Page 32 of Bloodlines and Birthright

I felt sick. Why had I become so angry with Oscar? And to berate him in the abbey forecourt, of all places, and in front of a third party! “I’m sorry, Oscar. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have got cross with you. You are very handsome, and if Brother Eduardo looked at you in a particular way, then of course you’d be aware of his gaze.”

Oscar clapped me on the shoulder. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t panic, Gavin. I’m not cross, and you’re right, I can be arrogant. You were also right about the monk. He wasn’t looking at me in a particular way. He was looking at you. So I rather think my assessment of him is correct. But we can agree to disagree. It doesn’t matter in the least.” He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Ah, here comes the abbot.”

A sense of exhaustion settled over me as I watched him stride off to greet the abbot. I wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation we’d just had. How could I have read the exchange with Brother Eduardo so differently to him? How could he be so cavalier when my mind felt disturbed?

Miss Wheeler sidled closer to me. “Are you all right, Professor? You look quite done in.”

I thrust two fingers down my collar to tug it away from my skin. I suddenly felt very hot. “I’m sorry you heard that. I shouldn’t air my grievance with him in public.”

“Please don’t be embarrassed, Professor. Your secrets, whatever they are, are safe with me. I don’t care what you are or are not.”

“I’m not,” I felt compelled to tell her.

She followed my gaze to Oscar. “I agree with you about Mr. Barratt. He is very handsome. If you tell him I said that, I will deny it most vehemently.”

Relief flooded me, making me feel even hotter. She was being so kind about my dreadful outburst that I couldn’t help the rush of warmth I felt for her.

She took my arm and squeezed. “As for Brother Eduardo⁠—”

“Don’t, Miss Wheeler. Please. I don’t want to talk about him, or Signore Scala, or aesthetes.” I sighed. “I just want the books.”

“Then I’m afraid you will have to talk about Signore Scala at some point.” She tugged my arm. “For now, let’s see what the abbot has to say about his argument with the boatbuilder.”

The abbot peered down his nose at Oscar with a mixture of disdain and indifference. I’d seen deans and other senior staff at University College look at junior staff in such a way. I’d even been looked upon like that before I became professor. The abbot felt himself far above us. Was it because of our interest in magic? Or was it simply his nature? Hopefully, it wouldn’t stop him from answering Oscar’s questions.

When we reached them, Oscar was informing the abbot of the murder in Pecco. The abbot must have already heard about it as he showed no sign of surprise or horror.

“We have been hired by Signora Colombo to find the murderer,” Oscar said. “She doesn’t trust the Carabinieri to treat the death as suspicious.”

That elicited a response of arched brows from the abbot. “I do not believe you. She cannot afford to hire anyone.”

“We came to an agreement that is not financial in nature. In short, she has something we want in return for our services.”

I held my breath. Oscar had not just lied; he’d lied to a man of God.

The abbot didn’t tell Oscar he didn’t believe him again, so Oscar pushed on. “In the course of our investigation, we learned that you were seen arguing with the victim. Can you tell us what you argued about?”

The abbot’s bulbous eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of murder, Signore Barratt?”

Oscar put up his hands. “Certainly not. We simply want to get to the bottom of this, for the widow’s sake. She has recently lost her child and now her husband. She has no one.”

At the mention of the child, the abbot bowed his head and gave it a barely perceptible shake.

Sensing a weakening of resolve, Oscar continued with the same combination of deference, sympathy, and gentle imploring. “Please, Father Abbot. Help bring justice by telling us what you and Signore Colombo argued about. It may shed light on his thoughts and concerns at the time of his death. Whatever you say to us will go no further.”

The abbot looked up and sighed. “It does not matter who you tell. The argument is not a secret. I was cross with Signore Colombo for not giving his son a proper Christian funeral.”

“Was Signore Colombo not Christian?”

“He did not have the faith.”

“And Signora Colombo?”

“I have not met her. I did not know their son had died until recently. When I learned the priest of Pecco did not conduct the funeral, I went to see Signore Colombo, to tell him I will pray for his son’s soul. He did not like this. He did not want my prayers. And now he is dead, too.” The abbot crossed himself as he murmured a prayer in Latin for the souls of the dead.

With an answer given, I expected Oscar to thank the abbot and leave. He wasn’t finished, however. “You called Signore Scala greedy, depraved and the devil. Why?”

With a subtle adjustment of his shoulders and tilt of his chin, the abbot resumed an air of superiority as if it were as natural as putting on a hat. “That is my opinion.”