‘It will have to be Honynge or Tyrington, then,’ said Wynewyk unenthusiastically. ‘Both have their own hostels, but, like all Principals, they are worried about the outcome of this rent war – not all hostels will survive it. Thus they are currently looking for College appointments. I suppose I would opt for Honynge over Tyrington, because Tyrington spits.’
‘You mean he has an excess of phlegm?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘I could devise a remedy–’
‘No, I mean he sprays,’ elaborated Wynewyk with a fastidious shudder. ‘If you stand too close to him when he is speaking, you come away drenched. And he leers, too.’
‘I have never noticed leering – the slobbering is hard to miss,’ said Langelee. ‘What do you think about Honynge?’
‘He does not leer,’ acknowledged Wynewyk. ‘He talks to himself, though.’
‘He certainly does,’ agreed William, picking at a stain on his habit. ‘I asked him about it once – I thought he might be communing with the Devil, and was going to offer him a free exorcism. But he told me he was conversing with the only man in Cambridge capable of matching his intellect.’
Bartholomew was taken aback by the immodest claim. ‘His scholarly reputation is formidable, but there are others who more than match it – Prestone and Hamelyn, to name but two.’
‘It is not Honynge’s vanity that disturbs me,’ said Michael. ‘It is his other gamut of unpleasant traits. I had occasion to deal with him over the death of Wenden – you will recall that Wenden was walking home from visiting Honynge when he was murdered by the tinker. I was obliged to interview Honynge, and I found him arrogant, rude and sly.’
‘He is a condescending ass,’ declared William. ‘However, I do not like the notion of leering, either, as we shall have if we elect Tyrington. It might frighten the students.’
‘We should consider Carton for the post,’ said Bartholomew, thinking of the shy Franciscan who was Falmeresham’s friend. ‘He has been a commoner for a whole term now, and we all know him.’
‘We all like him, too,’ mused Michael. ‘He is not overly argumentative, does not hold too many peculiar religious beliefs, and his keen intelligence will improve our academic standing in the University.’
‘I agree,’ said Langelee. ‘But, unfortunately, now is not a good time to appoint him – he is too upset about Falmeresham. He might skimp his academic duties to go hunting for shadows.’
‘Falmeresham is not a shadow,’ said Bartholomew, more sharply than he had intended. ‘He will return soon – I am sure of it.’
‘Yes, but he might return dead,’ said William baldly. ‘It is obvious that Blankpayn has hidden the body in order to avoid a charge of murder. I am sorry, Matthew, but we must be realistic.’
‘We can still hope for his safe return, though,’ said Wynewyk, seeing the stricken expression on the physician’s face. ‘I have a friend who drinks in Blankpayn’s tavern. I shall visit him this morning, and see if he has noticed signs of recent digging in the garden.’
‘Thank you,’ said Bartholomew, aware that if Wynewyk really expected Falmeresham to come home, he would not be offering to look for shallow graves. Like William, he believed the worst.
‘Unfortunately, we are not in a position to be choosy, not if we want the post filled quickly,’ said Langelee, going to a window and peering into the yard below. ‘The students are waiting for us to lead them to church, so we had better take a vote. Who wants Carton, a man distracted by grief?’
Bartholomew raised his hand, but was the only one who did.
‘And Honynge?’ asked Langelee. ‘Said to be sly, with a preference for his own conversation?’
Wynewyk inclined his head, while William wagged his finger to indicate he was still thinking.
‘If you vote for Honynge, you will regret it,’ warned Michael. ‘When he arrives, and you become more familiar with his disagreeable habits, you will be sorry.’
He should have known better than try to sway William, because the friar rarely took advice, and his grimy paw immediately shot into the air in Honynge’s favour. ‘Some of my students are little more than children, and I do not like the notion of electing a man who might leer at them.’
‘And finally, Tyrington,’ said Langelee, raising his own hand. ‘Alleged to spit and leer.’
Michael lifted a plump arm to indicate his preference, although with scant enthusiasm. Langelee had made none of the candidates sound appealing.
‘Tyrington and Honynge have two votes each, Master,’ said William, lest Langelee could not count that high. ‘That means we are tied, so you must make the final determination.’
Langelee rubbed his jaw as he assessed his options. ‘I am not enamoured of either, to be frank, but we cannot procrastinate or our students will suffer. So, we shall appoint them both.’
‘You cannot do that!’ blurted William, startled. ‘You must make a decision.’
‘I have made a decision,’ snapped Langelee. ‘We were desperately busy last term, with Clippesby and Suttone away, and an extra Fellow will not go amiss.’
‘But admitting Honynge and Tyrington will raise our membership to nine,’ said Bartholomew, puzzled. ‘I thought the College statutes stipulated one Master and seven fellows.’
‘Actually, they do not,’ said Michael, who knew the rules backwards. ‘We have always had that number, but it is tradition, not law. Still, to break a time-honoured custom for Honynge–’
‘But the money,’ objected Wynewyk, more concerned with practical matters than legal ones. ‘How will we pay an additional teacher?’
‘By accepting twenty new students,’ replied Langelee. His prompt reply suggested he had already given the matter some thought. ‘Candelby’s antics have resulted in several hostels being dissolved, and dozens of good scholars are desperate for a home. I can fit four in my quarters, and Bartholomew can take five. The rest of you can divide the remaining nine between yourselves.’
‘It will be cosy,’ said Bartholomew, declining to comment on the Master’s dubious arithmetic.
‘I should say,’ muttered Michael. ‘There is not space in your chamber for a bed and five mattresses, so you will have to sleep in shifts. This is sheer lunacy!’
‘So, it is decided,’ said Langelee, banging his sceptre to indicate the meeting was at an end. ‘We elect Tyrington and Honynge, and we recruit a score of new students – hopefully very rich ones who might be inclined to make regular donations.’
The next phase of the academic year was not due to begin for another ten days, so technically the scholars who had remained in Cambridge during the break between the Lent and summer terms were free to do as they pleased. However, the University did not like groups of bored young men wandering around the town with time on their hands, so hostels and Colleges were expected to find ways to keep them occupied. Michaelhouse’s method was to hold mock disputations in the hall, which were intended to hone the students’ debating skills. The Fellows were obliged to supervise the proceedings, but they were not all needed at once, so they took it in turns.
Bartholomew was scheduled for ‘disputation duty’ that grey Monday, but as he had agreed to examine Lynton’s body for Michael, he asked his colleagues whether they would stand in for him. When he went to tell the monk that they could not help – William was taking part in a vigil for Kenyngham, while Wynewyk and Langelee were due to meet a potential benefactor – he found him holding a letter. Michael’s expression was one of deep concern, and the physician hoped it was not bad news about the rent war.