Giordano Bruno Thriller Series Books 1-3: Heresy, Prophecy, Sacrilege. S. J. Parris
Читать онлайн книгу.
I share it with my servant, Thomas.’
‘Then,’ I glanced across the courtyard at the passages that led either side of the hall to the garden, calculating the distance. ‘You must have exceptional hearing to have been woken by the commotion from the Grove, when these rooms are the furthest away from it.’
He regarded me for a moment with a closed expression, then stepped towards me, taking my elbow, and leaned in with a confidential whisper.
‘There you have me, Doctor Bruno – I will confess that I was not abed when I heard the noise, but please let that be a confidence between us.’
I raised an eyebrow; he gave me a knowing nudge in the ribs, from which I was presumably supposed to infer some manly nocturnal pursuit. In such an intimate stance it was clear that he had no smell of drink on him, and a man who had been carousing all night could not have had such a steady hand as I had witnessed with the bow and arrow; I guessed, then, that he had been bedding some woman and was secretly pleased to share the triumph. That at least would account for his ridiculous garb at that hour of the morning, I thought.
‘I had spent the night away from college – you understand my meaning, I’m sure,’ he said, with a wink, ‘and on my return I was passing along St Mildred’s Lane by Jesus College when I heard the frenzied barking of that dog and those dreadful cries. I realised it was coming from the Grove and ran straightways for my bow and then to the gate, where I found you all gathered, looking on.’
The reproach stung, so I countered with one of my own.
‘Did you not try the gate from Brasenose Lane? You might have arrived sooner.’
‘But I don’t have a key to that gate,’ he said, puzzled. ‘Only the senior Fellows do. I was not to know it had been left open – the Fellows treat that Grove as if it were sacred. I acted as quickly as I could, Doctor Bruno.’
‘And did you see anyone near the college walls as you approached?’ I asked, as lightly as I could.
Norris tilted his head, considering.
‘Now that you mention it – at one point I thought I heard footsteps up ahead, running, but the sound was lost in the din from the garden and in all that followed I forgot all about it. Why do you ask?’
‘I only wondered if many people were abroad at that time of day,’ I said, turning to go. ‘I should really take these to the rector.’
He eyed me curiously for some moments, before clapping me on the shoulder.
‘We are all looking forward to your disputation this evening. I don’t care much for cosmology either way, but I shall applaud you if you can make the rector look a fool. Although I imagine he will do that quite efficiently by himself.’ He grinned and turned as if to leave, then looked back at me with a serious expression. ‘I suppose you and I shall be called to give account if there is an inquest. There will be trouble for me over the bow and arrows, no doubt – no one is allowed to keep weapons in the university precincts. Perhaps you could mention that the hound could not have been subdued without my intervention, Doctor Bruno?’
‘I will certainly give a true account of events to the best of my ability, if one is requested,’ I replied, bowing in return.
‘Thank you. Arrivederci, il mio doctore!’ he cried, turning on his heel and striding swiftly towards the main gate. I watched him walk away, intrigued. Gabriel Norris might be an unbearable peacock, but it would be a mistake to underestimate his sharpness.
I stood in the courtyard, my arms full of Roger Mercer’s clothes, wondering what I should do next. The sun was obscured behind rows of pewter clouds, stretching out in waves over the rooftops like an inverted ocean; I shivered in my thin shirt. Slythurst was sure to tell the rector that I had been found rummaging in the dead man’s room and had even got as far as dragging his money chest from its hiding place; the only way I could hope to protest my innocence was to repeat my ridiculous lie about trying to help out with the clothes. I looked down at the bundle in my arms, garments which still retained the musky smell of their owner’s body, and decided I must take them to the rector as soon as I could, before Slythurst could insinuate anything unpleasant in his ear. I would tell him it was an old Nolan custom to show respect for the dead; he might think me absurd, but I hoped he would not suspect me for a thief. He would also wonder why I had taken the dead man’s keys; these I must return as soon as possible, though I would have liked to keep them in case I had the chance to search the tower room further. But surely Slythurst would have found what he came for by now, if the first ransacker had not.
My head was swimming; I wanted nothing more than to return to bed and lie down, but I turned again towards the gatehouse and found a door set into the wall of the archway to the right of the vast wooden gate with a painted sign proclaiming the porter’s lodge.
I peeked around the door; a fat, old man with a brush of wiry grey hair sat beside a wooden table, his head slumped to his chest, breathing heavily. There were beer stains on his jerkin and a tired-looking black dog lay at his feet, its muzzle all peppered with grey. It half raised its head at my footsteps, regarding me through milky eyes, then returned to its sleepy position as if that small effort was as much as it could offer. I cleared my throat and knocked at the same time; the old man’s head jerked upwards in confusion and spittle glistened on his grizzled chin.
‘Pardon me, sir, must have drifted for a moment there,’ he muttered.
‘Goodman Cobbett? My name is Giordano Bruno—’
‘I know you, sir, you are our honoured guest come to cross swords with the rector tonight – I refer to the swords of words, naturally, for your actual sword is not permitted about the college, sir. And what a dreadful day for you to be here, sir, for such a misfortune as we have had this morning, it hardly bears thinking of.’ He shook his head theatrically and his jowls swung from side to side.
‘Yes, I am deeply sorry,’ I said, taking the keys from my pocket. ‘I was there in the Grove assisting the rector – he asked me to see that Doctor Mercer’s keys were safely returned, I presumed he meant to you?’
The old porter’s face lit up with relief at the sight of the key-ring.
‘Oh, thank Heaven for that! At least we have one set back. I begin to think keys have legs round these parts.’
‘Do you not keep a spare?’ I asked, gently easing the door closed behind me.
‘We do, sir, but the spare disappeared from my key cupboard a couple of days ago, which seemed curious at the time, since Doctor Mercer never asked me for it and I am rarely out of the lodge. I thought perhaps the bursar had needed it to get to the strongroom in a hurry – you must go through the sub-rector’s room to access the tower, you see – but he says he knows nothing of it either.’ He shook his head again. ‘The Fellows are worse than the students, if you ask me – forever mislaying keys. They don’t seem to realise new keys cost money.’
‘Do you keep spare keys to all the rooms in the college?’
‘Certainly, sir – I’ll show you.’ The old man heaved himself to his feet, wheezing alarmingly, and lumbered across to a shallow wooden cupboard mounted on the back wall behind his desk. Proudly he flung open both doors to reveal rows of iron keys of assorted shapes and sizes hanging from hooks, each labelled with a combination of letters and numbers.
‘How do you ever tell which is which?’ I asked innocently.
‘Ah,’ Cobbett said, tapping the side of his bulbous scarlet nose. ‘I have a system designed to prevent them falling into the wrong hands, see? If I were to just label them “Tower Room”, “Library” and so on, be too easy for the young ’uns to sneak in and help themselves when I’m sleeping or relieving meself or whatnot. So I made up a code, oh, years ago now. If anyone loses a key they come to me and I find them the spare, but they can’t steal them to get in where they don’t belong to play pranks or what have you.’
‘So you have a complete set of keys to all the doors and gates in the college?’