Susanna Gregory - A Plague On Both Your Houses

'Well,' said Michael, 'there were occasions when I was convinced you were the killer, while other times I was uncertain. I took a terrible risk for you when I agreed not to tell anyone you had read my note. I suppose I could not bring myself to think that you would harm Augustus and Paul, and I also believe you are a good physician and would not make mistakes about the quantity of whatever foul potion was used to drug the commoners. But even more, I know how close a friend Sir John was to you, and could not suppose that you would ever have done anything to harm him.'

'When I read the note I thought you might be the murderer,' said Bartholomew.

"Me?' said Michael aghast. 'On what grounds? I have never done anything the least bit suspicious!'

'You were one of the first to arrive when the initial attempt was made on Augustus's life. Aelfrith, who was poisoned, died in your room. And you acted most strangely over Augustus's corpse. You refused even to look at it'

'Ah, yes,' said Michael, struggling to light another piece of wood. 'Augustus.' He shook his head sadly.

Bartholomew waited for him to continue.

'He was murdered, you know, for Sir John's seal.

You know about the seal?' Bartholomew nodded, and Michael continued. 'Before he died, Augustus claimed that devils were in his room. Remember? Well, before all that happened, he had told me that someone would try to kill him. He kept me up a long time that night with his rantings. I thought I had calmed him down, and went off to the kitchen for something to eat. Within a few minutes, he started screaming again. I ran to his room where you and I broke the door down together. It was full of smoke, and he was insane with fear. I realised that I was not the only person to have worked out that Augustus's room was the only place Sir John could have hidden the seal before he died. You arrived just after me.'

Bartholomew remembered well. He had wondered at the time how Michael had managed to reach Augustus's room before him. That he had been raiding the kitchen made perfect sense.

'You offered to stay with Augustus for the rest of the night, and so I knew he would be safe if anyone really had been trying to kill him in order to search for the seal. I kept a close eye on him for the next couple of days, and went to check on him before Wilson's installation dinner.

I was absolutely horrified when I heard he had been killed during the feast, especially after one attempt on the poor man had already been made. Anyway, I had never seen a murdered man before, and I am afraid it unnerved me more than I would have thought. I was afraid to look into his face, because I have heard that a picture of the murderer is always burned into the victim's eyes. I have also heard that a victim's body bleeds in the presence of his murderer, and I felt that Augustus might bleed for me because I was unable to save him when I knew his life was in danger.'

He stopped, and looked at Bartholomew with a weak smile. 'All silly nonsense, of course, and I would not usually stoop to such superstition. But the whole of that day was unreal — Wilson's endless ceremonies, all that wine, town people in the College, the riot, the Oliver brothers trying to lock you out, and then Augustus dead. It was all too much. I was deeply shocked, because I had seen him alive such a short time before. Does this explain my behaviour to you?'

Bartholomew shrugged. "I suppose so, but you do not usually panic so easily.'

'Well, there was one other thing too,' he said. 'The Bishop spoke to me that day, and said that he wanted me to act as his agent in Michaelhouse. He told me about the deaths of Fellows in other Colleges, and said that Aelfrith was already acting as his spy. He said he wanted me to act totally independendy of Aelfrith, so that if one line of communication were to fail, the other would remain intact. He gave me until the following day to decide whether I would take on the task. When Augustus died, I realised exactly what he was asking me to embroil myself in, and, frankly, it terrified me. But the next day, I spoke to the Bishop, and told him I would do it — for the College and for the University.'

He paused again. "I have been acting on behalf of the Bishop ever since. I tried to warn you to keep out of it, Matt. I thoughtyou did not realise what you might get into, and Augustus's murder showed me that it was no longer a silly game played by bored scholars with active minds and too much free time, but something far more deadly.'

Michael's lighted stick crackled and popped, and Bartholomew realised again how wrong he had been.

He stood up, and stretched carefully. He sat again, and made up his mind. He began to tell Michael everything he knew and had surmised.

Michael gave up lighting his fragments of wood, and most of Bartholomew's tale was delivered in darkness. That he had been alone and in darkness for so long occasionally made him wonder whether Michael was really there at all, and several times he reached out to touch him, or asked him a needless question just to hear his voice. Michael added scraps of his own evidence here and there, and by the time he had finished, Bartholomew felt at last that he understood most of what had happened. He heard Michael give a sigh as his narrative was completed.

'The Colleges will be powerful forces in the University, Matt. There are five of them now, and there are plans to found another two next year. That will mean there will be seven institutions with Fellows and their own property. The Fellows will be more secure in their futures than the teachers in the hostels, and the longer they remain at the Colleges, the more power they will accrue. The hostels own no property, and are therefore inherently unstable, and, in time, the Colleges will take their power. As it is, the most powerful men in the University now are Fellows of the Colleges, not men from the hostels. Swynford must have determined that the advance of the Colleges had to be stopped, because in time, they will become so powerful that they will become independent of the University, and they will crush the hostels.'

'But why?' said Bartholomew. 'Swynford is a Fellow with a powerful voice in the University, and he is now the Master of Michaelhouse.'

'The Bishop's records show that he owns many of the buildings that are used as hostels,' said Michael. The rents he charges have made him a rich man. He would not wish to lose this source of income.' "Is that it?' asked Bartholomew incredulously. 'Is it about money? Like Stephen?'

Bartholomew heard Michael laugh softly in the dark.

'Matt! Have you spent your life asleep? Do you not know that nearly all crime in this country is committed with the intention to increase personal wealth? Of course, there is good old-fashioned lust, too; that often plays a part. But the overriding human emotion is greed.'

They sat in silence for a while, before Bartholomew started talking again, more to hear Michael's voice than to resume their discussion. "I wonder why Swynford wants so much money. It is almost as if he is aiming for something specific'

'Perhaps he is,' said Michael. 'Another hostel perhaps?

A position?'

'A position?' queried Bartholomew. 'What sort of position would he need to buy?'

Michael shrugged. "I do not know. Mayor? A position at court? A See?'

'A See?' exclaimed Bartholomew. 'You cannot pay to become a bishop!'

'Oh, but you can, Matt. Not direct payment perhaps, but a sum of money forwarded to the King's coffers might ensure a position of some kind.' He suddenly slammed his fist into his open palm. 'Of course! That is it! The Bishop of Lincoln grows old, and Swynford asked our Bishop about who might be next in line to succeed him at Wilson's feast. I heard him! Swynford was saving to become a bishop! And what a bishop he would make: he is learned, of noble birth, and highly respectable.'