been labouring ever
     since. Look at how much he has done.’
    Bartholomew looked at the roof, trying to understand Walter’s point. ‘His apprentices have removed all the old tiles, and
     he has laid two rows of new ones. He has achieved a lot.’
    ‘Exactly!’ pounced Walter. ‘A good mason would have taken twice as long. The roof will leak again as soon as he leaves, and
     all this chaos and upheaval will have been for nothing.
And
we shall have Emma de Colvyll after us for dark favours.’
    Bartholomew left, hoping Walter was wrong, then stood for a moment, looking around him. His College comprised a handsome stone-built
     hall, with two accommodation wings set at right angles to it. He lived in the northern wing, the older and shabbier of the
     pair, where he occupied two chambers – a large one he shared with his students,and a cupboard-like space that was used for storing the accoutrements necessary for his work as a physician.
    There was just enough space in the little room for a mattress, and he had taken to sleeping there following an incident involving
     missing potions the previous term: he felt people were less likely to help themselves to what were some very dangerous substances
     if he was present. The smell had been uncomfortable to begin with, but he had quickly grown used to it, and his students were
     pleased to have the additional space in the main chamber.
    He started to walk again, but had not gone far before he was intercepted by Robert de