Michael seized his arm and jerked him to a halt. ‘Look over there! Candelby is talking to Honynge. Now what can they have to say to each other? It seems Lynton is not the only scholar with a dubious private life. Honynge sneaks around the grounds of rival Colleges in the depths of the night, he gambles, and now we learn he fraternises with evil-hearted burgesses.’
‘Candelby is just selling him a pie,’ said Bartholomew, watching. ‘It is hardly fraternising.’
‘Then let us hope it chokes him,’ said Michael uncharitably. ‘And I will be saved the bother of finding a bloodless way of ousting him from Michaelhouse. I am none too happy with Tyrington, either. Wynewyk was right to object to his leering – it is sinister.’
‘At least they are both good academics.’
‘They are adequate,’ replied Michael haughtily. He stalked towards the two men, but Candelby was already striding briskly up the High Street. The monk grimaced – he wanted to question Candelby about his dealings with Lynton, but not at the expense of an undignified sprint. He vented his spleen on his new colleague instead. ‘You keep some very disreputable company, Honynge.’
Honynge took a bite of the pie. It was enormous, and looked heavy with suet. Bartholomew regarded it with disapproval, thinking that if Honynge ate it all, it would sit badly in his stomach, and bring about an excess of the yellow bile that would exacerbate his choleric temper.
‘I am hungry,’ replied Honynge. ‘There was not enough to eat this morning.’
‘Now there is something upon which we can agree,’ said Michael. ‘Although there might have been more had some Fellows not availed themselves of more than their share of egg-mess.’
‘You refer to Langelee,’ said Honynge, evidently deciding it could not be his own hoggishness that was in question. His voice dropped until it was barely audible. ‘Michaelhouse is full of gluttons, and you were a fool to accept their offer. You should have gone to Lucy’s instead.’
Commenting adversely on his colleagues’ eating habits meant Honynge was skating on some very thin ice. Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he went on the offensive. ‘I have it on good authority that you were slinking around the grounds of Clare late the other night. Exactly why would you do that?’
‘I did nothing of the kind,’ replied Honynge firmly. ‘Who has been telling lies about me?’
‘My witness saw your face,’ pressed Michael, rather taken aback by the bald untruth.
‘You said it was late, which means it was dark. How could your “witness” have seen me? The fellow is either a liar or a drunkard.’ Honynge glared at Bartholomew, indicating he had his own suspicions about the identity of the witness; and the physician supposed he must have heard who Spaldynge claimed to have spotted burgling his College.
Michael changed the subject before it became awkward for his friend. ‘Do you like gambling?’
Honynge regarded the monk with open dislike. ‘Why? Do you want to become a member of the Dispensary? I doubt the sessions will continue now Lynton is dead.’
Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘You do not deny it?’
‘Why should I deny it? I did not bet on holy days, and any winnings I earned went towards books for Zachary Hostel. What will you do? Prosecute me? If so, I will name all the others I met at these gatherings – Paxtone, Kardington, Wynewyk–’
‘Wynewyk?’ asked Michael incredulously. That was a name he had missed on Lynton’s register.
‘Yes, and he took Langelee and Carton once, although our Master is a man of brutal wits, who does not possess the necessary finesse for Lynton’s games. Carton was better.’
‘Finesse?’ echoed Michael disdainfully. ‘For betting on the outcome of the roll of a die?’
Honynge sneered at him. ‘If you attempt to make an example of me, Brother, I will see you are obliged to fine half the University. I strongly advise you to let sleeping dogs lie.’
‘I shall make up my own mind about that. Where are you going? To Michaelhouse? Did Langelee not tell you the meeting has been postponed for another hour?’
Honynge looked annoyed. ‘No, he did not.’ His voice dropped again. ‘Langelee wants you to waste your time waiting for him, because you were late for his procession today. Go to the Market Square and buy yourself some victuals, lest they serve you dog again this evening.’
Michael sniggered as he left. ‘William did feed him dog today, actually – Agatha put it in the egg-mess. It was just as well he took it all before you got to it, given that I forgot to warn you.’
Bartholomew was disgusted. ‘Does this mean I need to inspect everything that appears on the table from now on? Honynge is not the only one who would rather not eat dog.’
‘It was just the once. And as he did not notice, there was no fun in it – it will not happen again.’
‘It had better not. I notice you lied about the time of the meeting. You have just ensured he will miss it, and as he is opposing you, you will probably win the vote to exhume Kenyngham.’
‘Really?’ asked Michael innocently. ‘The thought never crossed my mind.’
Langelee was waiting when Bartholomew and Michael entered the conclave. Wynewyk was next to him, pen poised to take notes, and William was humming as he chewed something stolen from the kitchens. It was a Lombard slice, heavy with dates and honey. Michael eyed it longingly.
‘You should watch yourself, Father. Agatha might put her love-potion in anything, and she knows you are in the habit of sneaking into her domain and availing yourself of whatever happens to be lying around. You do not want to develop a passion for her. Give it to me.’
Bartholomew laughed when William did as he suggested.
‘And what is to stop you from falling under this spell, Brother?’ asked Wynewyk, also amused.
Michael stuffed the cake into his mouth. ‘I am immune. And this cake is free of potions anyway. If it had been otherwise, my innate sense of godliness would have told me to spit it out.’
Bartholomew laughed again.
‘Where is Honynge?’ demanded Langelee irritably, when Tyrington entered and there was only one empty seat remaining. ‘Is he going to be late again?’
‘I saw him walking towards the Market Square a few moments ago,’ replied Michael guilelessly. ‘He does not like College food, so has gone to lay in some personal supplies.’
William gave a triumphant cackle, and Wynewyk’s small, secret smile indicated he had also been party to the egg-mess incident. Tyrington looked from one to the other in puzzlement.
‘Well, we cannot wait,’ said Langelee. ‘I have other business to attend today – Mayor Harleston is selling a rather fine filly, and I want to put a bid on it before Candelby does. He has wanted that horse for a long time, but she will be a good breeder and I intend to build up our stables.’
‘How will we pay for it?’ asked Bartholomew, startled.
‘Wynewyk won a–’ began Langelee.
‘I was named in the will of an elderly aunt,’ interrupted Wynewyk, while Langelee leaned down to rub the ankle that had been kicked.
‘You mean you won something at one of Lynton’s gaming sessions,’ said Michael. ‘Honynge told me you are a regular visitor to the Dispensary.’
‘That was low of him,’ said Wynewyk disapprovingly. ‘We all swore oaths to keep it secret.’
‘Perhaps you did, but you still should have mentioned it to me after Lynton died,’ said Michael reproachfully. He looked hard at Langelee, because the Master was one of few who knew the truth. ‘You know I am investigating his … the circumstances of his death.’