Death of a Scholar (8 page)

‘It will be an improvement on some of the coxcombs who intend to speak there,’ remarked William, casting a pointed glance at the Gilbertine’s bright puce shoes.

‘What happened to your hand, Thelnetham?’ asked Bartholomew, before they could argue.

‘I cut it on the church door,’ explained the Gilbertine. ‘The latch has always been awkward, but recently it has been much worse.’

‘It never sticks for me,’ said William immediately, watching Bartholomew unwind the bandage to inspect the wound. ‘Obviously, God does not want you in there.’

‘It
does
stick for you,’ countered Hemmysby. ‘I saw you wrestling with it only yesterday.’

William scowled. ‘You are confusing me with someone else.’

‘I doubt that is possible,’ said Thelnetham unpleasantly, then jerked his hand away with a screech. ‘That hurt, Matthew! Have a care!’

‘We should replace that latch,’ said the portly Suttone. ‘It has been a nuisance for years.’

‘How?’ asked Langelee. ‘We cannot justify hiring a craftsman when we have no money for victuals. Indeed, it would not surprise me if breakfast this morning comprised nothing but sawdust and dung.’

‘I said ten free masses for the locksmith’s wife last year,’ mused Hemmysby. ‘I am sure he would give us a new mechanism if I asked nicely.’

‘So ask,’ ordered Langelee promptly. ‘Go now.’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Hemmysby with a smile. ‘I am one of the main speakers at today’s debate, and I should spend the morning preparing. Will you be going, Master?’

‘No, I have camp-ball practice,’ replied Langelee, referring to the vicious sport at which he excelled. ‘However, I am sure College honour will be satisfied without me. Michael is also participating, I believe.’

The monk nodded. ‘It is time the friars listened to what I have to say. The concept of apostolic poverty is—’

‘We friars will win,’ interrupted William rudely. ‘Because you monastics do not know what you are talking about. Our right to property and influence is a free gift from God, and you have no right to question His will.’

‘The loss of rightful dominion through sin is in conflict with sacerdotal power to consecrate the Eucharist independently of a state of grace,’ stated Thelnetham with considerable authority, launching into a part of the debate that his less intelligent rival was unlikely to understand. ‘That is the nub of the matter. What do you think, William?’

‘Our camp-ball team is looking good this year,’ began Langelee, aiming to nip the discussion in the bud. William was not the only one who struggled with the complexities of the dispute, and Langelee had no wish to listen to his clerics airing arguments that might have been in Ancient Sumerian for all the sense they made to him. ‘We have two new—’

‘The debate will see the friars victorious.’ William interrupted again, although not to answer Thelnetham’s question, as he had no idea whether it was the nub of the matter or not. ‘How could it not, when sensible priests like me and Hemmysby have important things to say?’

‘
You
are speaking?’ asked Suttone in alarm, an expression mirrored in the faces of the others. Michaelhouse did not enjoy an especially distinguished academic reputation, but what little it did have would be lost if William was allowed to hold forth.

‘Chancellor Tynkell invited William, who then very kindly agreed to let me take his place,’ said Hemmysby, much to everyone’s profound relief. ‘I have never spoken at the Cambridge Debate before, and I am touched by his generosity of spirit.’

‘Just wait until I see Tynkell,’ growled Michael. ‘He approached William for spite, just because I told him to stop trying to make a name for himself before he retires next year. First there was that new library, and now we have Winwick Hall. The man is a menace.’

‘Naturally,
I
shall be speaking,’ said Thelnetham, wincing as Bartholomew smeared his finger with a healing paste. ‘I shall not take long to demolish the friars, after which we shall all enjoy the refreshments provided by the Guild of Saints.’

‘Eat as much as you can,’ instructed Langelee, cutting across William’s immediate objections to the Gilbertine’s predictions. ‘I shall dine there, too, after camp-ball. Then we can cancel supper and conserve our supplies.’

‘Matt and I will not have time for such pleasures,’ said Michael, with the air of a martyr. ‘We shall be hunting thieves and killers. I will have to leave the church once I have said my piece, although I doubt any mere friar will be able to refute my conclusions.’

‘
Gently
, Matthew!’ cried Thelnetham, jerking his hand away a second time. ‘I am not a corpse, needing rough treatment to haul me back to the world of the living. I am already here.’

‘More is the pity,’ muttered William.

‘Speaking of corpses, I overheard Potmoor telling a henchman about Heaven yesterday,’ said Suttone. ‘He claimed he was quite happy there, and resented being dragged back to Chesterton.’

‘He was never in Heaven,’ declared William. ‘He was in Hell. He only thought it was Paradise because Matthew rescued him before he could get a good look at it.’

‘I still think he stole our hutch,’ said Thelnetham. ‘To prove to his nasty henchmen that he has not lost his touch.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Hemmysby. ‘If I had to pick a suspect, it would be someone from Winwick Hall. Their College was built too fast, and they need money to shore it up before it falls down around their ears.’

‘Do you have any particular reason for mentioning them?’ asked Michael keenly. ‘You know its people better than the rest of us – from being a fellow member of the Guild of Saints.’

Hemmysby shrugged. ‘I am afraid not, Brother. I was just saying what I felt.’

‘You had better not indulge in unfounded statements this afternoon,’ warned Thelnetham. ‘Or you will make Michaelhouse a laughing stock. Still, better that than what Matthew and William are doing, one with his love of anatomy, and the other with his crass stupidity.’

‘I have no love of anatomy,’ objected William, startled. ‘It is a very nasty—’

‘It is a pity anatomy is frowned upon,’ said Hemmysby. ‘Lawrence from Winwick tells me it is greatly beneficial to our understanding of the human form. Personally, I applaud the practice.’

‘If that is the kind of thing you discuss at Guild meetings,’ said Thelnetham in distaste, ‘then I am glad I have not been invited to join.’

When the breakfast bell rang, the Fellows abandoned their discussion to hurry up the spiral staircase to the hall, Michael and William vying for first place. Bartholomew let the students go in front of him, because he disliked being shoved and jostled, especially when the victuals were unlikely to be worth the scramble.

‘John,’ he called to Clippesby, who was still talking to the hens. ‘You will be late, and I do not want my new students following your example.’

‘No,’ agreed the Dominican, reluctantly abandoning avian company for human. ‘You have an exceptionally unruly horde this year. Aungel is a decent lad, but Goodwyn will lead him astray. And where Aungel goes, the others follow. Ethel told me.’

‘Who is Ethel?’ asked Bartholomew.

‘The College’s top hen,’ replied Clippesby. ‘She is an observant bird when she is not eating, and she has been watching your lads carefully. Incidentally, five more applied to join them last night. I told Langelee that you would not appreciate such a large group, but he said we needed the money, and refused to listen.’

‘
Five?
’ Bartholomew was horrified. ‘But that will give me even more than I had last year – and I struggled then! How does he expect me to teach them properly?’

‘He does not care about that – he just wants their fees. You should see the size of William’s class.
He
does not mind, though, as he equates higher numbers with personal popularity. However, it will not take these young men long to realise that they are wasting their money by being with him, and then there will be trouble.’

‘Lord!’ muttered Bartholomew. ‘I had better speak to Langelee.’

‘Please do. Ethel says Langelee is wrong to overload our classes, as she believes we will not be in dire financial straits for long.’

‘Then let us hope she is right,’ said Bartholomew fervently.

‘Here come your new pupils now,’ said Clippesby, nodding to where a gaggle of young men were being conducted towards the hall by Goodwyn. ‘You must excuse me, Matt. I saw them tease a dog last night, and I have no wish to exchange pleasantries with cruel people.’

Bartholomew regarded the newcomers warily, thinking they did not look like aspiring
medici
to him. They were beautifully dressed, and their elegant manners suggested that they would be more at home at Court than dealing with the sick. He could only suppose that Langelee had accepted them without explaining what being a physician entailed.

‘Doctor Bartholomew,’ said Goodwyn unctuously. ‘Here are your latest recruits. I am sure we shall all become very fine physicians under your expert tutelage. Did I tell you that we are acquainted with your nephew, by the way? Richard said you tried to make
him
a physician, too, but he saw the light, and became a lawyer instead. There is money in law.’

‘So I understand,’ said Bartholomew, coolly, disliking the lad’s disingenuous tone. ‘Perhaps you should consider studying it.’

Goodwyn laughed. ‘Perhaps I shall, but not until I have seen what you have to offer.’

‘How do you know Richard?’ asked Bartholomew, wondering whether Goodwyn would transfer to another tutor if he overwhelmed him with work. He decided it was worth a try.

‘From a tavern we all frequent in London. We are delighted that he has decided to stay in Cambridge for a spell, as life would not be nearly as much fun if
he
returned to the city.’

‘Life will revolve around lectures and reading,’ warned Bartholomew. ‘So unless he plans to join you in the library, your paths will seldom cross.’

He walked away, smothering a smile at the newcomers’ immediate consternation.

The meal did not last long, as there was very little to eat, and Langelee’s prediction of inedibility was more accurate than was pleasant. There was no dung – at least, not that was readily identifiable – but the bits floating in the pottage were almost certainly wood shavings. When it was over, Bartholomew snagged Langelee before he could disappear to punch, bite, kick, scratch and maul his teammates in the name of sport.

‘Your new students came with testimonials from their parish priests
and
licences to matriculate,’ said the Master, immediately guessing the reason for the physician’s irritation. ‘But more importantly, they can pay a term’s fees up front, and one donated a book to our library.’

‘What book?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘A medical one?’

‘Law. Do not ask me the title – it was something in Latin.’ Langelee began to walk away. ‘And you cannot grumble about the extra work either. We must all put our shoulder to the wheel if we are to survive.’

‘Unfortunately, he is right,’ said Michael, who had been listening. ‘You are not the only one who has been burdened with unsuitable pupils. He gave
me
three Cistercians!’

‘Gracious,’ said Bartholomew, although he failed to understand why Cistercians should be deemed so undesirable. ‘But we had better make a start with your enquiries, or we shall still be investigating when we are supposed to be teaching. Our new recruits will not be impressed by tutors who fail to arrive for class.’

They left the College and walked up St Michael’s Lane. When they reached the High Street, Bartholomew was again astonished by the huge number of would-be students who had descended on the town – at least twice as many as usual.

‘They are certainly keeping my beadles busy,’ said Michael, when the physician remarked on it. ‘Unfortunately, we have no jurisdiction over them – they are not yet members of the University, as they are always quick to remind us.’

‘Some will be,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The ones who have been offered places.’

‘If only that were true! But don’t forget that they’re not bound by University rules until they have signed our register and that’s not until next week. It is not usually a problem, as most new lads are eager to make a good impression.’

‘So why are this year’s applicants different?’

‘I wish I knew. The current intake is abnormally objectionable, the worst of them all being your loathsome Goodwyn. He is still my prime suspect for stealing the Stanton Hutch, you know.’

‘But he has just paid a huge sum of money to study here. Do you really think he would promptly turn around and steal from us?’

‘You are too willing to see the good in people, Matt, and it is not a virtue. Goodwyn is a worm, and you would be wise to recognise it.’

‘The townsfolk do not like these undisciplined louts either,’ said Bartholomew, watching one particularly arrogant throng strut past. ‘Cynric told me that they are making it easy for the burglar to operate – there is so much brawling that any suspicious sounds are masked.’

Michael sniffed. ‘Potmoor – if he
is
the culprit – is such an experienced criminal that he will not need help from noisy matriculands. Incidentally, I have lost count of the number of times that I have been told you should have kept your necromantic skills to yourself and left Potmoor dead.’

Bartholomew groaned. ‘I used smelling salts, not witchery. And if Meryfeld, Rougham, Lawrence, Eyer the apothecary and Surgeon Holm had been halfway competent, they would have done the same.’

‘Perhaps they thought it was time that his reign of terror was ended. You, on the other hand, gave him the opportunity to continue.’

‘He would have woken anyway – patients with catalepsia usually do. Where are we going?’

‘To Winwick Hall. Hemmysby said they might have stolen our hutch.’

‘He also said he had no particular reason for thinking so.’ Bartholomew was alarmed that they were about to visit the new College on so frail a pretext.

‘I know. But I also have my reservations about the place – reservations that make me want to keep an eye on it. On the one hand, I am delighted that Winwick Hall is here, not in Oxford, because another endowed foundation will make our University stronger and more attractive to benefactors and students.’