‘Eudo?’ asked Michael. ‘The absconded tenant of Merton Hall, who robs the good citizens of Cambridge and hides his booty in a cistern?’
‘Not according to him. He says he is innocent, and that the University fabricated the evidence against him because we are all corrupt and love to treat townsmen badly. He fled from the Square before the Sheriff could catch him, but he was very vocal in his denials.’
‘Damn!’ muttered Michael. ‘This is not good news – not so close to the Visitation. I have a bad feeling Weasenham’s predictions might be right, and someone really is trying to harm us.’
‘Never mind the Archbishop,’ said Bartholomew, worried. ‘If rioting does occur, then people are going to be killed or maimed. I do not want that to happen, whether Islip is here to see it or not.’
‘Polmorva,’ said Paxtone uneasily. ‘Is he trying to destroy us? Oxford has already been brought low, and if we are suppressed for violence, it means his new university will have a better chance of success. Winchester and Haverhill are lovely places, but I do not want them to flourish at our expense. Something must be done to stop him.’
‘If it is him,’ said Michael unhappily. ‘We have no evidence, other than the suspicion that he would like to found a rival studium generale, which is hardly damning. What do you think, Matt? Is he the kind of man to destroy two towns for personal gain?’
‘Yes,’ answered Bartholomew without hesitation. ‘But that does not mean to say he has actually done it.’
‘I must go,’ said Lee, edging away. ‘Rougham sent word that he will arrive home from Norfolk soon, and I need to clean his clyster pipes. He will be angry if they are not spotless.’
‘His imminent return is good news, Lee,’ said Paxtone pleasantly. ‘You must miss him.’
‘Actually, I prefer it when he is not here,’ said Lee baldly. ‘But he is coming back, and there is not much I can do, except make sure his pipes are shiny. I do my best, but he is never satisfied.’
‘I can imagine,’ said Bartholomew wryly. ‘I have the same experience with him myself.’
Lee strode away, while Paxtone invited Bartholomew and Michael to King’s Hall for a cup of wine before the requiem mass, saying he had something he wanted to discuss. Michael accepted before Bartholomew could decline, and Paxtone took them to the refectory, where a pot of ale mulled over a brazier. He poured goblets for his guests, then led them to a table where some of the other Fellows sat. Dodenho was among them, holding forth on some aspect of philosophy that he claimed to have developed, while Wormynghalle was trying to look interested. She brightened when Paxtone, Bartholomew and Michael arrived.
Bartholomew grinned conspiratorially. ‘You are looking especially manly this afternoon,’ he said in an undertone.
She smiled. ‘I rubbed oil into my hair to make it look greasy, and invested in a roll of material to bind my body. Now no one will feel what lies beneath when I slip on wine and a well-meaning physician dives forward to save me.’
‘I am pleased to be here,’ said Michael, settling on a bench and shaking his head when Paxtone offered him a plate of pastries. Bartholomew wondered whether he was unwell. ‘I want to talk to you all about something.’
Dodenho looked pleased. ‘You want me to give another University Lecture. My last one was very well received, and a number of people have asked when the next will be.’
‘So they can avoid it,’ whispered Wormynghalle to Bartholomew. ‘But he is so convinced of his scholarly prowess that he does not realise they are insulting him. Duraunt from Merton Hall said his lecture was enough to make the angels weep, and Dodenho interpreted it as meaning the heavenly hosts would shed tears of admiration at the power of his arguments!’
‘Is he really so stupid?’ asked Bartholomew, regarding the preening scholar wonderingly. ‘Or is it all an act, and he is actually more clever than we think?’
Wormynghalle considered. ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘He really does believe he is Cambridge’s answer to Roger Bacon. And speaking of Bacon, what do you think of his contention that-?’
‘My question does concern King’s Hall,’ said Michael to the others, loud enough to distract her. ‘But it is not about public lectures – it is about Hamecotes, who abandoned his duties without permission, and went to buy books. He claims to have purchased Heytesbury’s Regulae from Merton. However, Duraunt informs me that Merton never sells its books, because they are too valuable a commodity. Hamecotes was lying.’
‘We know,’ said Paxtone, taking the wind out of Michael’s sails. ‘It is why I asked you to come here and share a cup of wine with us.’ He swallowed uneasily, and glanced at his two companions. ‘We had hoped to keep the matter quiet, given the disgrace it might bring to our College, but you are a sensible man and I am sure we can rely on your discretion.’
Michael narrowed his eyes. ‘Why do I sense I am going to hear something I will not like?’
‘Probably because you are,’ said Wormynghalle softly. She grimaced, as if the subject was painful for her. ‘You see, Hamecotes is not in Oxford. He is here.’
‘Here?’ asked Michael, startled. ‘Well, I have written his absence in the University records now, and I cannot erase it. When did he return? Or are you going to tell me he never went?’
‘We do not know whether he went,’ said Wormynghalle. ‘Although he sent us those letters, so I am inclined to believe that he stopped there briefly, even if it was not his intended destination. We discovered him an hour ago, which is why we have not yet had time to do anything official.’
‘Send him to see me,’ said Michael sternly. ‘He owes two marks for being absent without leave, and we could do with the money before the Visitation.’
‘It is not that simple,’ said Wormynghalle. She looked at Paxtone and Dodenho. ‘I do not know how to explain this.’
‘I do,’ said Paxtone. He stood and indicated that Michael and Bartholomew should follow him. ‘The easiest way is to show-’
‘No!’ cried Dodenho, also coming to his feet. ‘Do not make the situation worse than it is! Just tell them in a few words. They do not need all the grisly details.’
‘I will not lie,’ said Paxtone wearily, as if they had debated the matter too long already. ‘We must do what is right, and Brother Michael is the Senior Proctor. I do not want King’s Hall to become the centre of rumours and speculation when we have done nothing wrong.’
‘King’s Hall is not what I am worried about,’ said Wormynghalle unhappily, indicating that Paxtone was to sit again. ‘It is Hamecotes. I am obliged, as his room-mate, to protect him . . .’
‘I am more concerned with the impact it might have on my scholarly musings,’ said Dodenho. ‘People might not want to read texts scribed by a man whose College …well, you know.’
‘I do not,’ said Michael loudly. ‘What has Hamecotes done that is so dreadful?’
‘It is better just to show him,’ said Paxtone, raising his hand to quell the objections of his younger colleagues. ‘Michael and Matt are friends, and will help us resolve this unfortunate matter quietly and discreetly. Besides, they will not tell anyone else, because of the Visitation.’
Dodenho sighed. ‘Very well, but you had better be right. If this misfires, I shall be cross.’
‘Cross?’ cried Wormynghalle in disbelief. ‘Well, in that case we had better redouble our efforts. Hamecotes may be disgraced and the College shamed, but it would be worse if you were cross!’
Paxtone laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder that made her flinch, while Dodenho merely looked bemused, as if he could not imagine what he had said wrong. Bartholomew and Michael followed Paxtone to the door, the physician doing so reluctantly, not sure he wanted to know what was about to be revealed.