Death of a Scholar

‘True.’ Michael’s green eyes were wide in his chubby face. ‘How am I supposed to find a culprit when there is so little in the way of clues? Moreover, I am still busy with the murder of my Junior Proctor, not to mention struggling to keep the peace between the townsmen and the new matriculands who are flocking to enrol in the University.’

‘Felbrigge,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘How is that enquiry progressing?’

‘Slowly. But I will catch his killer if it is the last thing I do. I must, or the culprit may set murderous eyes on another University official.’

When the bell rang to announce the midday meal, Bartholomew and Michael started to walk towards the hall, joining the streams of scholars emerging from the accommodation wings and gardens. Meals in College were obligatory, and no one could absent himself without the Master’s permission. Fortunately for Bartholomew and Michael, the Master was a pragmatic soul who appreciated that physicians and senior proctors sometimes needed to obey more urgent summons, and rarely took them to task if they were missing.

His name was Ralph de Langelee, a tall, barrel-chested individual who had been a henchman of the Archbishop of York before deciding that the University was a better place to ply his range of dubious skills. He knew little of the philosophy he was supposed to teach, but he was an able administrator, and his Fellows were mostly satisfied with his rule. He spotted Michael and Bartholomew as he came out of his quarters, and changed direction to intercept them.

‘You know the College statutes, Brother,’ he said shortly. ‘Is there anything in them that I can use to stop Father William and Thelnetham from sniping at each other? Their feud has lasted for months now, and I am heartily sick of it. It is even worse now that Hemmysby is back.’

‘Is it?’ asked Bartholomew, startled. Simon Hemmysby was a diffident theologian, who spent half his time teaching in Cambridge, and the other half as a canon in Waltham Abbey. Bartholomew could not imagine him aggravating spats.

‘William preached a sermon saying that Waltham is home to the Devil,’ explained Langelee. ‘So now Hemmysby joins with Thelnetham in deploring William’s excesses, and clamours at me to dismiss him on the grounds of bigotry. Can I, Brother? I would do anything for peace.’

Michael considered; he loved the minutiae of College rules. ‘Unfortunately, William has been a Fellow too long for us to object to his character now. If we dismiss him for extremism, he will appeal the decision and will probably be reinstated — after which he will be more insufferable than ever. However, there is a statute that says all disputes are to be adjudicated by the Master-’

‘I know,’ said Langelee acidly. ‘You were rash enough to mention it in front of them once, and I have been plagued by demands to arbitrate ever since. I have better things to do than sort out their quarrels. They come to me two or three times a day, and I am at the end of my tether.’

‘What do they argue about?’ asked Bartholomew.

Langelee regarded him askance. ‘That is a question only a man with his head in a corpse would pose! They squabble about everything — who should have which part of the hall for teaching, who should stand where in church, who should have first loan of a book from the library-’

‘How many students should be admitted next term.’ Michael took up the list, having also been dragged into their rows. ‘Whether we should use white tablecloths on Sundays. Whether we should apologise to Ovyng Hostel for the racket made by our porter’s pet peacock. Whether Hemmysby should be a member of the Guild of Saints-’

‘Why should he not?’ interrupted Bartholomew. ‘It is a body of people committed to worthy causes. It is good for us to be associated with it, and all the Fellows of Winwick have joined.’

‘William claims it is only open to very wealthy folk, and he disapproves of elitism,’ explained Langelee. ‘Hemmysby is rich, what with his stipend here and what he earns at Waltham. I suppose Winwick’s Fellows must be similarly affluent.’

‘Actually, they were admitted because their founder wants as close a connection between the Guild and his new College as possible,’ said Michael. ‘They are members by default, although I doubt they mind — its functions are very lavish. But the real reason why William objects to Hemmysby’s involvement is because he was not invited to join — he is jealous.’

‘He is not a man to rejoice in the good fortune of others,’ sighed Langelee. ‘However, what worries me more are his mad views on apostolic poverty, which is a deeply contentious subject.’

Michael agreed. ‘Have you heard what is happening in Oxford because of it? The debate has inspired so many fanatical theologians to air their opinions that some bishops refuse to let men from their dioceses study there. The King has been forced to issue an edict forbidding anyone from discussing it, but too late — the whole studium generale is already seen as a hotbed of heresy.’