A Poisonous Plot

‘Why?’ demanded William, speaking belligerently to mask his dismay. The weeks since the crisis at the Trumpington Gate had allowed Wauter to become a popular and trusted colleague, and the Franciscan did not want to lose him. ‘If you go anywhere, it should be to the Fens — you did say that you thought the University should decant there.’

‘I was mistaken,’ said Wauter quietly. ‘Our future is here. The townsfolk do not want us, so it is our duty to change their minds — which I can do better in a convent that dispenses alms than in a college that can barely afford to feed itself.’

‘You will be an excellent Head of House,’ said Michael warmly. ‘And as Joliet and Robert are no longer available to teach our students, you can do it instead. We will not let you escape from us that easily!’

Wauter laughed. ‘You have no money to pay me, and I should concentrate on my Martilogium anyway. Prior Joliet was right about that, at least — it is an important work.’

He stood to leave, and his place at the table was taken by Clippesby, who had the College cat in his arms. The Dominican was sorry when he heard the news about Wauter.

‘Please do not invite Thelnetham to take his place,’ he begged. ‘He was such a divisive force, and the College is much nicer without him. But what a pity about Wauter! He is a good man.’

‘He is,’ agreed Michael. ‘Although there was a time when I thought he might be the strategist. For example, when he left us to do all the work in the church on All Souls’ Day, then returned to make that enigmatic remark about Michaelhouse’s stained soul, I thought he had been up to no good. But do you know where he went?’

‘Yes — to move the remains of the shed that was set alight behind the church,’ replied Clippesby. ‘He thought it was unsightly and might count against us as we tried to attract benefactors. The pigeons that live in the graveyard told me.’

Michael sighed irritably. ‘You knew? You might have told me!’

‘You did not ask,’ replied the Dominican serenely.

‘Still, at least some good came out of this miserable affair,’ Michael went on. ‘Matt is hailed as the man who discovered a cure for the debilitas.’

‘Royal Broth is not a cure,’ said Bartholomew. ‘It is an easily digestible-’

‘It is a cure,’ said Michael firmly. ‘Our reputation is shaky at the moment, and we need all the goodwill we can muster. Having the physician responsible for eliminating the debilitas helps.’

‘But I did not eliminate it,’ objected Bartholomew. ‘The removal of lead salts from the town’s diet means there have been no further cases, but the victims still-’

‘Royal Broth is selling as fast as Agatha can make it,’ grinned William. ‘The money is just pouring in.’

‘She charges for it?’ asked Bartholomew in dismay.

‘Yes,’ said William. ‘But do not look so horrified. Only rich folk were able to buy sucura and apple wine, so they are the ones who need the remedy. They can afford to pay her inflated prices. Of course, I am not sure we shall ever rid the College of the stench of onion and garlic …’

‘Not everyone has recovered, though,’ said Clippesby sadly. ‘Cew remains mad.’

‘I do not think his affliction was caused by lead salts,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Although I am at a loss as to what else it could have been. Ailments of the mind are a mystery to me.’

‘No they are not — they are just so complex that you cannot explain them to laymen.’ William shrugged when Bartholomew shot him an uncomprehending glance. ‘People will think less of you if you confess that you are as perplexed by his condition as everyone else.’

‘But I am perplexed.’

‘Then ask King’s Hall for Cew’s head when he dies,’ suggested William. ‘You can anatomise it and find the answers you need. But until then — bluster. For the good of the College.’

‘Now that Warden Shropham is back, and Wayt no longer runs King’s Hall, Dodenho has admitted that Cew lost his reason several weeks before Frenge frightened him,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Wayt lied purely to win easy money from the brewery.’

‘Wayt was not the only one to spout untruths,’ said Michael. ‘So did Hakeney.’

‘You mean his claim that Frenge knew Wauter?’ asked William. ‘Yes — it was pure malice on his part. I challenged him about it and he made a full confession.’

‘And speaking of Frenge, we were suspicious that he and Letia died within hours of each other,’ said Michael. ‘But it was coincidence. Of course, Frenge was no innocent victim. On the day he was killed, he made two separate attempts at blackmail — King’s Hall over the sucura he himself had sold them, and then Robert and Morys over a conversation he overheard.’

The door opened at that point, and Langelee entered, his face grey with worry and fatigue. He looked so unwell that William, not usually a man to concern himself with the needs of others, scrambled to his feet so the Master could sit.