A Poisonous Plot

‘What was the cause of death?’ asked Bartholomew with the polite interest of a fellow professional. He suspected that Shirwynk would not mourn the hapless Letia long — the brewer had not seemed particularly distressed when he had mentioned her predicament earlier.

‘Dizziness,’ replied Nigellus. ‘A very nasty way to go.’

‘Dizziness?’ echoed Bartholomew. ‘How can she have died of that?’

‘Easily,’ said Nigellus coolly. ‘As she would confirm, were she in a position to satisfy your ghoulish curiosity. She reeled and fainted, and it was a blessed relief when she breathed her last.’

‘What were her other symptoms?’ pressed Bartholomew, sure Nigellus’s diagnosis was in error. ‘And how long did she have them?’

‘At least a month — she was suffering long before her husband finally overcame his miserliness and agreed to pay for her stars to be read. And her other symptoms are irrelevant, because it was the dizziness that killed her.’

‘Perhaps Matt can inspect her before she is buried,’ said Michael, as unhappy with Nigellus’s claims as Bartholomew. ‘I was just telling your colleagues that he is very good at determining accurate causes of death.’

Nigellus smiled tightly. ‘Which is why he holds the sinister title of Corpse Examiner, I imagine. However, I would rather he kept away from Letia. I do not want people thinking that he questions my proficiency, which is how it will appear.’

‘Was Frenge your patient?’ asked Bartholomew, feeling it should be questioned.

Nigellus regarded him coldly. ‘Yes, but it has been more than a week since I saw him. I read his stars and recommended that he spent more time asleep in bed and less drinking in taverns. He would doubtless be alive today if he had heeded my advice. And now you must excuse me. I am not in the mood for idle chatter.’

He stalked away. Bartholomew glanced at Michael, and without a word they began to walk back to the brewery, both suspicious that the belligerent Shirwynk should lose his friend and wife on the same day.

‘Of course, it is odd that Nigellus was medicus to both as well,’ said Michael. ‘Not to mention his order for you to stay away from Letia’s corpse. He would not be the first physician to dispatch his patients, either by design or incompetence.’

‘But both were wealthy,’ Bartholomew pointed out. ‘Nigellus would not deprive himself of a useful source of income on purpose. And as to his competence, I have not seen him at work often enough to judge. However, his diagnoses are a little unusual …’

‘More than a little,’ murmured Michael.

Once they were off the High Street, the town was quieter, as most folk had gone to watch the procession. Yet neither scholar felt any safer, knowing that while law-abiding citizens might be enjoying the spectacle, there were plenty of others who prowled the darkness in search of mischief.

‘I hope you realise that I do not have the authority to look at Letia,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The brewery is not University property and she was not a scholar. Shirwynk has already asked us to stay away, and if he refuses to change his mind, there is nothing you can do to make him.’

‘We shall see.’ Michael had considerable faith in his powers of persuasion. ‘But speaking of authority, I am inclined to bring mine to bear on Zachary. I have never met so many unpleasant individuals under one roof: Nigellus, Segeforde, Morys, Yerland … There is a feisty Franciscan named Kellawe, too — the fellow with the big jaw.’

‘Yes, I have met him. He preached a sermon saying there is a sulcus in the heart that houses the soul. I told him that no anatomist had ever found such a feature, and he called me a heretic.’

‘You took a risk, admitting to knowledge of the evil art of dissection.’

‘I would not have spoken if the other half of his sermon had not been a diatribe against Edith for helping the Frail Sisters. He objects to them touting for business on the streets, but when someone provides them with an alternative way to earn a living, he complains about that, too.’

‘I am glad I poached Wauter,’ declared Michael. ‘He is too decent to live in Zachary.’

‘So is Principal Irby. He is on the consilium, and is a perfectly reasonable man. I am surprised he puts up with such colleagues.’

‘I would like to close the place down,’ said Michael. ‘Unfortunately, Morys was telling the truth when he claimed to have Tynkell in his sway — he does. Thank God Tynkell will retire at the end of next term. He used to be an ideal Chancellor, but he has shown a distressing independence of late, and I cannot work with someone who has ideas of his own.’

‘He is a scholar, Brother. He is supposed to have ideas of his own.’

‘Not ones that conflict with mine.’

Both stopped when there was a sudden roar of cheering voices. Bartholomew assumed it was the procession getting under way, but the direction was wrong, and Michael gave an urgent yelp before stabbing a plump finger to where bright flames danced up the side of St Michael’s tower.

‘That bonfire!’ he cried. ‘Now it has set our church alight!’