‘It is rather more complex than that,’ countered Michael irritably. ‘The statutes–’
‘The statutes are a lot of silly decrees designed to impede progress,’ stated Hopeman belligerently. ‘If I were Chancellor, I would scrap them.’
‘Then it is fortunate for us that you are never likely to be in office,’ retorted Michael coolly. He loved the minutiae of the University’s rulebooks, and never tired of poring over them to extract interpretations that allowed him to get his own way.
‘And we do need them, Hopeman,’ said Lyng with a pleasant smile. ‘Without our rubrics, we should have anarchy. Besides, they have served us well for a hundred and fifty years. They need a little tweaking now and again, to bring them in line with changing requirements, but they are fundamentally sound.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Michael firmly.
‘A hundred and fifty years?’ scoffed Hopeman. ‘Fool! Our University is much older. It was founded by King Arthur, just a year after Our Lord’s glorious Resurrection.’
‘I see history is not your forte,’ drawled Michael, then turned back to Lyng before the Dominican could respond. ‘As I was saying, it will take several weeks to arrange an election, but until then, I shall assume the mantle of Chancellor. I have–’
‘Why?’ interrupted Hopeman aggressively. ‘You just told us that you will not stand.’
‘I will not,’ said Michael, struggling for patience. ‘But I shall plug the breach until Tynkell’s replacement is in post. Then I will step down.’
‘Are you sure you can manage his duties, as well as your own?’ asked Lyng worriedly. ‘We have grown so rapidly over the last year that to undertake both will be a very heavy burden. As an ex-Chancellor myself, I know what I am talking about.’
‘I agree,’ nodded Hopeman. ‘So we should hold an election immediately.’
Michael glared at him. ‘It is inappropriate to discuss such matters while Tynkell is still warm,’ he said curtly. ‘Nothing can or will happen until he is decently laid to rest.’
‘But that might take an age, Brother,’ said Lyng. ‘I helped him to write his will, so I know for a fact that he left funds for a tomb to be built in St Mary the Great. It will be weeks – perhaps even months – before that is ready to receive his mortal remains.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Michael flatly. ‘What a pity.’
But Hopeman had the bit between his teeth. ‘Tynkell became irrelevant the moment he breathed his last. It is the University that is important now, not him. Ergo, we shall have our ballot in a few days. I shall stand myself, of course. Our studium generale will flourish under a devout man like me.’
His zealots murmured agreement, although Lyng was visibly alarmed by the prospect of Hopeman in charge. Foundations tended to be loyal to fellow members, so Hopeman should have been able to count on the support of anyone from Maud’s. Lyng, however, was cognisant of his University’s best interests.
‘Then I had better put myself forward, too,’ he said. ‘I have plenty of experience at the post, and people will vote for me.’
He had been a popular Chancellor, who had managed to lead without being a tyrant – unlike, it had to be said, Michael – so it was entirely possible that he would be elected for a fourth term. Bartholomew was relieved that there would be at least one sensible alternative to the rabid Dominican, although Hopeman was outraged at the ‘betrayal’, and Michael made a moue of annoyance.
‘I saw you both with Tynkell earlier today,’ said the monk, pointedly turning the discussion back to the man whose shoes they aimed to fill, ‘and I know he was fond of Maud’s. I do not suppose he mentioned an intention to climb up to the tower roof, did he?’
‘He never talked about his University duties,’ replied Lyng. ‘He used to, when he was first appointed, but that stopped after a couple of months. I occasionally raised the subject, but he always maintained that it was too important for idle chatter.’
‘That was because he had no idea what was happening,’ scoffed Hopeman. ‘You never confided in him, Brother, so he was as much in the dark as the rest of us.’
‘So no, he did not mention the tower,’ continued Lyng, shooting the Dominican a look that warned him to moderate his tongue. ‘He just said that he had a lot of work to do today, because you had left a great pile of deeds on his desk.’
‘He also said he was looking forward to retiring, and being free of your bullying ways,’ put in Hopeman spitefully. ‘But I cannot stand here all day. I have an election to win.’
He strode away, his followers twittering excitedly at his heels.
‘Are his zealots members of Maud’s?’ asked Michael, looking after them disapprovingly. ‘They do not seem like the kind of lad you usually recruit.’
‘They are deacons from the parish churches,’ replied Lyng, ‘whom Hopeman aims to turn into younger versions of himself. We try to dissuade him from grooming fanatics, but you know what he is like – not a man to listen to reason. But I had better go, too. He will not waste a moment before he starts campaigning, so neither should I.’
‘I shall have scant time for manipulating elections if I am to perform Tynkell’s duties as well as my own,’ grumbled Michael, when he and Bartholomew were alone again. ‘Not to mention finding his killer. Damn Hopeman! His impatience is a nuisance.’
‘He will not win,’ predicted Bartholomew, hiding his amusement at Michael’s bald admission that he intended to cheat. ‘Lyng is far more popular. So is Thelnetham.’
‘Thelnetham?’ echoed Michael. ‘I do not want him, thank you very much. He will want to ignore my advice and rule alone.’
‘Then stand yourself. It is the only sure way of keeping your power.’
‘But I do not want to be Chancellor! It would be wrong to put myself forward, only to leave a couple of months later.’
‘A couple of months?’ Bartholomew regarded his friend intently. ‘That letter from the Bishop – what did it really say?’
Michael grimaced. ‘I did not want to tell anyone yet, lest there is a hiccup, but this will force my hand. De Lisle has arranged for me to be offered a See. He told me to expect a messenger confirming the appointment in the next few days.’
Bartholomew was delighted for him. ‘That is excellent news, Brother! Which diocese?’
‘I do not know yet. However, I would be happier with my good fortune if I were not afraid for my University. I do not want it in the hands of a lunatic like Hopeman, while Lyng is too old, and Thelnetham has no experience. Lord! What a terrible day this is transpiring to be.’
‘Especially for Tynkell,’ said Bartholomew soberly.
Bartholomew was a very busy man. He had more students than he could realistically teach, plus an enormous medical practice – far larger than the town’s other physicians, who tended to confine themselves to tending the wealthy elite. Thus while the monk questioned more witnesses, he hurried back to Michaelhouse, not sure whether the rest of his day would be spent teaching or seeing patients.
He arrived to discover several urgent summonses, so he left his classes a daunting number of texts to learn – a list that elicited horrified exclamations, although he genuinely failed to understand why there was a problem, when he could read twice that amount in the allocated time – collected his final-year students, and set off on his rounds.
His first patient was Isnard the bargeman, whose leg he had once been obliged to amputate after an accident with a cart. Isnard had adapted well to the loss of his limb, but the episode had not taught him to be more careful, and Bartholomew was called at least once a week to tend cuts and bruises, many sustained during nights of riotous fun in the town’s less salubrious taverns.