The Hand of Justice by Susanna Gregory Page A

stood when Bartholomew, Michael and the two students entered.
    ‘You are a popular man, Isnard,’ said Bottisham, picking up his cloak from the table. ‘I shall leave you, before you have
     so many guests that your walls burst and your house tumbles about your ears.’
    ‘Thank you for coming,’ said Isnard, reaching out to take the man’s hand. ‘It was kind.’
    ‘I will come again tomorrow,’ promised Bottisham. ‘And I shall visit old Mistress Lenne. I will see she is looked after until
     her son arrives from Thetford, just as you ask.’
    ‘And what about Thomas Mortimer?’ asked Isnard, his voice angry. ‘Will you detain him in a dark alley and chop off his legs
     with an axe? I asked you to do that, too.’
    Bottisham smiled indulgently. ‘You can do that yourself, when you are better.’
    Isnard grinned without humour. ‘It will give me something to look forward to. I will teach him that he cannotdrive when he is full of ale, and kill honest old men as they stand chatting in the streets. Thank God Bosel is prepared to
     stand up and tell the truth.’
    Bartholomew and Michael exchanged a glance. Isnard did not notice, but Bottisham was an observant man and immediately sensed
     something amiss.
    ‘Has Bosel retracted his statement already?’ he asked in dismay. ‘I did not think Mortimer would act quite so soon. I assumed
     he would wait to see what kind of case the Sheriff put together before spending money on bribes that might not be necessary.’
    ‘Bosel will not be bribed by Mortimer,’ predicted Isnard confidently. ‘He will tell the truth. I have already made sure of
     that by offering three groats more than Mortimer’s highest price.’ He smiled in satisfaction at his foresight.
    ‘Bosel is dead,’ said Michael bluntly. ‘He will not be telling the “truth” for anyone.’
    ‘Mortimer murdered Bosel, so he cannot speak for me?’ asked Isnard, aghast.
    ‘The Sheriff says Mortimer was at a meeting all last night, so cannot be responsible,’ said Michael. ‘He will have to make
     his case without Bosel.’ He did not add that Tulyet considered this impossible.
    ‘I will dispense a little justice of my own, then,’ said Isnard, wringing his bed-covers furiously. ‘I will not lie here with
     Lenne
and
Bosel slain, and let Mortimer get away with it.’
    ‘Not yet,’ said Bartholomew, concerned that Isnard might persuade some crony to help him leave his sickbed too soon, resulting
     in a third death.
    Isnard shook his head, already spent and too unwell to sustain his temper for long. ‘I am full of words, and not the type
     to stalk merchants and take axes to them.’ Bartholomew said nothing, knowing he was exactly that kind of man – or had been,
     when in possession of all hislimbs. ‘But I mean what I say about justice. I
will
see Mortimer punished for what he did, even if it means visiting the King himself to put my case.’
    ‘I will tell you how to go about it,’ offered Bottisham generously. ‘The law is complex, and there are certain procedures
     you must follow. But your physician is waiting to tend you, and I should not linger here and make a nuisance of myself. Rest,
     Isnard. I will pray for you.’
    He patted the bargeman’s shoulder, nodded a friendly farewell to Bartholomew and Michael, and squeezed past Quenhyth and Redmeadow
     to reach the door.
    ‘I am delighted to see you looking so well,’ said Michael, plumping himself down on Isnard’s single bench with such force
     that Bartholomew thought it might break. ‘When I heard you had summoned Matt this morning, I assumed you had taken a turn
     for the worse.’
    ‘I need something for the itching, Doctor,’ said Isnard sheepishly. ‘I am sorry to drag you from your breakfast, but it could
     not wait. It is driving me to distraction.’
    ‘Itching?’ asked Bartholomew, assuming that now Isnard was confined to his bed, he was unable to escape the fleas that flourished
     in his filthy blankets.