‘And I have a sour stomach,’ agreed Langelee. ‘Return the barrel and demand a refund.’
‘I would, but there is none left to prove our point,’ said Michael. ‘I imagine the students finished it after we went to bed. After all, the seven of us cannot have emptied it alone.’
‘The five of you,’ corrected Bartholomew. ‘And you did.’
‘I think we had better let Kolvyle take our classes this morning,’ said Langelee, hand to his middle. ‘I am not well enough to teach, and if you are suffering similar symptoms …’
‘That is a good idea,’ said Suttone weakly. His portly features were grey-green above a vomit-flecked habit. It was rumpled, too, suggesting he had slept in it, and had risen too late to change. ‘I feel dreadful.’
‘I suppose I can oblige,’ said Kolvyle grudgingly. He was freshly shaven, his hair was brushed, and he was wearing clean clothes. Just the sight of him made his older colleagues feel worn, jaded and very shabby. ‘After all, we do not want the students to complain. None of you are decent teachers on a good day, so after a night of intemperate hedonism …’
‘I am much respected in the lecture hall,’ objected Suttone, albeit feebly. ‘Indeed, I promised my lads a discourse on reductio ad absurdum today, which is no easy topic. Of course, I cannot recall what I planned to say, exactly …’
‘Your thesis was that Ethel the chicken must weigh something, or she would spend all her time floating in the air,’ supplied Clippesby, who held the bird in question in his arms. His eyes were glazed, and he wore the silly grin that indicated he was still drunk. ‘You will base your argument on the fact that denial of the assertion will have a ridiculous result. In other words, it will demonstrate this very common form of logical argument.’
‘I know what reductio ad absurdum means, Clippesby,’ said Suttone irritably. ‘But was that really the example I intended to use? Lord! I had better find another, or my lads will think I have lost my reason.’
‘They will,’ agreed Kolvyle spitefully. ‘Clearly, it would be better if you all left this morning’s work to me. I will not let our pupils down.’
He flounced away, startling Langelee and his Fellows by opening the gate and walking to church by himself. Allowing the Master to lead the way was not a written rule, but it was a custom everyone followed, and all were astonished that Kolvyle should have chosen to flout it.
‘I hope we did not do anything embarrassing last night,’ said Suttone uneasily. ‘Especially in front of him. I recall very little after the Master stood on the table and recited that poem about the nuns and the dragon, and it would be a pity if our night of levity damaged my chances of being Chancellor. Kolvyle is the kind of man to gossip about any … indiscretions.’
‘It was quite a night,’ grinned William, who looked much as he usually did, given that he was not a clean man to start with, so any new spillages were difficult to detect. ‘I cannot recall the last time we enjoyed ourselves so.’
‘We had much to celebrate,’ smiled Michael. ‘My See and Suttone’s chancellorship.’
‘Suttone may not win,’ warned Bartholomew. ‘Lyng has the support of the hostels, and that is where most votes lie. It will not be easy to defeat him.’
‘I thought the same, but Michael says he has a plan.’ Suttone beamed suddenly. ‘I shall like being Chancellor even more if he is not here to push me around. I am doubly delighted that he is leaving.’
Michael’s expression darkened. ‘I most certainly will tell you what to do! I shall be watching your every move like a hawk.’
‘How?’ asked Bartholomew curiously. ‘You will be in Rochester.’
‘I have my ways,’ replied Michael mysteriously. ‘But do not worry about Lyng, Suttone. No killer will ever hold the post of Chancellor.’
‘Killer?’ echoed Langelee, startled. ‘You mean it was Lyng who made an end of Tynkell and Moleyns? Lord! He seems such a decent fellow, and I have always liked him.’
‘Most people do, which is why he felt free to commit murder,’ said Michael airily. ‘He thinks he is the last man we will accuse, just because he is charming and elderly.’
‘So you have solved the case?’ asked Bartholomew, pleased. ‘You did not mention it last night, but I am glad it is over. I shall teach my lads Maimonides’ Tractus contra passionem asthmatis today. They will prefer that to some tedious monologue from Kolvyle.’
‘I have not solved it exactly,’ hedged Michael, ‘but Lyng is my chief suspect. However, I shall need you to help me to gather the necessary evidence, so Maimonides will have to wait.’
Bartholomew regarded him through narrowed eyes. ‘Do you really think Lyng is the culprit, or have you picked on him because he is Suttone’s most serious rival?’
‘A little of both,’ admitted Michael. ‘But he does have the strongest motive for killing Tynkell – namely dispatching the present incumbent, so that he could be Chancellor once more. It makes sense – he is old, and Tynkell kept delaying his departure.’
‘And that is your scheme to secure me the post?’ asked Suttone worriedly. ‘Accusing Lyng of murder? Is that not unethical?’
‘Not if he is guilty,’ replied Michael glibly. ‘And if he is innocent … well, he will just have to weather the storm as best he can.’
The scholars attended Mass in St Michael’s, although it was not easy to concentrate on their devotions, because Petit arrived and began to prise the damaged lid from Wilson’s tomb. He and his apprentices obviously thought they were being unobtrusive, but there were a lot of loud whispers, much clattering of tools, and they failed to understand the concept of tiptoeing, so their footsteps clattered loudly enough to render some of the rite inaudible.
‘I know I promised to work on Stanmore today,’ the mason said stiffly, when the ceremony was over and Bartholomew went to have words with him. ‘But you cannot expect us to enter the building where Lucas was so vilely killed. At least, not for the foreseeable future.’
‘It was a terrible shock, see,’ added the freckled Peres, sticking out his chin challengingly. ‘So we have decided to concentrate on our other masterpieces for a while.’
‘If you abandon Oswald again, I shall follow my sister’s lead, and make speeches about unreliable craftsmen,’ warned Bartholomew. ‘So think very carefully before doing anything rash.’
Petit shot him a foul look as he left, while young Peres shoved past the physician roughly enough to make him stagger. Then the lad was almost knocked from his own feet when he found himself in Langelee’s path, and the Master did some jostling of his own.
‘I had to hire them,’ said Langelee defensively, as Bartholomew regarded him with silent reproach. ‘Petit is the only monumental mason within a sixty-mile radius. Or do you want Kolvyle to win a claim of compensation against us?’
Bartholomew scowled at him, and they processed home in silence. No one ate much at breakfast, some because their stomachs were still too delicate, and the rest because what was on offer was virtually inedible – the servants had also raised a goblet to Michael’s future success. Agatha the laundress was decidedly fragile, while Cynric had yet to get out of bed.
‘Your lads will enjoy Kolvyle’s lecture, Bartholomew,’ said Langelee, after he had recited a shockingly short final grace, and the students had filed out. ‘He will speak on Gratian’s Decretum, which is always fun. Or so he tells me.’