Susanna Gregory - A Plague On Both Your Houses

And why? And even more urgent, where was Augustus's body? Why would anyone want to remove the body of an old man? 'Matthew?' Bartholomew opened his eyes. Father Aelfrith's austere face was regarding him sombrely, his normally neat grey hair sticking up in all directions around his tonsure. 'Look in the commoners' room to see if Augustus was moved there, then look down the stairs…'

Bartholomew sighed. 'Whoever attacked you also attacked me. I was knocked down the stairs, and I know Augustus is not there. I looked in the commoners' room and know that he is not there either. We will check again together, but whoever attacked us also seems to have taken Augustus.'

'That does not necessarily follow, my son,' said Aelfrith. 'You have no proof for such a statement.'

Bartholomew pulled a face. Aelfrith, one of the University's foremost teachers of logic, was right, but both attacks and the removal of Augustus had occurred in or near Augustus's room, and if the same person was not responsible, then at least both events must have been connected to the same cause.

'We should fetch Master Wilson,' he said. 'He should come to decide what should be done.'

'Yes. We will,' said Aelfrith. 'But first I want to find Augustus. He cannot be far. We will look together, and undoubtedly find that he has been moved for some perfectly logical reason.'

Aelfrith rose, looking under the bed a second time as he did so. In the interests of being thorough, Bartholomew also glanced under the bed, but there was nothing there, not even the black fragments of wood he had examined the night before. He looked closer. The dust that had collected under the bed had gone. It looked as though someone had carefully swept underneath it. He looked at the floor under the small table, and found that that too had been swept.

'You will not find him under there, Matthew,' said Aelfrith, a trifle testily, and began to walk to the commoners' room. Bartholomew followed, looking at the gouge in the wall where he had deflected the knife blade away from himself.

Both men stood in the doorway looking at the nine sleeping commoners. All along the far side of the long room were tiny carrels, or small workspaces, positioned to make use of the lightfrom the windows. The carrels had high wooden sides so that, when seated, a scholar would not be able to see his neighbour; for most scholars in medieval Cambridge, privacy for studying was regarded as a far more valuable thing than privacy to sleep. All the carrels were empty, some with papers lying in them, one or two with a precious book from Michaelhouse's small library.

Bartholomew walked slowly round the room, checking each of the commoners. Five of them, including Paul, were old men, living out their lives on College hospitality as a reward for a lifetime of service. The man who had attacked Bartholomew had been strong, and of a height similar to his own. Bartholomew was above average height, and sturdily built. He was also fitter and stronger than the average scholar since a good part of his day involved walking to see patients, and he enjoyed taking exercise. The attacker could not have been any of the old men, which left four.

Of these, Roger Alyngton was Bartholomew's size, but had one arm that was withered and useless, and Bartholomew's attacker had two strong arms. So the number was down to three. Father Jerome was taller than Bartholomew by three inches or more, but was painfully thin and was constantly racked by a dry rattling cough. Bartholomew suspected a wasting disease, although Jerome refused all medicines, and would be far too weak to take on someone of Bartholomew's size. That left two. These were the Frenchman, Henri d'Evene and the brusque Yorkshireman, Jocelyn of Ripon. D'Evene was slight, and, although it was conceivable that he could have attacked Bartholomew, it was doubtful that he would have the strength to overcome him. Jocelyn was a recent visitor to Michaelhouse, and had come at the invitation of Swynford. He was a large man with a ruddy face and a shiny bald head. Bartholomew had not seen him sober since he had arrived, and he had been admonished several times by Sir John for his belligerent attitude when College members gathered in the conclave for company in the evenings. He certainly would have the strength to overpower Bartholomew.

Bartholomew stood looking down at him. Even in sleep, Jocelyn scowled. Could he be the assailant?

Bartholomew bent close to him and caught the fumes of the previous evening's wine. His attacker had not had alcoholic fumes on his breath. Of course, this could be a ruse, and he could easily have downed a glass of wine as a cover for his actions. D'Evene lay on the pallet next to him curled up like a child.

Bartholomew straightened, and tiptoed out of the dormitory, wincing at his sore knee. He joined Aelfrith who was still standing in the doorway, looking grey-faced and prodding cautiously at the gash on his head.

'How long was it before you were attacked?'

Bartholomew asked of the friar.

Aelfrith thought carefully. "I am not sure. The feast became very noisy after I left. I expect the other Fellows left shortly after us for it would not be seemly to continue to carouse when one of our number lay dead. The students, though, would have enjoyed their freedom and the wine. None of the commoners had returned, however,' he said suddenly. 'It is not every day that the commoners are treated to such food and wine, and, like the students, they intended to wring every drop of enjoyment out of it that they could.'

'So you, Paul, and Augustus were the only ones in this part of the building?' asked Bartholomew. 'And all the others were in the hall?' "I do not know that they were in the hall,' replied the logician, 'but they were not here. The feast became noisy, as I said, and I found that it was distracting me from my prayers. I rose, perhaps shortly after midnight, to close the door to the room, and continued with my prayers. I may have nodded off for a while,' he admitted, 'but I would have woken if the commoners had returned.'

'Did you hear any sounds, other than the noise from the hall?'

'None,' said Aelfrith firmly. 'And what about you?

How did you come to be in the commoners' room so early?' "I rose at my usual time,' replied Bartholomew, 'and I saw a flicker of light coming from Augustus's room. I came because I thought you might like to be relieved for a while.'

Aelfrith acknowledged this with a bow of his head.

'Pray continue,' he said.

"I came as quietly as I could so as not to wake anyone, opened the door, and saw what I assumed to be you kneeling on the floor prising up the floorboards. What I thought was Augustus lay on the floor. As I entered, whoever it was that I thought was you leapt to his feet and came at me before I had the chance to react.

He had a knife, and we grappled together. Then he pushed me down the stairs, and I heard footsteps. He did not come down the stairs because I fell against the door and he could not have opened it without moving me. I went back up the stairs, but could find no trace of him, either in Augustus's room or the dormitory.

Then you came round and I realised that Augustus was missing.'

Aelfrith frowned. 'These commoners sleep very soundly,' he said. "I am knocked on the head, and probably fell with quite a clatter. You have a fight on the landing virtually outside their room, and none of them wake. Now, we stand here speaking to each other, and not a soul stirs. Curious, would you not say?'

He strode into the centre of the commoners' dormitory, and clapped his hands loudly. Jocelyn's snores stopped for a second, but then resumed. Aelfrith picked up a pewter plate from a table, tipping off some wizened apples, and banged it as hard as he could against the wall, making an unholy row. Jocelyn groaned, and turned onto his side. D'Evene and Jerome began to stir, but did not wake.