A Poisonous Plot

‘Why am I not surprised that she has taken a liking to him?’ muttered Wauter, coming to stand next to Bartholomew and Michael. ‘The Devil sees his own like, I suppose.’

‘Where have you been?’ demanded Michael frostily.

‘Fetching her,’ replied Wauter. ‘I wrote a letter explaining why, and left it with Prior Joliet. Did he not give it to you? Lady Joan and I are old friends, and I thought she would give her son the strength he needs to lead the University in its time of crisis.’

‘You consider Dick and me unequal to the task?’ asked Michael coolly.

‘I thought you might need help,’ said Wauter quietly. ‘That is all.’

‘Well, I am glad you brought the King’s knights,’ said Tulyet, watching Lady Joan and Dickon talk animatedly. ‘I am not sure we could have quelled that battle without them, and people would have died.’

‘How long will she and her entourage stay?’ asked Bartholomew, suspecting the turmoil would start again the moment they left.

‘Until Christmas at least,’ replied Wauter. ‘Quite long enough to put us all in order.’

EPILOGUE

About a month after the incident at the Trumpington Gate, Michael was able to report with satisfaction that the fledgling studium generale in the Fens was no more. When the first serious frost settled across the marshes, most of its scholars decided that it was no place to spend the winter, and began to trickle away. Eventually only a stubborn handful remained, but not enough to warrant being called a university or even a college.

The same evening, he and Bartholomew met in the conclave. It was bitterly cold, but there was no fire, because Michaelhouse’s finances did not stretch to wood, and the only refreshments on offer were sour ale and stale bread. They joined William and Wauter at the table where, as usual, the discussion turned to the strategist and his schemes.

‘Joliet manipulated everything and everyone to achieve what he wanted,’ said Wauter, shaking his head sadly. ‘He persuaded Stephen to find a way around the town’s by-laws for Edith to start her dyeworks, knowing that people would object and there would be trouble-’

‘Stephen, who was so miserly that he insisted on finishing the expensive sucura he had bought, which brought about his death last week,’ said William with unfriarly satisfaction.

‘He added it secretly to his Royal Broth,’ said Bartholomew, wishing he had guessed sooner why the lawyer had failed to rally. ‘He told me just before he died that he found the mixture unpalatable on its own.’

‘It is difficult to mourn him, though,’ said Michael. ‘Even on his deathbed, he was encouraging people to sue each other over the slightest offence. I shall not miss his agitating.’

‘The apple wine and sucura claimed twenty-five lives in the end,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Six from Barnwell, Letia, Lenne, Arnold, Irby, Yerland, Segeforde and Stephen, plus three of my patients, four of Rougham’s and five more of Nigellus’s. Other than Yerland and Segeforde, all would probably have survived had they been younger or fitter.’

‘I wonder how Nigellus likes practising in the Fens,’ said William smugly. ‘It is a far cry from his comfortable existence here, and I am sure he cannot be happy with only half a dozen impoverished fanatics to tend.’

‘Well, he did want the University to move there,’ said Michael, ‘so he cannot object to the choices he was offered: prison or permanent exile in the marshes. And at least out in the bogs he can call himself Senior Physician, although it is not a title he deserves. Did I tell you that he was lying when he claimed to have trained at Oxford? He was there less than a month before they tired of his arrogance and threw him out. He certainly never graduated.’

‘So he was a fraud,’ mused Wauter. ‘I always sensed something unsavoury about him, which was one reason why I was glad to accept a post here when Irby told me that Nigellus had been invited to join Zachary.’

‘Along with the promise of decent company, of course,’ put in Michael.

‘Joliet had his just deserts, though,’ said William. ‘The Austins refused to have him in their cemetery, so he went behind the compost heap in St Botolph’s. Personally, I think his helpmeets should join him there, but some still live.’

‘Not Robert,’ said Michael. ‘He hanged himself in his cell after a visit from Lady Joan. Meanwhile, everyone else from Zachary has been banished to France.’

‘They did a lot of harm,’ said Wauter sadly. ‘Robert killed Arnold and Hamo, Morys poisoned Segeforde and Yerland, and they both worked together to dispatch Frenge. And Joliet strangled Kellawe.’

‘But not before Kellawe had run amok in the dyeworks,’ said William disapprovingly. ‘Twice. He should never have been allowed to wear a Franciscan habit — he should have been an Austin instead.’

‘I am going to resign my Michaelhouse Fellowship,’ said Wauter. He raised a hand when a startled William began to blurt an apology. ‘Not because you just insulted my Order, Father, but because my colleagues have asked me to be their Prior. I think I must accept.’