The Hand of Justice

‘The rumours persist that Rougham accused you of killing Warde,’ said Quenhyth without preamble, as he sat down next to Bartholomew. The physician noticed that the lad’s nails had been bitten to the quick, and some had bled. ‘But I have been telling anyone I meet that you are an honourable man, and would probably never murder anyone.’

‘Thank you,’ said Bartholomew dryly.

‘You are welcome. However, I have also been pointing out that the same cannot be said for Rougham, and that I would sooner take physic from the Devil than from him.’

‘I thought they were one and the same,’ said Michael with a chuckle.

Bartholomew sighed. ‘I know Rougham offended you the other day, Quenhyth, but abusing him will help no one. He will embarrass you publicly again, if you are not careful.’

‘You stood up for me,’ said Quenhyth warmly. ‘You told that vile slug that he was wrong and that I was right. That is probably why he has been spreading nasty tales about you. But he is the one who kills for worldly goods, not you.’

‘Kills for worldly goods?’ echoed Bartholomew, puzzled. ‘I do not recall either of us levelling that particular accusation at each other.’

‘Have you not heard?’ asked Redmeadow, his eyes round. ‘Master Thorpe read Warde’s will this morning, and Warde left his copy of Euclid’s Elementa — books seven to ten — to you. It is a standard arithmetic text, dealing with the properties of numbers.’

‘He knows what it is,’ said Michael. ‘He used it to teach you the Quadrivium, remember?’

Redmeadow grinned sheepishly. ‘Of course. But now you have a copy of your own, and will not have to borrow Peterhouse’s. You are doing well at the moment. First, Brother Michael gave you the Bacon, then Matilde bought you the scroll of Trotula’s writings, and now you have Euclid.’

Although there was no harm in the lad’s observations, they left Bartholomew with a sense of unease, as if Redmeadow perhaps entertained the notion that his teacher had killed Warde in order to secure the Euclid. He decided to decline Warde’s bequest, or perhaps donate it to the University, so others would not think the same thing, particularly with Rougham spreading his poisonous lies.

Michael touched his arm. ‘That is good news, Matt, although I had no idea that you and Warde were such friends. Why did he go to Rougham for his physic, if he liked you so well?’

‘He preferred Rougham’s horoscopes to my suggestions for his diet,’ said Bartholomew.

‘I can understand that,’ said Michael with feeling. ‘Perhaps I should do likewise.’

‘Only if you do not mind having medicines prescribed after an exchange of messages carried by children,’ said Redmeadow superiorly. He nodded knowledgeably at Michael’s surprise. ‘Young Alfred de Blaston told me about Rougham’s so-called consultation with Warde while we waited in Lavenham’s shop together the other day. I was collecting supplies for Doctor Bartholomew, and he was waiting for a blackcurrant syrup for Warde.’

‘You should be careful,’ warned Bartholomew. ‘Rougham will complain to the Chancellor if he learns you are collecting tales about him. And you do not want Tynkell to dismiss you.’

‘Tynkell would not do that!’ cried Redmeadow. He appealed to Michael. ‘Would he?’

Michael nodded. ‘Faced with a choice between keeping Rougham or you? Of course Tynkell will choose Rougham. We do not have so many masters of medicine that we can afford them to leave in sulky tantrums over students who are easily replaceable.’ He patted Redmeadow’s arm. ‘But do not fret over Rougham. He is not worth the aggravation. Ignore him, and forget his insults. There will be ways to repay him in the future. I may even help you myself.’

‘You will?’ asked Quenhyth eagerly.

‘Oh, yes. I shall not stand by and allow that arrogant villain to insult my closest friend. It will irk Rougham deeply to learn that Warde left the Euclid to Matt, and not to his own physician — and we shall certainly make something of that small fact.’

‘I have no idea why Warde did that,’ said Bartholomew, disliking Michael teaching his students how to be subversive. It might prove a dangerous weapon in their inexperienced hands.

‘I do,’ said Redmeadow brightly. ‘Warde explained it in his will, and I heard Master Thorpe telling his son about it in the High Street later.’

‘You seem to be party to a large number of private conversations,’ said Bartholomew, recalling how he had eavesdropped on the Mortimers, too. ‘You are worse than Agatha for gossip.’

‘She says I am her equal,’ said Redmeadow with pride, although Bartholomew had not meant it to be a compliment.

‘You heard Master Thorpe and his son talking?’ asked Michael, not caring how Redmeadow had garnered his information, only that he shared it. ‘I was under the impression that they barely acknowledge each other.’

‘They were quarrelling,’ said Redmeadow. ‘Master Thorpe was telling Rob what was in Warde’s will because he said he had done something similar.’

‘I do not understand,’ said Michael.