A Poisonous Plot

Joliet nodded bitterly. ‘He recommended sucura. Now I know why — not to brighten a dying man’s last days, but to blackmail me. He knew I would opt for the cheapest source — and that the Sheriff would love to make an example of us.’ He looked miserable. ‘I know Tulyet is your friend, Matt, but it is the beggars who will suffer if you tell him what we have done.’

‘I will keep your confidence, although I am not sure you can trust Nigellus. Perhaps you should confess before he blabs. Dick is a compassionate and practical man, and will understand why you did it. Probably.’

Sniffing unhappily, Joliet followed him to where Michael stood with Tynkell, ready to set the disceptatio in progress. The Chancellor was almost invisible inside his sumptuous robes of office, and he looked ill.

‘It is strain,’ he said in response to Bartholomew’s polite concern. ‘Morys threatens to invite my mother here unless I do everything he says, while there are rumours that say I am going to lead the University to a new life in the Fens. Half our scholars are delighted and press me for a date; the other half accuse me of being the Devil incarnate.’

‘It is just gossip,’ said Michael soothingly. ‘Everyone will forget about it in a few days.’

‘No, they will not,’ said Tynkell glumly. ‘Because the town is overjoyed by the “news”, and when they realise it is untrue, their disappointment will know no bounds. They will riot.’

‘But not today,’ said Michael. ‘Now go and start the debate. The nemo dat principle is not my idea of fine entertainment, but I suppose the consilium knows what it is doing.’

Michaelhouse’s students rose to the challenge magnificently, and their inability to recite long passages from legal texts meant their observations were sharper and more concise, which put the audience on their side. This encouraged them to even greater mental acuity, and it was quickly clear who was the better of the two participants. Zachary’s dismayed response was to resort to personal insults that lost them marks. With grim satisfaction, Bartholomew saw that Nigellus and Morys had done their pupils a serious disservice by cheating — Zachary would have fared better if they had been left to rely on their wits.

‘Deciding the victor has been extremely difficult,’ announced Tynkell when it was over.

‘Rubbish!’ cried Wayt from King’s Hall. ‘There was no real contest. And I do not say I support a College over a hostel, because everyone here knows that Michaelhouse sparkled, while Zachary was pompous and dull.’

‘You are entitled to your opinion,’ said Tynkell, shooting a nervous glance at Morys, whose eyes were like gimlets. ‘But Zachary is adjudged the winner, because-’

Cries of ‘shame’ boomed through the church, which Tynkell was unequal to quelling. Michael let them mount until it was obvious that most support was for Michaelhouse — even from the hostels — and only then did he take pity on the beleaguered Chancellor. He ordered silence in a stentorian bellow.

‘You did not let me finish,’ bleated Tynkell. ‘Zachary is adjudged the winner in quotes, but Michaelhouse made more convincing arguments. So it is a draw.’

‘You cannot have a draw,’ yelled Wayt, while Morys’s expression was as black as thunder. ‘Do not be a fool, man!’

There was a resounding chorus of agreement, which Michael again allowed to run before calling for order, hoping that Tynkell would come to his senses in the interim.

‘Very well,’ conceded the Chancellor feebly. ‘Michaelhouse wins.’

There was a loud cheer, and Bartholomew was disappointed but not surprised to see that Zachary were poor losers. They shouldered their way out of the church, sullen and angry, and the look Morys shot Tynkell was enough to make the Chancellor wilt.

‘I shall be glad when he retires,’ said Langelee, watching in disapproval. ‘Tynkell is a dreadful weakling, wholly unsuited to the post.’

‘He is,’ agreed Wauter with a tight smile. ‘But justice has been done, so let us forget about the debate and concentrate instead on convincing all these wealthy burgesses that our College is a worthy recipient for their spare money.’

The beadles cleared the church quickly after Tynkell had announced the result, aiming to reduce the chances of fights breaking out. Langelee rounded up his scholars and guests, and led them back to Michaelhouse at a jaunty clip. They were greeted by the peacock, which was indeed standing in full display by the gate. Clippesby was with it, and Bartholomew was not the only one who wondered if the Dominican had somehow persuaded it to do as the Master had ordered.