‘Well, I did,’ stated Lichet shortly. ‘It was–’
‘Then you are a scoundrel of the first order,’ interrupted Langelee sharply. ‘And I hope you never try to play in Cambridge, because you will not be welcome.’
‘I am sure an accommodation could be reached,’ said Margery hastily, and began to talk about the weather with such sweet charm that even Langelee felt compelled to let the burning issue of goal-moving drop.
She contrived to chat amiably about nothing until the Lady, whose attention until then had been focused on her victuals, pushed her empty plate away and leaned back in her chair.
‘So you are a physician,’ she said to Bartholomew. ‘I think I recall you from my visits to Cambridge, although my memory is not what it was. I remember you, though, Brother. Such a princely figure is difficult to forget. Your remit is to keep the peace in that rough little town.’
‘It is not as rough as Clare,’ countered Langelee indignantly. ‘Ever since we arrived, we have been regaled with tales of murder, and there is a bitter feud between the castle and the town.’
‘The feud is a passing phase, sparked by the church’s restoration,’ said the Lady dismissively. ‘It will soon blow over. And as for the murders, well, these things happen from time to time.’
‘They were accidents, not murder,’ announced Lichet with authority. ‘Our townsfolk live dull lives, and love to excite themselves by pretending that perfectly natural deaths are examples of unlawful killing. However, this is not a suitable discussion for the table of a great lady, so instead, would you like to hear about the time when I saved an entire town from the plague?’
That did not sound like a very genteel topic of conversation either, but Lichet forged on before anyone could stop him. The Lady appeared to hang on his every word, making Bartholomew wonder if Lichet had bewitched her, because the tale was poorly told and patently self-serving. While it was going on, he happened to glance at Marishal. The steward’s expression was distant, and Bartholomew was under the impression that he was mulling over the accusation that Badew had levelled against his unruly offspring.
It felt like an age before the Lady stood to leave for her post-prandial nap, and Bartholomew was dismayed when she indicated that she wanted him to assist her to her chambers. He had hoped to escape – to explore Clare before any more of the day was lost, or even to help Langelee and Michael recruit wealthy benefactors. Anything other than wasting more time indoors.
‘Have you visited the church yet?’ she asked, as he helped her to lie on a bed that was heaped with furs. She indicated that he was to remove her shoes, while Margery hovered solicitously, ready to intervene if he proved unequal to the task. ‘Those improvements cost a fortune.’
Bartholomew nodded. ‘But worth the expense – the fan vaulting is astounding.’
‘Our anchorite would disagree – poor Anne does not like it at all. She worked here once, you know, nurse to the children of my servants and knights. She tended Margery’s pair.’
‘They are still as meek as lambs with her,’ said Margery ruefully. ‘Far better behaved than they ever were with me.’
The Lady rolled her eyes. ‘Because you are too gentle. We are lucky that Anne knew how to handle the rascals, or their mischief would have been the end of us. She even cowed Nuport, who rarely listens to anyone. Well, other than Albon, of course.’
‘Albon,’ said Margery with a fond smile. ‘He is a fine man, and I am delighted that he will soon take my son away to France. Thomas will flourish under his manly guidance.’
‘I imagine Anne told you that she was called to her cell by God,’ said the Lady, turning back to Bartholomew. ‘But the truth is that I dismissed her. She tried to rid Suzanne de Nekton of an unwanted child, you see, and the process almost killed the girl. So she was offered a choice: trial by her peers or a life dedicated to God. She picked the latter.’
‘She does not seem suited to such an existence,’ said Bartholomew carefully, thinking that the Lady’s tale explained a lot. ‘She is too worldly by half.’
‘Perhaps the sentence can be commuted in time,’ said Margery, glancing hopefully at her mistress. ‘I would not mind buying her a cottage somewhere, so she can live out her days in quiet contentment. It would be the least we could do for such a faithful servant.’
‘She is not going anywhere until she expresses some remorse,’ said the Lady coolly. ‘As things stand, she believes we are wrong to condemn what she did.’
‘What do you do when desperate and frightened girls say they are with child, Doctor Bartholomew?’ asked Margery conversationally. ‘How do you deal with unwanted pregnancies?’
Bartholomew was not about to share his views on such a contentious matter with two people he did not know. ‘I live in a community of male scholars,’ he hedged. ‘It is not a problem I encounter very often.’
‘You will encounter it if you stay here,’ sighed Margery. ‘The squires are relentless in their pursuit of pretty lasses, who are so eager to win rich and handsome husbands that they will do anything to get one. Mishaps are distressingly frequent.’
Even more reason to go home quickly then, thought Bartholomew.
The physician was glad to leave the Lady in Margery’s solicitous hands. He hurried out of the palace, and began to hunt for Michael and Langelee. He tracked them down to the outer bailey, where they were talking to Marishal.
‘Normally, we would be happy to accommodate you,’ the steward was saying. ‘But Albon brought a sizeable retinue with him, while whole swathes of the castle have been put ready for the Queen, so are currently off limits to guests. We have no room for unexpected visitors.’
‘It does not matter,’ lied Michael. ‘We have had several other offers, all from folk who are frantic to win an association with Michaelhouse – for the fabulous benefits it will bring them.’
‘Then you will be far more comfortable than your friends from Clare Hall,’ said Marishal slyly. ‘When they saw how cramped we are, they wanted to room at the Swan, but how can I put them to work for the Lady if they are away in the town? I insisted that they stay in the Oxford Tower instead. Unfortunately, no one likes it there, as the paroquets occupy the top floor, and they can be very noisy.’
As if on cue, there was a raucous screech that made the three scholars jump.
‘The ones I am expected to cure,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘What is wrong with them?’
‘Who knows,’ shrugged Marishal. ‘However, I would keep your distance if I were you, for two reasons. First, they can be dangerous. And second, Lichet considers them to be his responsibility, and you do not want to make an enemy of the Red Devil.’
‘Then that is too bad, because Bartholomew will see them today,’ determined Langelee, who cared nothing for danger, so tended to assume that others did not either. ‘The Lady told him to cure them, and we cannot afford … I mean we have no wish to annoy her by ignoring a direct order.’
Marishal’s expression turned crafty. ‘Then ask Lichet’s permission. He will refuse, and when the Lady asks why Bartholomew has disobeyed her, you can report that Lichet declined to accommodate him. It is high time she was irked with the rogue.’
‘Perhaps it is,’ said Michael. ‘But I do not see why we should be the agents of it – not if he is the kind of man we do not want as an enemy.’
Marishal smiled thinly. ‘It would be worth your while. He is unpopular here, and any number of courtiers would love to see him fall from grace. Indeed, they might be so pleased that they would make generous donations to your College.’