Murder by the Book by Susanna Gregory

that.’
    Bartholomew saw there was indeed a structure beneaththe water. It was made from old planks, and was black with age and slime. He supposed it would normally be exposed, but recent rains meant the water level was higher than usual. He stepped on to it, wincing at the frigid temperature a second time, and was relieved to find it only reached mid-calf. Gingerly, he moved along it, wondering just how old the planks were, and whether they were stable. The thought had no sooner formed in his mind when he felt them move. He froze in alarm.
    ‘Stop,’ said Cynric urgently. ‘Come back, and I will—’
    The rest of his sentence was lost under a tearing groan. Bartholomew flailed his arms in a desperate effort to keep his balance, but the wood crumbled beneath his feet, and into the pond he went. It was so cold after the warmth of the day that he gasped involuntarily, inhaling water that made him choke. He struck out for the bank, but a piece of planking landed on him and forced him beneath the surface. There, looming in the darkness, was a dead face. Startled, he gulped a second time, swallowing yet more water.
    ‘You did not bring the body,’ said Browne, grinning his amusement as the physician scrambled up the bank, dripping and disgusted. ‘You will have to go back for it.’
    ‘I saw it under the water.’ Bartholomew coughed, and Cynric pounded him on the back. ‘Your beadles will have to trawl for it, Brother. I had no idea this pond was so deep.’
    ‘It
is
deep,’ agreed Browne. ‘The fish would have died years ago, were it not. But the corpse is not under the water, Bartholomew. It has not moved.’
    Bartholomew glanced behind him, and saw that Browne was right. ‘But I saw a face,’ he said, wondering whether he had imagined it; the pond was murky after all. ‘It floated past me …’
    ‘There are
two
corpses,’ cried Cynric, the shrillness of his voice making everyone jump. ‘I told you this place was evil!’
    Bartholomew looked to where he was pointing, and saw the unmistakable shape of a second body, bobbing a short distance from the first.
    ‘Actually, there are three,’ breathed Michael, gesturing in entirely another direction. ‘Lord save us! It is a veritable graveyard!’

CHAPTER 2
    It was late afternoon by the time the beadles had completed an initial dredge of the pond. The first body had been snagged on the underwater structure, and it had taken three of them to haul it free; the other corpses had been recovered by dropping hooks into the water. The pond released a foul odour as it was disturbed, and several beadles claimed to feel faint, so Michael sent Cynric to fetch Bartholomew, who had gone home. The physician arrived to find the men sullen and fearful, but was unsympathetic when he learned why.
    ‘The smell is
not
the Devil’s breath,’ he said firmly, glaring at his book-bearer as he did so – he knew exactly who had put that thought into their minds. ‘It is just stagnant water.’
    ‘We found four bodies in the end,’ said Michael, pointing to a row of shrouded shapes. ‘And a bucketful of bones that could represent yet more unfortunates.’
    Bartholomew inspected them quickly. ‘Chickens and geese, Brother, from the tavern’s table. And one or two cats that must have tried to catch the fish and tumbled in. The sides of the pond are steep, and if the water was low, it might be difficult to climb out again.’
    ‘No, the evil faeries had them,’ countered Cynric matter-of-factly. ‘Cats have excellent balance, and do not fall into pools while hunting. And even if they did, they can swim.’
    ‘Normally, I would ask you to examine these bodies – the human ones, I mean – immediately,’ said Michael,ignoring him and addressing Bartholomew. ‘But we are all tired, so it can wait. My beadles will take them to St Mary the Great, and you can look at them tomorrow, when inconsiderate book-bearers are not making unsettling remarks about demonic spirits and the