‘We do no such thing!’ said William angrily. ‘It is a Friday, and we never eat meat on Fridays.’
‘That means they have dog on other days,’ whispered Honynge. ‘You will have to watch them.’ He turned and walked away, having achieved the impossible: leaving William at a loss for words.
When the servants had rearranged the benches to face the high table, the students began to take their places. The hall was rather full that morning, especially given that term had not yet started, because of the twenty new students. Honynge’s seven, Tyrington’s three and Lynton’s two were sitting together at the back, while the eight who had been chosen from the sodden hopefuls chose the front rows, eager to prove themselves to their new teachers.
‘I shall preside,’ announced Honynge, elbowing Langelee unceremoniously from the dais. ‘As I am obliged to be here, I may as well be in charge.’
Langelee’s eyes narrowed. ‘Watch who you push around, man – unless you want to be pushed back. At Michaelhouse, people shove the Master at their peril.’
Langelee had a way of sounding pugilistic even when he was trying to be pleasant, and when there was genuine menace in his voice, folk tended not to argue with him. Honynge nodded a prudent apology, and began to pace back and forth in front of the high table. When he spoke, his ringing voice silenced the rumble of conversation in the hall.
‘The subject we shall debate is: frequens legum mutato est periculosa. Who will translate?’
‘I will,’ said Deynman, leaping to his feet with one of his guileless smiles. ‘It means “frequently asking vegetables to remain mute makes them very discontented”.’
‘Lord!’ groaned Bartholomew. ‘He knows even less Latin now than when he first arrived.’
Falmeresham and his cronies were sniggering, although the new students were too unsure of themselves to join in. Langelee nodded, suggesting that he found Deynman’s interpretation perfectly acceptable, while Wynewyk and Michael were uneasy, anticipating that Honynge’s inevitable scorn would bring about a quarrel. William looked puzzled and Tyrington was regarding Deynman warily, not sure what to think.
‘No, Deynman,’ said Honynge, surprisingly gently. ‘Although you have correctly identified the verb and the noun, which is to be commended. However, the proper translation is: a too frequent alteration of the laws is dangerous.’ Here he looked meaningfully at Michael.
‘By laws, do you mean Statutes?’ asked the monk icily.
Honynge shrugged. ‘Changing the University’s Statutes to suit townsmen’s pockets is not a good idea, and I shall vote against it.’
‘I agree with your sentiments,’ said William. ‘But loyalty to colleagues comes first, and you should back Michael’s attempts to placate these landlords.’
‘I shall not,’ declared Honynge. ‘I shall vote as my conscience dictates. However, our students will not learn much today if all they do is hear us squabble. Let us begin this disputation.’
‘He is a sharp-tongued cur,’ whispered Langelee to Bartholomew, as the Fellows retreated to the back of the hall, leaving Honynge and Tyrington at the front. ‘I cannot say I like him.’
‘It was your decision to elect the man,’ said Bartholomew, feeling the Master had a lot to answer for. ‘If you had taken Carton, Michaelhouse would still be a haven of peace.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Michael, overhearing. ‘He has odd habits, too – such as going out after the curfew and declining to say where.’
‘Tyrington is all right, though,’ said Langelee. ‘I am not keen on his leering and slobbering, but at least I do not feel the urge to plunge a blade in his gizzard every time he opens his mouth. It is a good thing Honynge does not sit next to me at meals, because I would not like my appetite spoiled by an effusion of blood.’
Bartholomew regarded him uncomfortably, not sure how much was humour and how much heartfelt desire. ‘Michael will find a non-violent solution to the problem. Just give him time.’
‘He has too many other things to worry about – finding Lynton’s killer, ending the rent war, averting trouble brought about by Arderne. He cannot manage Honynge, too.’
‘Oh, yes he can,’ said Michael firmly. ‘Especially if it transpires that Honynge killed Lynton.’
Langelee was alarmed. ‘I sincerely hope that is not the case! If it is, Peterhouse might demand compensation from us – for the murder of one of their Fellows by one of ours.’
‘The crime was committed while Honynge was still at Zachary,’ said Michael. ‘It had nothing to do with us.’
‘But Zachary no longer exists,’ Langelee pointed out. ‘Candelby reclaimed it yesterday, the moment Honynge and his students vacated. He grabbed Tyrington’s hostel, too, and a wealthy goldsmith is already installed there. He must be delighted, because Tyrington was not due to leave Piron until September.’
‘Piron was well maintained,’ said Bartholomew, recalling the sumptuous building. ‘It needed no repairs before it could be leased again, so I am not surprised Candelby has filled it quickly.’
‘Zachary is the same,’ said Langelee. ‘It is a bit shabby on the outside, but the inside was always clean and neat. I imagine Honynge and Tyrington were ideal tenants from that standpoint.’
‘Here we go,’ said Michael, breaking into their discussion. ‘The disputation begins.’
‘I like your notion, Deynman,’ said Honynge, smiling pleasantly at the student. ‘The topic of a debate is irrelevant, and what is important is our ability to present coherent, logical arguments. In fact, I would suggest that debating the absurd requires greater skill than topics with which we are familiar. So, as president, I have decided that the subject will be the one Deynman has mooted: Let us enquire whether frequently asking vegetables to remain mute makes them very discontented.’
The students laughed.
‘We cannot debate that,’ cried William, aghast. ‘I do not understand what it means!’
‘That is part of the exercise,’ explained Tyrington, not bothering to hide his exasperation with a man who should have known better. ‘You must define your terms. And then an opponent will challenge them.’
Falmeresham stepped up to propose that vegetables disliked being asked to remain silent, and although his analysis had the hall ringing with laughter, his logic was impeccable. When he had finished, Tyrington put the opposite side of the argument. It was a lively debate, and Honynge was careful to let each student have his say, even Deynman. When someone made a mistake, it was highlighted patiently and kindly; Bartholomew wished Honynge was as considerate of his senior colleagues.
Tyrington’s enthusiasm was infectious, so there was very little wandering of attention. When Carton – the only one of the assembled scholars who did not seem to be enjoying himself – began to gaze out of the window, Tyrington balled up a fragment of parchment and pitched it, hitting the commoner plumb in the centre of the forehead. Carton spun around with a start, and the other students smiled at his confusion. When Tyrington scored another direct hit a few moments later, Bartholomew suspected he had honed the skill to perfection: Carton glared at Tyrington, his normally bland face dark with fury.
‘Damn!’ murmured Michael. ‘They are both skilled teachers. I expected Honynge to be pompous and overbearing, but the students like him. And Tyrington’s obvious love of learning has even enthused my dispassionate Benedictines – I have never seen them so animated. What a nuisance! I was hoping to use incompetence as a means to be rid of Honynge, but now I cannot.’
‘Damn indeed,’ said William. ‘We shall have to think of something else, because I do not want him in my College. He is a vile creature – probably a secret Dominican.’