Death of a Scholar

‘His caution was misplaced,’ asserted Bon. ‘We have no reason to limit ourselves. We are Winwick Hall, and our founder is a favourite of the King.’

‘He also thought we should teach only canon law,’ added Illesy. ‘However, civil law is where the money lies — wills, medico-legal issues, property disputes. That is what the bulk of our students will want to study. Thus he disapproved of everyone except Ratclyf, who is our other canonist.’

‘He was particularly opposed to criminal law,’ said Nerli slyly. ‘And he made some very harsh remarks to our Provost about the skills he honed while representing Potmoor.’

‘He made some very harsh remarks to you, too, Nerli,’ retorted Illesy spitefully. ‘He denigrated your degrees from Salerno, just because it is a foreign school.’

Nerli scowled so angrily that Bartholomew and Michael exchanged another glance. The Florentine was powerfully built, and the knife he carried in his belt was too big for sharpening quills and paring fruit. Bartholomew could easily imagine him stabbing a colleague in the dark.

‘He did not denigrate Nerli’s qualifications,’ said Lawrence, ever the peacemaker. ‘He merely said that he did not know there was such a thing as a Master of Civil Law-’

‘Well, there is,’ snapped Nerli. ‘Salerno does not follow the same style as other universities.’

This was news to Bartholomew, although in fairness, he had spent time in its medical school, not its Law Faculty, so was not in a position to contradict the Florentine.

‘And he thought your post was a sinecure, Lawrence,’ Ratclyf went on. ‘That medico-legal studies are not a serious subject, and that you are being paid for nothing.’

‘Then let us not forget the words you exchanged with him,’ flashed Bon. ‘He despised you for the sly way you deal with tradesmen.’

‘I am the College bursar — if I do not deal slyly with tradesmen, they will cheat us,’ snapped Ratclyf. He jabbed an angry finger at his accuser. ‘You were his closest friend, but it did not grant you immunity from his bile.’ He turned to the visitors. ‘Bon is illegitimate, which Elvesmere feared might damage our reputation. He was always harping on it.’

‘Enough,’ cried Illesy. ‘Do you want the Senior Proctor to include us on his list of murder suspects? He was unimpressed yesterday to learn that none of us can prove our whereabouts at the time of Elvesmere’s killing, and now you make our harmless tiffs sound like reasons for wanting him dead. I suggest you say no more until you are in control of your tongues.’

‘They are on the Senior Proctor’s list of murder suspects,’ said Michael, once he and Bartholomew were out on the street again. ‘Lord only knows what else might have been added had Illesy not silenced them.’

‘On the contrary, he let them continue on purpose,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Had he stopped them at the beginning of the spat, we would have gone away thinking he was the only one Elvesmere had offended. Now we know that Elvesmere alienated them all.’

‘Illesy is certainly a prime suspect. Not only will he have learned a lot about dispatching opponents from his association with Potmoor, but no Head of House wants a malcontent in his midst. Look at Langelee, who is always after us for ways to get rid of William and Thelnetham.’

‘Yes, but not by killing them.’ Then Bartholomew remembered that the Master had asked about poisons, and hurried on. ‘The others’ motives are just as strong. For example, Ratclyf clearly hates criticism, and Elvesmere condemned the way he performs as bursar.’

‘Meanwhile, there is something decidedly sinister about that gently smiling Lawrence. And he is a medicus — trained at Oxford, no less. I am sure they taught him how to ply a knife.’

‘Nonsense, Brother,’ said Bartholomew impatiently. ‘Lawrence is a good man. Besides, whoever wielded the dagger was not an expert — Elvesmere took some time to die.’

‘If you say so.’ Michael’s tone of voice made it clear he disagreed. ‘Nerli is a strong candidate, too. He is sensitive about his foreign qualifications, and he has a black and dangerous look about him. In fact, Langelee thinks he is a soldier, not a scholar at all.’

‘What about Bon?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘I cannot imagine he was pleased to be reminded of his illegitimacy, especially if he and Elvesmere were supposed to be friends.’

‘His bastardy has been nullified by papal dispensation — I have seen the documents myself. I doubt Elvesmere’s remarks meant anything to him. Besides, I imagine a blind man would be at a severe disadvantage in a killing.’

‘Hypochyma,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘Rougham and Lawrence will tell you that it is caused by corrupt humours collecting in the locus vacuus between the pupil and the eye, but my Arab master said it was because pigments accumulate on the lens, thus preventing light from-’