“So, four in total.”
“There might be more, even if we do not know it yet. Now let us analyze who our fourth suspect might be.” He brought the candles closer to the desk. “Even if Kohl or Rothaart—or both of them—are indeed involved, the fact remains that someone, in the episcopal palace or in the abbey, has tampered with the polyptych. My theory as to what most likely happened is this: Someone acquired the contaminated wheat cereal in Magdeburg under the premise of burning it, or making use of it despite its condition, and this is the person who is responsible for the recent deaths. The Swine knew about this dubious transaction, though obviously his idiocy meant he never appreciated its significance. However, in time, and for some reason that eludes us, those involved must have feared his tongue would loosen, which is why they cut it to pieces. What’s more, I would venture that perhaps these same individuals murdered the girl with the sole intention of incriminating The Swine.”
“In that case, we would have to rule out Kohl. He isn’t going to kill his own daughter.”
“Quite. But I said perhaps. It would’ve been easier, would it not, to eliminate that poor idiot, rather than attempt to incriminate him.”
“True.”
“Anyhow, we know that The Swine could not have been the perpetrator.”
“Then we’ll have to find a better suspect with another motive.”
“Indeed. Another reason why someone would want to do away with that girl.” He stood and began to pace the room.
“And the polyptych? It must have been one of the monks who can write, and who also has access to the episcopal scriptorium,” Theresa suggested.
“Well, not exactly. The polyptych is kept by the abbey administrator, who is also the prior. In the episcopal palace the task falls to the subdeacon. But the chapter would also have access to it, for it is they who finalize the accounts of the mill.”
“I have never understood the workings of a monastery.” She leant back in her chair with disinterest.
“Generally, a monastery or abbey is always in the charge of an abbot. In his absence, the prior takes charge. If a monastery does not have an abbot, then the prior performs his duties, and the abbey is called a priory. Then there are the deans of the order, who are responsible for ensuring that the monks attend the services and perform their duties. There is also the vicar of the choir, responsible for the library and the secretariat, and the sacristan, who looks after the church.”
“None of them would have been involved in provisioning?”
“Only the abbot and the priors. Any of them could have arranged the transaction without raising suspicion. Trade is handled by the treasurer, in charge of money and supplies, the cellarer, responsible for victualing, and the estate manager and guest master, who look after the land and the optimates’ residence. The chamberlains just have responsibility for the monks’ clothes, and as for the refectorian and the procurator, I don’t think either of them would have been involved.”
“And the infirmarian and apothecary?”
“You know already that the apothecary was poisoned to death. And as for the rest of the monks, well I would put my hand in fire for them.”
“We could list their names.”
“The truth is I only know the names of the abbey monks, the late Abbot Boethius, and the two priors, secretary Ludwig and Agrippinus. The rest of them I only know by their role.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We have a couple of days before they organize another execution. And we have a number of names to consider. We have Kohl, Rothaart, Lothar, Ludwig, Agrippinus, and The Swine, who I have no doubt harbors the key to this labyrinthine puzzle.”
“If only we could speak to him.”
“After what has happened, it’s now impossible. But it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to Kohl’s wife about the circumstances of how she discovered her daughter’s body.”
They agreed that Alcuin should speak with Kohl’s wife that day, while Theresa would stay to reexamine the polyptychs. She was not enamored by the idea, but neither did she protest, for she did not feel like returning to Kohl’s mill, either. However, after a time leafing through the codices, she decided she would be more useful if she went to investigate The Swine.
Theresa arrived in the vicinity of the slaughterhouse with the sun spilling onto the maze of narrow streets. Around her townspeople were herding livestock toward the nearby pastures, while the women were out with their little ones, as white as snow. A neighbor greeted her, used to seeing her go past every day. The woman made a comment about the weather, and Theresa cheerfully paid her respects, feeling as if she were now a small part of Fulda, which was turning out to be a captivating town.
As she arrived at the slaughterhouse, she recognized the same guard who had stood in their way on the Saturday morning. He was sitting in the same spot by the door, a stick in one hand and a piece of pork belly in the other, which he gnawed on with his few remaining teeth. When she came close, she noticed that he still reeked of wine. The man, on the other hand, did not seem to recognize her, for he glanced at her and then continued to chew on the pork belly as if his life depended on it. After a moment’s hesitation, Theresa took out a slice of oat cake and offered it to the guard.
“I’ll give it to you if you let me see The Swine,” she proposed.
The guard looked greedily at the cake. Then he snatched it from her and bit into it eagerly. He kept munching as if the young woman was transparent, and when he had finished, he ordered her to leave. Theresa was infuriated.
“Go away or you’ll get the end of my stick,” the guard snapped.
Theresa understood that he would never let her in. She decided to wait in the area until someone came to relieve him, but while she walked she remembered the little window that Alcuin had opened on their last visit. If no one was on guard, perhaps she could enter through it.