‘Go, then, Brother,’ said de Wetherset with an amiable smile. ‘But visit the Jewry first, because a spat was brewing there when we walked past, and you should stamp it out before it erupts. Meanwhile, I shall heed your advice and return to St Mary the Great, where I will remain until all the fuss dies down. What about you, Aynton?’
‘Oh, I shall be here and there,’ replied the Commissary airily, ‘healing rifts and urging everyone to be nice to each other. Or would you rather I stayed with you, Chancellor?’
‘No, keeping the peace is more important,’ replied de Wetherset. ‘Heltisle?’
‘I shall go home,’ said Heltisle grimly. ‘If there is to be a battle, I want Bene’t ready to defend its rights and privileges.’
‘Preparing for a skirmish is hardly the example our Vice-Chancellor should be setting,’ began Michael sharply. ‘It is not–’
‘Oh, yes, it is!’ interrupted Heltisle. ‘And if Michaelhouse does not do the same, it will reveal you to be cowards and traitors.’
‘Michaelhouse will do what is right,’ countered Michael. ‘And that does not include indulging in unseemly acts of violence against the town.’
Although Bartholomew itched to race to St Radegund’s at once, events conspired against him. First, there was the quarrel in the Jewry to defuse, then Michael insisted on freeing Meadowman. Bartholomew fretted at the lost time, feeling the crisis loom closer with every lost moment.
When they arrived at the gaol, Michael was appalled to discover that all the rioters he had arrested had been released without charge. Their places had been taken not just by Meadowman, but by half a dozen other beadles who had also refused to obey Heltisle.
‘He wanted us to guard his College rather than patrol the streets,’ said Meadowman indignantly as Michael let him out. ‘He thinks it will be targeted in the event of trouble, because it houses one of the University’s top officials. I pointed out that Bene’t has high walls, stout gates and warrior-students, so can look after itself.’
‘Whereas the hostels have no protection at all,’ growled another man. ‘Other than us.’
‘He should not have released the prisoners either,’ Meadowman went on angrily, ‘although half were Bene’t lads, so what do you expect? Now they will hare off to foment more unrest, while Heltisle’s Horde looks on like the useless rabble they are.’
‘You cannot return to normal duties now,’ said Michael. ‘Heltisle will just rearrest you. So don everyday clothes, monitor what is happening, and report back to me.’
‘We can report to you now,’ said Meadowman grimly. ‘The town believes the University aims to crush it into penury; the University thinks the town intends to destroy it once and for all; and everyone is convinced the Dauphin is poised to do to us what he did to Winchelsea – with the connivance of either the town or the University, depending on which side you are on.’
‘Then identify the ringleaders and shut them up,’ ordered Michael. ‘You may lock them in their cellars, hand them to the Sheriff, or threaten them in any way you please. Perhaps the trouble will fizzle out if they are muzzled.’
The beadles did not look hopeful, but sped away to do his bidding. Their disquiet and Michael’s grim expression combined to make Bartholomew’s stomach churn more than ever.
‘Dusk,’ predicted the monk hoarsely. ‘That is when the crisis will come. Tempers will fester all day, and as soon as darkness cloaks everyone with anonymity, we will go to war.’
‘There must be a way to stop it. We have averted catastrophes before.’
‘But that was when I was in charge,’ Michael pointed out bitterly. ‘Now we have the triumvirate, who undermine all my efforts to restore calm. Heltisle accuses me of wielding too much power, but what about him? He seems to have gone mad with it.’
They resumed their journey to St Radegund’s, but met Tulyet by the Barnwell Gate. The Sheriff was astride his massive warhorse, and had donned full armour. The men who rode with him were similarly attired.
‘I have done my best to quash the rumours about French spies in the Spital,’ he said, reining in. ‘But it is only a matter of time before the whispers start again and folk march out there to besiege it. I have ordered Leger to spirit the Tangmers and their guests away the moment it is dark.’
‘Perhaps he should do it now,’ said Bartholomew worriedly.
Tulyet shot him a scornful glance. ‘Then there will be a massacre for certain, because they will be seen by the mob already outside. He needs the cover of night to succeed.’
‘Can you trust him to do it?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘He agreed to protect the buildings, not the people inside.’
‘He will do it or answer to the King,’ replied Tulyet savagely. ‘Besides, once the Spital folk are safe, I hope our warring factions will converge on the place, as I would sooner that bore the brunt of their destructive fury than the town.’
‘You seem to think a clash is inevitable, but we still hope to avert one. Michael and I are going to see Abbess Isabel, who may have killed Orwel and perhaps the others, too. An arrest may appease–’
‘It is far too late for that,’ interrupted Tulyet harshly. ‘Any hope of a peaceful resolution disappeared when the University chose to renege on its trade deals. So, yes, there will be a clash, and you brought it about.’
‘Not us,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘The triumvirate.’
Tulyet shook his head in disgust. ‘I thought we had cast aside our differences and were moving towards a lasting peace, but it was all based on the sense and goodwill of one man. Now others are in charge …’
One of his knights – a rough, hard-bitten warrior who had never approved of Tulyet’s efforts to befriend the University – spat. ‘We will never have peace with scholars, and unless we take a firm stand against them today, they will crush us for ever.’
‘He is right,’ said Tulyet sourly, watching him wheel away to bear down on a group of tanners who were preparing to lob stones at someone’s windows. ‘I have signed away rights in exchange for amity, and so have you, Brother. Perhaps we should not have done.’
‘Of course you should,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Neither of us is going anywhere, so we have no choice but to work together, and if that means making compromises, then so be it.’
‘What about the Jacques?’ asked Michael. ‘Have they been found yet?’
Tulyet shook his head. ‘But if they are here, whispering poisonous messages in susceptible ears, I will hang them. Now, go to St Radegund’s if you must, but do not be long. You will be more useful here than chasing killers who no longer matter.’
Bartholomew glanced up at the sky as they hurried on, wishing it would rain. No one liked getting wet, and inclement weather would drive most would-be rioters indoors. Unfortunately, the clouds were breaking up and it promised to be another fine day.
‘It is about noon,’ said Michael, wrongly thinking he was estimating the time. ‘Which means we have just a few hours before the trouble begins in earnest. We must hurry.’
They passed through the Barnwell Gate unchallenged, as the sentries were patrolling the streets instead. This allowed folk to pour in from the outlying villages. Few carried goods to sell, and Bartholomew realised that word had spread about the brewing unrest, so they were coming to stand with the townsfolk. Tulyet was right: a clash was now inevitable.
They arrived at the convent to find the nuns just finishing a session on the burning issue of whether peas were better served with fish or meat.
‘We spent four times longer on that than on apostolic poverty – a debate that has tied the Church in knots for years,’ smirked Magistra Katherine. ‘We resolved that inconsequential problem in less than an hour!’