‘An accusation made by whom?’
Carton glared in Honynge’s direction. ‘I tried to stop the beadles, but one punched me, and when Deynman came to my aid, he was hit with a cudgel.’
‘You tried to fight beadles?’ Bartholomew was horrified.
‘Just one,’ said Carton. ‘The lout who seems to think Bukenham is right. The others did not raise a hand against us, because they are loyal to Michael.’
Bartholomew glanced at the beadles and saw none were happy about the situation. Meadowman and four friends stood apart from the remaining one, and it was obvious a division had formed. They looked from the monk to Bukenham with wary eyes, waiting to see what would happen.
‘The Chancellor says that because an official challenge has been issued, Michael must submit to having his quarters searched.’ Tyrington was incensed on the monk’s behalf. ‘How dare he treat a Fellow of a respected College – and his own Senior Proctor – like this!’
‘There are guidelines for dealing with such eventualities, and Chancellor Tynkell is right to follow them,’ said Langelee, the practical voice of reason. ‘I recommend we go to the hall until–’
‘I certainly shall not,’ declared Michael, shooting his deputy a look of pure venom.
Bukenham cringed. ‘It was not my idea,’ he wailed. ‘Tynkell ordered me to do it.’
‘Then fetch him,’ challenged Michael. ‘Let us hear it from his own lips.’
‘I wish I could, but he has locked himself in his room, in case you storm over to St Mary the Great and shout at him. But, like me, he has no choice but to follow the proper procedures.’
‘Of course he has a choice,’ raged Michael. ‘He could tell this malicious complainant where to shove his filthy lies!’
‘But then people would be suspicious of him as well as you,’ Bukenham pointed out. ‘And they will call for his resignation. By searching your room, we can prove nothing is amiss and Hon … the complainant will have to retract his accusation.’
Michael was so angry, his large frame quaked like jelly. ‘I will not give you permission to touch my belongings, and if you try, I shall sue you for trespass.’
The beadles exchanged more uncomfortable glances, and Bukenham’s expression was one of agony. He did not know what to do, and Bartholomew suspected he was far more frightened of Michael than the Chancellor, Honynge and the rest of the University put together.
‘If the monk has nothing to hide, he would not mind obliging you,’ said Honynge quickly, when he saw the force of Michael’s personality and the loyalty he inspired in most of his beadles was about to win the day. ‘His ire is a sign of a guilty conscience.’
Langelee eyed his new Fellow with disdain. ‘It has come to this, has it? Not content with making silly accusations over documents in the Illeigh Chest, you run to the Chancellor as well?’
Honynge’s expression was dangerous. ‘I dislike corruption, and I will not tolerate it in my own College. When Michael is found guilty, I shall be calling for your resignation, too. There,’ he added in a whisper, ‘that told them you will not turn a blind eye to shabby morals.’
‘Ignore him, Master,’ said William coldly. ‘He is a petty man, unfit for Michaelhouse. I knew it the moment I heard him supporting the wrong side in the Blood Relics debate.’
As Honynge and William began a nasty, sniping squabble and Langelee tried to stop them, Bartholomew turned to Michael. ‘I do not understand. How has this come about?’
The monk spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Obviously, Honynge has been listening to the rumours started by Wisbeche – before the man agreed to keep his mouth shut – about Lynton’s wound being disguised. I told you it was a bad idea, and now look what has happened.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Bartholomew, shocked that his hasty action should have caused such trouble. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing – I did not imagine the repercussions would be so dire.’
‘Well, they are,’ snapped Michael. ‘Bukenham will find the bloodstained crossbow bolts you took from our two victims. They will be used to prove I concealed Lynton’s murder, Honynge will call for my resignation, and I shall be hard-pressed to find reasons why I should not oblige him.’
‘Do you mean these crossbow bolts, Brother?’ whispered Cynric, sidling up to him and flashing something that was mostly hidden up his sleeve.
Michael stared at them in astonishment. ‘God and all His saints preserve us! How did you get those with no one seeing? I thought you had been here the whole time.’
‘Then let us hope everyone else thinks so, too,’ said Cynric comfortably. ‘As soon as I heard what Bukenham had come to do, I went round the back, and climbed through your bedroom window. Meanwhile, Carton and Deynman kindly staged a diversion – they tackled your beadles and kept everyone occupied for a few moments.’
‘Thank God for friends,’ said Michael fervently.
‘I even took that flask of wine you stole from Father William,’ Cynric went on, pleased with himself. ‘And one or two other items I thought you might prefer to keep from prying eyes.’
Michael sighed his relief. ‘Thank you, Cynric. I shall never forget this. And I shall never forget what my enemies have done, either.’ He glowered in Honynge’s direction.
‘If Cynric has removed anything sensitive, you may as well let Bukenham do his duty,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Then you can demand an apology from Honynge for the trouble he has caused.’
‘You can demand more than that,’ said Cynric. ‘You can call for his resignation for slandering you. I doubt Master Langelee would object.’
A grin of malicious satisfaction flashed across the monk’s face. ‘I am sure he will not. Perhaps Michaelhouse will be rid of its viper sooner than I anticipated.’
Bukenham swallowed hard as Michael stalked towards him. Meadowman and his four friends immediately stepped behind the monk, to show where their allegiance lay, and, after a moment of hesitation, the last beadle did likewise. The Junior Proctor was alone.
‘You are in a tight corner, Brother,’ sneered Honynge gloatingly. ‘This search is legal, and Bukenham has no choice but to carry out his orders.’
‘I will have a choice if I resign,’ said Bukenham shakily. ‘In fact, I do, with immediate effect.’
Honynge regarded him in disdain. ‘Do your duty, man. No one likes a coward.’
‘You may enter my chamber, Bukenham,’ said Michael, with the air of an injured martyr. ‘I have nothing to hide. Langelee – perhaps you and William will accompany him, to ensure it is done properly. I do not want my accuser to come back later, and say the first search was inadequate.’
‘Are you sure, Brother?’ asked Langelee uneasily. He lowered his voice. ‘Even under that loose floorboard, where we keep the you-know-what?’
Cynric gave an almost imperceptible nod.
‘Even there,’ replied Michael haughtily. ‘Go. I shall be here, waiting for my apology.’
‘No!’ cried Tyrington. ‘Do not submit to this indignity. You are a senior member of the University, and Bukenham has no right to paw through your personal effects. It is not decent!’
‘No, it is not,’ agreed Michael gravely. ‘But if spiteful villains attack me with their false charges, then this is the best way to prove my innocence.’
‘Mind your own business, Tyrington,’ warned Honynge. His voice dropped to a mutter. ‘They are all united against you, Honynge, but you are cleverer than the lot of them put together. Hold your ground, and justice will prevail.’
He turned and led the way to Michael’s room. Bukenham hesitated, but Michael nodded that he was to go, too, then ordered the beadles to do likewise. Langelee and William went to ensure Honynge did not attempt any sleights of hand that would see evidence planted, and because Wynewyk did not trust them to be sufficiently observant, he went as well. It was going to be crowded in Michael’s room. The students milled about uncertainly, so Bartholomew ordered them to the hall, where he asked Carton to keep them occupied by reading from Aristotle’s Topica.