Death of a Scholar

The meal did not last long, as there was very little to eat, and Langelee’s prediction of inedibility was more accurate than was pleasant. There was no dung — at least, not that was readily identifiable — but the bits floating in the pottage were almost certainly wood shavings. When it was over, Bartholomew snagged Langelee before he could disappear to punch, bite, kick, scratch and maul his teammates in the name of sport.

‘Your new students came with testimonials from their parish priests and licences to matriculate,’ said the Master, immediately guessing the reason for the physician’s irritation. ‘But more importantly, they can pay a term’s fees up front, and one donated a book to our library.’

‘What book?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘A medical one?’

‘Law. Do not ask me the title — it was something in Latin.’ Langelee began to walk away. ‘And you cannot grumble about the extra work either. We must all put our shoulder to the wheel if we are to survive.’

‘Unfortunately, he is right,’ said Michael, who had been listening. ‘You are not the only one who has been burdened with unsuitable pupils. He gave me three Cistercians!’

‘Gracious,’ said Bartholomew, although he failed to understand why Cistercians should be deemed so undesirable. ‘But we had better make a start with your enquiries, or we shall still be investigating when we are supposed to be teaching. Our new recruits will not be impressed by tutors who fail to arrive for class.’

They left the College and walked up St Michael’s Lane. When they reached the High Street, Bartholomew was again astonished by the huge number of would-be students who had descended on the town — at least twice as many as usual.

‘They are certainly keeping my beadles busy,’ said Michael, when the physician remarked on it. ‘Unfortunately, we have no jurisdiction over them — they are not yet members of the University, as they are always quick to remind us.’

‘Some will be,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The ones who have been offered places.’

‘If only that were true! But don’t forget that they’re not bound by University rules until they have signed our register and that’s not until next week. It is not usually a problem, as most new lads are eager to make a good impression.’

‘So why are this year’s applicants different?’

‘I wish I knew. The current intake is abnormally objectionable, the worst of them all being your loathsome Goodwyn. He is still my prime suspect for stealing the Stanton Hutch, you know.’

‘But he has just paid a huge sum of money to study here. Do you really think he would promptly turn around and steal from us?’

‘You are too willing to see the good in people, Matt, and it is not a virtue. Goodwyn is a worm, and you would be wise to recognise it.’

‘The townsfolk do not like these undisciplined louts either,’ said Bartholomew, watching one particularly arrogant throng strut past. ‘Cynric told me that they are making it easy for the burglar to operate — there is so much brawling that any suspicious sounds are masked.’

Michael sniffed. ‘Potmoor — if he is the culprit — is such an experienced criminal that he will not need help from noisy matriculands. Incidentally, I have lost count of the number of times that I have been told you should have kept your necromantic skills to yourself and left Potmoor dead.’

Bartholomew groaned. ‘I used smelling salts, not witchery. And if Meryfeld, Rougham, Lawrence, Eyer the apothecary and Surgeon Holm had been halfway competent, they would have done the same.’

‘Perhaps they thought it was time that his reign of terror was ended. You, on the other hand, gave him the opportunity to continue.’

‘He would have woken anyway — patients with catalepsia usually do. Where are we going?’

‘To Winwick Hall. Hemmysby said they might have stolen our hutch.’

‘He also said he had no particular reason for thinking so.’ Bartholomew was alarmed that they were about to visit the new College on so frail a pretext.

‘I know. But I also have my reservations about the place — reservations that make me want to keep an eye on it. On the one hand, I am delighted that Winwick Hall is here, not in Oxford, because another endowed foundation will make our University stronger and more attractive to benefactors and students.’

‘But on the other?’

‘On the other, it arrived too quickly, and we were not ready for it. We are an old, staid organisation, and we require time to adjust to new situations.’

‘Oxford never needs time to adjust. They are far more forward thinking than us.’

Michael scowled. ‘No, they are not, and you would do well to remember that if you value your position here. Anyway, I wish we had been given more time to consider. Better arrangements could have been made, especially regarding its location.’

‘What could be more suitable than a site next to St Mary the Great?’