‘And what brought about this abrupt change?’ asked Matilde suspiciously. ‘Only a week ago, they were prepared to tear each others’ heads off in St Mary’s Church.’
‘Lent is over,’ said Michael. ‘The sun is shining and the spring flowers are out. People are happier. And there are no more of those silly meetings of Walcote’s; they hardly poured oil on troubled waters. Lincolne’s death has helped, too. The Dominicans believe that one of Lincolne’s own students made an end of him, and consider justice to have been done for both Kyrkeby and Faricius. I cannot imagine how they arrived at such a conclusion, personally.’
Bartholomew said nothing.
‘And once I appoint William as my Junior Proctor, I shall be able to relax again,’ continued Michael, leaning back and holding out his cup to Matilde to be refilled. ‘I am expecting a large consignment of cheese in a few days, and I want to be able to appreciate it without rushing off to see to students with broken heads and bloody knuckles. William can do that.’
‘Cheese?’ asked Bartholomew cautiously. ‘This would have nothing to do with Heytesbury’s deed, would it? Richard claimed you wanted it signed so that you could dine on fine cheese and butter. Do not tell me he was right!’
‘Of course that was not why I wanted it signed,’ said Michael. Then his large face broke into a grin of happy anticipation. ‘But it is certainly one of its advantages.’
Historical Note
THROUGHOUT MEDIEVAL TIMES, CAMBRIDGE WAS FRAUGHT with disputes of one kind or another. Some occurred when the townsfolk took exception to the influence and sway held by the University in a town that was really very small by modern standards; others happened when specific factions within the University took against each other. A number of these are recorded in historical documents, including a very serious contention in 1374, when the Dominicans and Carmelites were on opposite sides of a theological debate. One John Horneby was the spokesman for the Carmelites. Riots and civil disorder followed, and even the Pope was drawn into the argument.
The religious Orders comprised a large percentage of the student body in the University, although it did not mean that their students were saintly men dedicated to a life of learning or devoted to the service of others. Many were sent to Cambridge to acquire a basic education before taking positions in the King’s courts or high-ranking posts in the Church – indeed, some Orders were obliged to send a specific percentage of their friars to one or other of the universities. It is certain that some of the alliances formed in the friaries formed the basis of an ‘old boys’ club’, where favours were given to former acquaintances.
The Franciscans, in particular, were often accused of preying on the younger students and encouraging them to join their Order. Some of their converts were as young as fourteen, although most were in their late teens. It is not unreasonable to suppose that controlling large bodies of active young men was extremely difficult, and that this alone led to at least some of the trouble with the other Orders and the town’s apprentices.
Cambridge in the fourteenth century was a small but busy town, with relatively good road and water communications. By the mid-1350s, it had eight Colleges – King’s Hall, Michaelhouse, Peterhouse, Gonville Hall, Trinity Hall, Bene’t College, the Hall of Valence Marie and Clare – along with a number of hostels and several friaries. Entry to the town was controlled by two gates (Barnwell and Trumpington) and two sets of bridges (Great Bridge and Small Bridges).
The Great Bridge had a turbulent history. There had been a crossing of the River Cam at this point since prehistoric times, and a newer, stronger bridge had been erected after William the Conqueror had raised his motte and bailey castle in 1068. By 1279 the bridge was in a poor state of repair, and a tax was levied on the townsfolk to pay for a new one. When the money was raised, the Sheriff simply declined to build a new structure, and instead made superficial repairs to the old one. Evidence indicates that any remaining funds found their way into his own pocket. Complaints about the state of the bridge continued until well into the fifteenth century, and it was common practice for soldiers from the Castle to remove parts of it so that would-be travellers were obliged to use the soldiers’ ferries.
The University, founded in the early years of the thirteenth century, grew in importance and influence throughout the Middle Ages. Among its most notable public occasions were its debates, and many were held in St Mary’s Church, which was the only building large enough to house everyone who wanted to attend. They occurred at regular intervals throughout the year, and it was considered a great honour to be invited to speak at one.
Contemporary accounts indicate that some subjects were more popular for these occasions than others. The possibility of life on other planets did not seem to interest medieval scholars much, and little is recorded of their speculations on the matter. When life on other worlds was considered, it was usually in the form of parallel universes – that is that there are universes identical to our own that exist simultaneously. The possibility of encountering little green men was apparently not something that inspired much serious discussion.
It is not possible to say whether the debate that raged in the fourteenth century between the realists and the nominalists ever led to violence. It was, however, a highly contentious issue, and dominated almost every aspect of teaching, from theology and natural philosophy to rhetoric and grammar. It was an old argument, originating with Aristotle and Plato, but it was revived in the 1300s by the Franciscan scholar, William of Occam. Occam was a student of the Oxford master Duns Scotus (the derogative word ‘dunce’ is derived from his name), who was a leading proponent of realism. Occam disagreed with his teacher, and spent a good part of his life in Europe being criticised by various popes. He died somewhere around 1349, possibly from the plague.
The debate did not die with Occam, and a group of like-minded scholars began to gather in the Oxford college of Merton. Men like William Heytesbury, Richard Swineshead and John Dumbleton were leading thinkers of their day, although little of their work has survived. Heytesbury’s Regulae Solvendi Sophismata, however, is a remarkable text, covering a wide range of philosophical issues as well as defining uniform speed and uniformly accelerated motion. These definitions were used and accepted by Galileo. Heytesbury and his colleagues even developed the mean speed theorem, which is perhaps the most outstanding medieval contribution to mathematical physics.
Not much is known about Heytesbury, other than that he was bursar of Merton in 1338, and that he was old when he became Chancellor of Oxford University in 1371. These dates alone indicate that he lived a long and successful life.
John Clippesby and Thomas Suttone were members of Michaelhouse in the 1350s, and Ralph de Langelee was its Master. Thomas Kenyngham, one of Michaelhouse’s founding members, had ceased to be Master by 1354, and had probably resigned. The University’s Chancellor was a man named William Tynkell.
In 1354, records show that the Prior of the Dominicans was probably William de Morden, while other Dominicans at around that time include Henry de Kyrkeby, Robert de Bulmer and Thomas Ringstead. Ringstead was a professor of theology in 1349, and was Bishop of Bangor by 1357. He died in 1366, leaving his Cambridge convent £20 and a couple of religious books.
The Warden of the Franciscans in 1354 was probably William Pechem, while John de Daventre is mentioned in a document dated to 1348.