‘I have no idea, but we should have known better than to recruit an Austin,’ spat William. ‘They are all the same: lazy and unreliable.’
‘That is untrue, Father,’ objected Clippesby, who had a toad on the table and was trying to feed it pieces of meat. ‘Prior Joliet and Almoner Robert have worked extremely hard on our behalf, and my students say their lecture yesterday was a masterpiece.’
‘I would not know,’ said William acidly. ‘I did not hear any of it because I was trying to control a lot of unruly medics. Moreover, it is not the first time that Wauter has played truant. He vanished on All Souls’ Day, too, when the rest of us clerics were frantically trying to prepare the church for our founder’s Requiem Mass.’
‘Oh, yes,’ recalled Michael. ‘He returned breathless and dishevelled, and made that odd remark about us being “perceived as having an unstained soul despite our many blemishes”. I did not know what he meant then, and I do not know now.’
‘This toad heard Kellawe say–’ began Clippesby.
‘Kellawe!’ said William in distaste. ‘My Order should never have accepted him. And now he has a licence to absolve scholars from acts of violence. It is not fair! He will only use it on men from Zachary, leaving the rest of us stained with sin.’
‘You will not be stained with sin if you commit no crimes,’ Bartholomew pointed out.
‘This toad,’ repeated Clippesby loudly, cutting across William’s tart response, ‘heard Kellawe say that Wauter left the town on horseback yesterday. Wauter had a fat saddlebag, and it appeared as though he intended to be gone for some time.’
‘Without asking his Master’s permission?’ demanded Langelee angrily. ‘Well, when he returns he will learn that Michaelhouse is not Zachary – we do not permit Fellows to trot off in the middle of term. What about his teaching? Ah! Here is Prior Joliet and his helpers. We shall ask them about their fellow Austin’s antics.’
‘But where would he go?’ asked Prior Joliet worriedly, when Langelee explained what had happened. His arm was in a sling – a scrap of orange material that was very bright against the sober habit of his Order. ‘He has no family, and all his friends are here.’
‘I will ask our brethren,’ offered Robert. ‘Perhaps one of them will know.’
‘Will you teach his classes?’ asked William belligerently. ‘Because I am not doing it.’
‘Of course,’ replied Joliet. ‘Robert and I shall lecture on St Augustine’s Sermones while Hamo tries to finish the mural. And finish we must, as we start work in King’s Hall next week.’
‘Your Hallow-tide celebrations did much to secure us new commissions,’ said Robert with a smile that held the hint of a gloat. ‘I hope fortune shone on you as brightly.’
‘Of course it did,’ lied Langelee, unwilling to admit that it had not.
Assuming he was no longer needed now that Nigellus was in custody – Michael was more than capable of finding the evidence needed to prove the medicus’s crimes himself – Bartholomew informed his students that he planned to test them on Galen’s De ossibus that morning. He was irked by the relief on their faces when Michael announced that the investigation was still a long way from over, and that the physician could not return to his regular duties just yet.
‘A terrible thought struck me earlier,’ the monk confided, once it had been agreed that Robert would read the relevant passages to the medics on the understanding that they would have them verbatim by the end of the week.
‘That my students will never become physicians as long as you keep tearing me away from my teaching?’ asked Bartholomew sourly.
Michael’s expression was bleak. ‘I am serious, Matt. A lot of things are going wrong at the moment – the various lawsuits, the murders, the assault on Anne, the trouble at the dyeworks. And now Wauter has vanished.’
Bartholomew regarded him blankly. ‘I do not understand–’
‘I have assumed they are all unrelated, a random collection of nasty events. But there are so many of them, and they all do one thing: damage the relationship between town and University. In short, I think someone is orchestrating the whole lot – someone who wants the situation to explode into violence.’
‘Why would anyone want that?’ asked Bartholomew doubtfully. ‘Who would benefit?’
‘Those who would like us to move to the Fens. What began as a silly rumour has become a movement with growing support. A lot of our scholars think it is a very good idea. And if there is open war between us and the town, even more will agree.’
‘But there is nothing in the Fens. It is a stupid notion.’
‘Is it? The priests among us have long deplored the University’s growing secularism, and a move to the marshes would make us more like a monastery – a self-sufficient foundation set apart from the vices of the laity.’
Bartholomew rubbed a hand through his hair. ‘Let us assume you are right. Is Nigellus the sly mastermind behind this scheme?’
‘It is possible: he does think we should go. But so does another suspect, one who is much closer to home.’
Bartholomew regarded Michael in alarm. ‘You mean Wauter?’
‘Yes. He was a scholar in Zachary until the beginning of term – Nigellus’s hostel. Their terms of tenure did not overlap, but they still had dealings with each other.’
‘You think Wauter encouraged Nigellus to … No, Brother! This is too outlandish.’
‘Perhaps. Yet Zachary lies at the heart of all our problems: one of its masters assaulted Anne; he and two other members lie dead in odd circumstances; another has a licence to absolve scholars from violent acts; its new Principal has an unsavoury hold over the Chancellor; it lies on the same street as the brewery and the dyeworks; and its resident medicus stands accused of murder.’
‘And an ex-member is a strong supporter for a move to the Fens,’ added Bartholomew reluctantly. ‘Although I do not see Wauter as an arch villain who would sacrifice lives to get what he wants.’
‘I do not know what to think. However, there is only one way forward: Frenge’s murder started it all, and I have the sense that finding his killer will allow us to make sense of everything. You have never been happy with the evidence against Nigellus, so let us explore our other suspects for a while instead – the men of King’s Hall, Shirwynk and Peyn, Hakeney and Stephen.’
‘The last four would be glad to see the University leave Cambridge,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But the King’s Hall men would rather it stayed.’
‘So they claim – they may be lying in an effort to confuse us. We shall ask them as soon as we have had words with Stephen about his sly manipulation of our gullible priors.’
They walked directly to Stephen’s house on the High Street, only to be informed by his maid that her master was out with a client, although she was unable to say which one.
‘Tell him we called,’ ordered Michael, not bothering to hide his irritation. ‘And that he had better be in when we visit later, or there will be trouble.’
The girl gulped, clearly loath to repeat that sort of message to the man who paid her wages. ‘Then come in and wait for him,’ she suggested. ‘He will not be long – he is still not very well, so he will be keen to come home and lie down. He has pains in his wrists and he keeps being sick.’
‘I hope he will not use ill health as an excuse to avoid answering our questions – if he is fit enough to dash out after customers, then he is fit enough to speak to us,’ said Michael unsympathetically. ‘You can tell him that when he returns as well.’
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and began to stalk towards King’s Hall. However, he and Bartholomew had not taken many steps before they met Tulyet and Dickon. The boy’s face was as vividly scarlet as ever, so he remained an unsettling sight. He favoured the two scholars with a wide grin, and they blinked their astonishment: his teeth were blue.