Giordano Bruno Thriller Series Books 1-3: Heresy, Prophecy, Sacrilege

‘Locked?’ He looked puzzled. ‘Curious.’

He crossed to the door and tried it himself, as if to prove that he would not accept my word on anything. There was another uncomfortable silence; I knew he was waiting for me to leave and I was reluctant to abandon the room in case whatever he and the other searcher wanted was still there to be found. But I could not plausibly prolong my presence there, so I gave a terse bow.

‘Well, I will leave you to your sad task, Master Slythurst.’

He only nodded, but as I reached the door, he called,

‘Doctor Bruno – have you not forgotten something?’

I thought for a moment he meant the keys, and was expecting me to hand them over to him. I looked at him, uncomprehending, as a smile of satisfaction cut across his face.

‘The clothes? To dress the body?’

‘Of course.’ Hastily I ran back to the wardrobe and gathered an armful of garments without stopping to look at them, aware that my pitiful lie had now collapsed entirely.

‘I’m sure the rector will be most grateful for your assistance,’ Slythurst said pleasantly, holding the door open for me as I struggled out with the unwanted clothes. As I passed, he hissed, ‘I shall be watching you, Bruno.’

I offered him my most charming smile in return as I passed through. Moments later I heard the sound of a key turning smoothly in the lock.

Returning to the courtyard I caught sight of Gabriel Norris, now more soberly dressed in a suit of black and a plain gown, which made his good looks stand out all the more. He stood at the entrance to the west range stairway on the other side of the tower and appeared to be regaling a group of fellow students with tales of his heroism; one hand was held out flat at chest height, a vastly exaggerated account of the dog’s size, and I could not help smiling to myself at the bravado of the young. He spotted me and broke off mid-sentence, looking with some suspicion at the bundle of Mercer’s clothes in my arms and then at the entrance from which I had just emerged.

‘What, has the looting begun already, Doctor Bruno?’ he called, a little too jovially.

‘I am assisting the rector,’ I repeated, since it seemed this defence could not be contradicted.

‘Ah.’ He nodded and, leaving his friends, sauntered over to me. At close quarters I noticed that he seemed older than the boys who now stood waiting for him; I would have guessed his age at twenty-five or more. ‘That was a bit of excitement we had this morning, was it not?’

‘I’m not sure that’s the word I would use.’

‘No – no, of course.’ He assumed a solemn expression. ‘I meant only – Oxford life is usually so uneventful, and now we have a royal visitation and a tragedy all at once, we hardly know which to talk about first.’

‘You were very level-headed this morning,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I would have had such a steady arm in the heat of the moment. It is lucky you are a good shot.’

Norris inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment.

‘My father taught me to hunt as a boy,’ he said. ‘I only wish I could have been quick enough to save Doctor Mercer.’ He rubbed the back of his hand across his brow; I suspected that, under all his swaggering, the experience had shaken him profoundly.

‘Did you know him well?’ I asked.

‘He has been my tutor since Doctor Allen was deprived last year.’ A strange expression crossed his face, as if he were struggling to master some emotion. ‘We were close, I suppose. I respected him, in any case.’

‘That was a hunting dog that killed him, was it not?’ I said.

‘Irish wolfhound. Very efficient hunters – always go straight in to break the neck, you know,’ he said in a brisker tone, pleased to display his knowledge. Then he frowned. ‘But it is usually a gentle dog, too – people keep them as pets. They’re not so unpredictable in temperament as, say, a mastiff – they rarely attack unless they have been trained to do so.’

‘It was starving, though – did you not see the scrawny state of it?’

He nodded slowly.

‘Must have been a stray – I suppose if it was desperate for meat it would savage the first living creature it found.’

‘Is it not unusual that a stray wolfhound should be roaming the streets of Oxford at night?’ I asked.

He looked at me curiously, as if he found my questions odd, but shrugged.

‘There is hunting in the royal forest of Shotover, to the east of the city – you can hire dogs from the keeper there for a day’s hunt. Some of the commoners go from time to time when we have permission. Perhaps one of their dogs got loose and wandered into the city.’ He sounded as if he had lost interest in the subject, and looked around to check that his group of admirers was still waiting. ‘Well, Doctor Bruno – I must collect my books and get along to lectures. I hope this morning’s adventure will not mar your stay in Oxford too badly.’ He bowed briefly and made to enter the staircase.

‘You have a room in there?’ I asked, gesturing with my thumb.

‘That’s right,’ he said, carelessly. ‘One of the best in the college. 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.