Susanna Gregory: A Plague On Both Your Houses

'Respectable indeed,' said Bartholomew. 'Murder, corruption, fraud. All highly respectable talents.'

Michael said nothing, but Bartholomew could hear him shifting around, trying to get comfortable on his crate.

'So, let us summarise what we have reasoned,' said Michael. 'About a year ago Swynford decided to crush the Colleges to strengthen the hostels. He, and a band of selected helpers, put about rumours to blame it all on Oxford, and even killed Fellows in King's Hall, Peterhouse, and Clare to make it appear serious. Merchants were persuaded to give money on the grounds that were the University to collapse, they would lose a good deal of trade. Sir John unwittingly aided them in this because they took advantage of a spy system that had nothing to do with the Universities, but one in which Sir John played a minor role for the King.

When Sir John became suspicious, he was murdered, and his death was made to look like suicide. Michaelhouse was discredited because his body was discovered… not wearing his own clothes.'

'Shortly afterwards, Colet and Swynford decided to add credence to the plot by undertaking to look for Sir John's seal. They killed Augustus and Paul, and Montfitchet died too. They failed to find the seal, even after tearing out Augustus's entrails. Wilson sneaked off into the night to search for it too, acting on behalf of the Chancellor, but he also failed. The damage was done to Michaelhouse, even though the seal remained hidden.

The Bishop, realising that there was more at stake than Michaelhouse's reputation, forced the Fellows to deny the truth. Perhaps Colet and his friends realised they had gone far enough, or perhaps they were more concerned with the approaching Death, for they made no further attempts to find the seal. They poisoned Aelfrith when his enquiries brought him too close to the truth.'

'Of course!' exclaimed Bartholomew, leaping to his feet and pacing in the darkness. 'William, without knowing what he said, told me why Aelfrith was killed a long time ago, but I did not see it. He told me that before his death Aelfrith had seemed depressed because he had heard the deathbed confession of the Principal of All Saints' Hostel. That Principal must have been involved too! News must have got out that he had made a confession, and Aelfrith was killed in case he had been told something sensitive.'

'Aelfrith believed in the seal of confession,' said Michael. 'Even if the dying Principal had told him everything, Aelfrith would never have revealed it to another.'

'Stephen is prepared to kill his own brother for this,' said Bartholomew, 'and the others seem equally fanatical. Killing a friar as a safeguard would be nothing to them.'

'Sadly, I suspect you are right,' said Michael. 'But, to continue. Wilson told you about the attic, perhaps so that you might try to see justice done for the poor victims whose deaths he and the Bishop had ensured went unavenged. It was no secret Wilson spoke to you at length on his deathbed, and it would not take a genius to suppose that Wilson might have told you of the attic, where Augustus's body still lay. I imagine either Colet or Jocelyn carried the body to the stables, hoping that it would be taken away unnoticed by the plague cart.'

He paused again and sniffed. 'Lord, it is as cold as the grave in here.'

'Apt description,' muttered Bartholomew, his mind still on the web of intrigue he and Michael were unravelling.

Michael continued. 'The pestilence must have brought about the deaths of some of those involved in this affair — like the Principal of All Saints'. I suppose now is a good time to strike more blows at the Colleges, while we are weakened and unsuspecting. They have made moves against Alcote, an attack on whom will not reflect badly on Swynford, and might even enhance his reputation he will be seen now as an honourable man returning from protecting his female kinsfolk in a vain, but noble attempt to save the College from corruption. You and I will also provide them with a godsent opportunity to kill us in a way that will bring Michaelhouse into further disrepute. What a fool I was to try to question them!'

'Do you think all the hostels are involved in this?'

Bartholomew asked after a pause.

Michael sucked in his breath. "I doubt they could have operated so efficiently and secretly for such a long time if all the hostels were implicated. The Bishop's records indicate that certain people are definitely involved: John Rede, Principal of Tunstede Hostel, but he is dead of the plague; Jocelyn and Swynford from Michaelhouse; Burwell and Yaxley from Bene't's; Stayne from Mary's; the Principals of Martin's and All Saints'

Hostels, although the plague took them, too; Colet from Rudde's; and Caxton and Greene from Garret Hostel, but Greene is dead.'

Bartholomew leaned against the damp wall and folded his arms. 'And do you know which of the merchants were involved?'

'None,' saidMichael. 'Only hostel men were allowed in on the real plot. But the merchants were an essential component in Swynford's plan. It would not have worked without them. He would not wish to spend his own money, nor that of his colleagues, on fighting the Colleges. The merchants contributed generously, thinking that they were saving the University from being crushed by Oxford, when the reality was that their money was used to undermine the Colleges.'

Lies, counter-lies, and more lies, thought Bartholomew.

Good men had lost their lives because of this wretched business.

'What about the need to protect both Universities so that there will be two places in which to train new priests and clerics when we recover from the effects of the plague?' he asked.

"I am sure they endorse it fully. The more priests and clerics that can be encouraged to come to the University the better. They will live in the hostels Swynford owns, and their rents will swell his coffers. The Bishop believes that half our clergy will perish from the Death, and that the country will desperately need to train more if we are to retain our social order. Without priests among the people, there will soon be insurrection and bloodshed. Swynford's hostels will be offering England a vital service.'

At least Stanmore's money had not totally been squandered, thought Bartholomew, if it could help to achieve some degree of social stability once the plague had burned itself out.

'Why do you think Colet became involved?' asked Michael. "I always understood he had a glorious future as a physician — far more so than you because he is less controversial.' "I do not know. Perhaps because of the pestilence?

First, a good many of his wealthy patients were likely to die, thus reducing his income. Second, the plague is not a good disease for physicians: the risk of infection is great, and the chances of success are low. We discussed it ad nauseam before it came, and he knew as well as I that physicians were likely to become social outcasts shunned by people who were uninfected, and treated with scorn by those that were because we would be unable to cure them. His leeching for toothaches and hangovers would not stand him in good stead with the Death. He was probably taking precautions against an uncertain future, like Stephen.'

Bartholomew gazed into the darkness and thought about Colet. He had stopped treating his patients when Bartholomew became ill and Roper had died. But about the same time, the wealthy merchant Per Goldam had died, and he had been Colet's richest patient. Colet must have decided that helping Bartholomew in the slums and with the plague pits was not for him. What better way to escape from constant demands from people for help than to feign madness? In the church, he would be relatively safe from plague-bearing people, and would be in a place where his associates could easily drop in to see him. His ramblings around the churches and his trips for blackberries were merely excuses to go about his business.