‘Honynge is certainly innocent of Lynton’s death,’ said Candelby to Michael. ‘He was going to attend the Dispensary on my behalf – to use his wits to predict winners, while I provided money for bets. We were going share the proceeds, and Lynton’s demise ruined a perfectly good plan.’
‘You have not mentioned this before,’ said Michael suspiciously.
‘Why would we? It is none of your business. However, we were both furious when Lynton died.’ Candelby went to Michael’s desk and began to make a pile of the scrolls that were lying out on it. Outraged, the monk stepped forward to stop him, but Blankpayn brandished his weapon menacingly.
‘We do not have time for this.’ Bartholomew started towards the door, but Blankpayn took a firmer grip on his sword, and the physician was left in no doubt that he would very much like to use it. He stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Please! Michael needs to supervise the Regents, or there may be trouble.’
‘Good,’ said Honynge. ‘I hope there is trouble, and that you two will be blamed. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘With luck, some of those arrogant Fellows will die, and you can accept one of the resulting vacancies – if there is a foundation that meets your exacting standards, of course.’
‘No one is going to die,’ said Candelby, going to a shelf for more of the University’s records.
‘What are you doing with those?’ asked Michael uneasily. ‘Be careful. Some are very valuable.’
‘We are going to have a fire,’ said Honynge, waving an unlit taper at him.
‘A fire?’ Michael was appalled. ‘But these deeds are irreplaceable! What are you thinking of? Put them down and get out of my office. And tell your ape to stop pointing his sword at me.’
‘Easy, Blankpayn,’ crooned Candelby soothingly, when his henchman lurched forward. Bartholomew quickly interposed himself between taverner and monk; his leather jerkin would afford greater protection than Michael’s woollen habit. Candelby glared at the monk. ‘And you should settle down, too, Brother, because you are not going anywhere until I say so.’
Michael glared. ‘But Matt does not need to be–’
‘If I let him go, he will summon your beadles,’ snapped Candelby. ‘Stand against the wall, where we can see you. Hurry up! We do not have all day.’
‘Blankpayn has been itching to dispatch a few academics, so I advise you against calling out or trying to escape,’ said Honynge. He lowered his voice. ‘Why did you warn them? You should have kept quiet and let Blankpayn cut them down. That would have showed them who is in charge.’
Candelby seemed used to Honynge’s oddities, and did not react to the muttered comments, although Blankpayn regarded the ex-Fellow askance. Honynge did not keep Blankpayn’s attention for long, however, because when Bartholomew hesitated to obey the instructions, he was rewarded with a poke from the blade. It was a vigorous jab, and would have drawn blood, had it not been for the armour he wore. For the first time, he began to appreciate the danger they were in.
Michael regarded Honynge coldly. ‘I have no idea what is happening here, but I strongly urge you to reconsider. Candelby intends to see the University collapse. Surely you want no part of that?’
‘He is trying to pretend you and he are on the same side,’ whispered Honynge. ‘Do not listen, Honynge. You know how he hates you.’
Michael was disgusted. ‘You are betraying your colleagues – and for what? Candelby does not pay you very generously, because your hostel was shabby, unlike the fine building he leased to Tyrington.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Honynge, putting out his hand to prevent Candelby from responding. ‘He let me occupy Zachary Hostel free of charge for months. That was extremely generous.’
‘Is that why it took you so long to decide whether you were going to accept the Michaelhouse Fellowship?’ asked Bartholomew, recalling how Honynge had gazed thoughtfully out of the window for some time after reading Langelee’s invitation.
Honynge nodded. ‘I was reviewing whether it would be worth my while. But I need not have worried, Candelby immediately offered to recompense me in silver instead.’
‘Tyrington was a good tenant,’ said Candelby conversationally, rummaging in a chest to emerge with a handful of parchment. ‘He always paid me on time, and he kept the place scrupulously clean. If all scholars were like him, I would not mind renting to them. But most are pigs.’
Michael was more interested in Honynge. ‘How could you form an alliance with a man who is determined to destroy the University – your University?’
‘Because I owed him years of back-rent,’ snapped Honynge. He produced a tinderbox and began the process of lighting his taper. ‘Had he chosen to file a complaint, I would have been expelled – perhaps even excommunicated – but instead he offered me a solution to my problems.’
‘That should be enough for a pretty blaze,’ said Candelby, stepping back to admire his handiwork. ‘The smoke will put the wind up those arrogant Regents, and you will have to watch all these priceless parchments destroyed, Brother. It will take you years to sort out the resulting confusion.’
‘It will not,’ said Honynge, most of his attention on his tinderbox. ‘Because he will be dead – him and his Corpse Examiner.’
Candelby regarded him warily. ‘You said we were going to make a fire, not kill–’
‘We are about to incinerate a church containing hundreds of scholars,’ said Honynge impatiently. ‘Of course there will be casualties. Among them will be this pair.’
‘Now, just a moment,’ said Candelby, alarmed. ‘You suggested we should create a bit of chaos, to destabilise the University so it cannot stop me when I raise my rents, but murder is–’
‘Do not be a fool,’ snapped Blankpayn, speaking for the first time. ‘Do you think the monk and his friend will say nothing about what they have heard here? They will tell the King, and we will hang.’
‘We will not hang,’ said Candelby irritably. ‘The King will review the evidence, and see we were driven to desperate measures. He will never condemn us.’
Honynge addressed Blankpayn. ‘Candelby and I will be able to buy our freedom, because we are important. But you are just a poor taverner. You are right to want to silence these scholars before they can harm you, so go ahead and do it. Go on. You know it is the sensible thing to do.’
‘Ignore him, Blankpayn,’ ordered Candelby. ‘You are no killer, so do not be stupid about–’
‘Kill them,’ hissed Honynge fiercely. The taper was burning, ready to ignite Candelby’s little bonfire. ‘Follow what your instincts tell you to do. Do not obey a man who calls you stupid.’
‘Stop it, Honynge,’ snapped Candelby, when Blankpayn gripped his sword and prepared to follow the scholar’s suggestion. ‘We have worked well together this far, so do not spoil everything now. No one needs to die. Put up your blade, Blankpayn. I should have known better than to ask you to help with a matter that requires subtlety and discretion.’
It was the wrong thing to say, because Blankpayn’s expression darkened. With a sigh of annoyance that his normally submissive henchman should dare defy him, Candelby tried to snatch Blankpayn’s weapon. At the same time, the blazing taper singed Honynge’s fingers. He howled in pain and dropped it, so it fell on the documents, which immediately began to smoulder. Blankpayn ripped his sword away from Candelby with a bellow of fury, and suddenly the two men were engaged in a desperate grappling match. Michael darted towards the flames and began to flail at them with his cloak.
‘Michael, stop!’ yelled Bartholomew, trying to squeeze past the furious mêlée of arms, legs and sword that was Candelby and Blankpayn. The desk was in the way, and he was trapped. ‘Smother them – do not fan them!’