A Poisonous Plot

‘No, thank you,’ said Bartholomew, not wanting a garment he was obliged to wear every day to go in a vat that had recently held a corpse. It was silly, he knew, especially given his occupation, but he could not help it. ‘Shirwynk pushed me against one of his tanks. That dust must have-’

‘If he pushes you again, tell me,’ instructed Cynric grimly. ‘And I will push him back.’

While Bartholomew had been gone, the women had done their best to return the Franciscan to some semblance of normality. They had scrubbed his hands and face, and although he was still more amber than he should have been, at least he was recognisably human. They had been unable to do much with his habit, though, so Edith had sent Cynric to Michaelhouse to beg one from William. What had arrived was a vile article, thick with filth and fleas, but Bartholomew put it on the body anyway. Then he loaded Kellawe on the bier and sent the beadles away with it.

He walked to Zachary Hostel, and arrived to find Morys refusing to let Michael inside. He was at an upstairs window, Nigellus at his side.

‘You cannot keep me out,’ Michael was stating indignantly. ‘I am the Senior Proctor.’

‘You arrested me on patently false charges,’ shouted Nigellus. ‘So I took legal advice from Stephen. He says that any contact with you should be through him from now on.’

‘It is not you I want,’ snapped Michael. ‘It is everyone else.’

‘Then you should have thought about that before hounding an innocent man,’ Morys shot back. ‘Because you are not coming in.’

Michael spread his hands. ‘How am I supposed to solve Kellawe’s murder if you will not help me? Do you want his killer to go free?’

‘You will not solve it,’ sneered Nigellus. ‘You are an incompetent. Now go away. If you have questions for us, you can ask them through our lawyer. But not today. Stephen’s debilitas is worse and keeps him in his bed. However, he was not too ill to assure me that your University will be obliged to pay me a fortune.’

‘It is your University, too,’ Michael pointed out. ‘And suing it is hardly the best use of its resources. We should be channelling them into averting the trouble with-’

‘We do not want to be a part of it any more,’ interrupted Nigellus. ‘It is corrupt and rotten, and Kellawe was right to want a new one in the Fens. We shall leave in the next few days, to join those who have gone before us. Our new studium generale will be free of vice and cronyism.’

‘There speaks the hostel that controls Tynkell with threats over his mother,’ muttered Michael, as the window slammed closed. ‘I shall be glad to be rid of them. Unfortunately, the fact that they are not leaving immediately suggests they aim to use the intervening time to recruit more scholars to their cause.’

‘Almost certainly,’ agreed Bartholomew. ‘And Morys has no alibi for Kellawe’s murder — perhaps he killed him to make scholars think they are in danger here, and will be safer in the Fens.’

‘Surely Morys would have preferred Kellawe alive? Kellawe was fervent in his support of the move, not to mention the fact that he held the licence to absolve Zachary’s scholars from acts of violence.’

‘Would you want a man like Kellawe in your new University? He might be popular with malcontents and fanatics, but rational, decent scholars would recoil.’

‘Rational, decent scholars will not be considering removing to the Fens.’

‘But they are, Brother. The Austins think it is a sensible idea, and other good men will follow. Unless you do something to stop it, your University will be torn in half.’

CHAPTER 12

Although Bartholomew and Michael spent the rest of the day in a determined effort to identify Kellawe’s killer, they met with no success. Bartholomew lost count of the boots he examined for red and yellow splashes, but whoever had been with the Franciscan in the dyeworks had been clever enough to dispose of any incriminating evidence. In the end they gave up and went home, exhausted by their efforts.

‘We have a number of suspects, both for killing Kellawe and for being the strategist,’ said Michael, as he and Bartholomew stood outside the hall after breakfast the following day. ‘First, Morys, because Kellawe’s fierce tongue was a liability-’

‘And he killed Frenge to cause a rift between University and town,’ nodded Bartholomew, ‘thus encouraging a lot of scholars to think they might be safer in the Fens. Nigellus is innocent of the first, but might have had a hand in the latter.’

‘Second, Shirwynk and Peyn, who live next door to the dyeworks and hate all scholars. Third, Hakeney, because he is under the delusion that Robert stole his cross, and his assault to get it back has certainly encouraged the Austins to want to leave us for the marshes.’

‘I am less convinced about those three. The strategist is clever, and I am not sure they are sufficiently well organised, especially Hakeney.’