Susanna GREGORY - Death of a Scholar

Before he had finished speaking, there was a furious clamour of voices from the Market Square, followed by the sound of marching feet. The attackers were on their way.

There was a stunned silence in the parlura , then de Stannell raced to the window and peered out. Eyer’s hands flew to his mouth in horror, Lawrence looked frightened, Nerli seemed surprised, and Bon’s face flushed with indignation. Only Potmoor remained unmoved, giving the impression that he rather relished the prospect of violence.

‘Who?’ shouted Bon furiously. ‘Who dares assault us? Do they not know that our founder will be here at any moment? Order them to disperse, Brother. You are Senior Proctor, are you not? Use the authority vested in you.’

‘It is too late.’ Michael rounded on Illesy and Potmoor. ‘Your ostentatious College has done great harm, but not nearly as much as the crimes you have committed – murder and theft.’

‘Not me,’ declared Potmoor, his small eyes glittering. ‘God would not approve of his beloved breaking the law, so I have abstained from wrongdoing since my resurrection.’

‘You have done nothing of the kind,’ said Michael accusingly. ‘You have been out a-burgling virtually every night, as your lack of alibis attests.’ He glared at Illesy. ‘And I mean reliable alibis, not ones brazenly fabricated by your lawyer or the ludicrous claim that you were praying.’

‘I have alibis,’ flashed Potmoor, nettled. ‘Just not ones I am prepared to use.’

‘Olivia Knyt,’ blurted Bartholomew in sudden understanding. ‘Of course!’

‘Leave her out of it,’ snapped Potmoor angrily. ‘I will not have her name sullied. Or Knyt’s. He was a good man, although as dull as ditchwater. Lord! My head pounds! Sometimes I wonder whether my glimpse of Heaven was worth this agony. Give me more tonic, Lawrence.’

‘And you need not pretend to be bewildered either,’ snarled Michael, rounding on the elderly physician. ‘I know your close friend Potmoor does nothing without your blessing.’

Both men regarded him askance, and when Potmoor spoke he sounded amused. ‘I have every respect for my medicus , but why would I need his blessing when I have the Almighty’s?’

‘And I neither sanction nor condemn what my patients do in their spare time,’ added Lawrence. ‘Whatever gave you the notion that I might?’

‘Because you have lied,’ Michael forged on. ‘You deny that you argued with Hemmysby the night before he died, but witnesses say you did.’

‘Then they are mistaken,’ objected Lawrence. ‘I have never–’

‘And I do not believe that you came here because you love teaching,’ interrupted Michael.

Lawrence groaned. ‘Do not tell me that you credit the tale about me killing the old Queen! You should know better, especially if you have heard the one about Sheriff Tulyet’s execution. They are malicious falsehoods, Brother, designed to damage the innocent and cause trouble.’

‘That barricade is not going to hold!’ shouted Nerli urgently. ‘Everyone, come with me to shore it up! No, not you, Bon. You will be in the way.’

‘Stop,’ snapped Michael, as Lawrence hastened to oblige. ‘I have not finished with you.’

‘Later, Brother,’ ordered Nerli. ‘When we are not under siege.’

‘He means when outsiders are not here to hear Winwick’s crimes unveiled,’ muttered Michael, as Lawrence, de Stannell and Eyer raced away on Nerli’s heels, Lawrence with obvious relief. Bon fluttered uncertainly, but Potmoor and Illesy stayed put, clearly of the opinion that they were too grand to sully their hands with menial tasks. The monk rounded on the Provost again. ‘Why did you send Uyten to Ely last night?’

‘To buy parchment. It is cheaper there, and every penny counts, as you have just forced me to confess. Unfortunately, he disobeyed me, and did not go.’

‘I tackled him about that,’ added Potmoor. ‘He said he wanted to be on hand to monitor Lawrence, whom he believes is a poisoner. I could not tell if he was lying.’

‘ Is Lawrence the villain, Brother?’ asked Illesy, his voice suddenly tired and plaintive. ‘If so, you cannot imagine the damage it will do us. Wealthy and powerful men will not send their sons to a foundation where they think they might be murdered by its Fellows.’

‘There is no evidence to accuse him,’ said Bartholomew stubbornly.

‘Actually, there is a great deal,’ countered Michael. His voice became urgent as a crash from the High Street indicated that time was running out. ‘If you two have any love for this place, you will confess to your misdeeds before this mob destroys it. An apology might avert a disaster, although it will have to be a remarkably abject one, or–’

‘What misdeeds?’ interrupted Potmoor indignantly. ‘I have just told you that I have not committed any since God showed me His face.’

‘You and Illesy ordered my Junior Proctor shot–’

‘What?’ cried Illesy, shocked. ‘Why would we do such a thing?’

‘Because he aimed to control you, and instigated measures to do it. You disapproved.’

‘Well, yes, I did,’ conceded Illesy. ‘But I am lawyer enough to circumvent whatever he had put in place. I kept a violent crim– Potmoor free for twenty years. I am good at legal loopholes.’

‘Then there was Elvesmere.’ Michael spoke more quickly when the mob reached the gates and began to pound on them. The frail barrier wobbled. ‘Who died here the evening Potmoor visited, although Potmoor lied about it until we produced witnesses.’

Potmoor shrugged. ‘It was none of your business, and I was only here briefly anyway – Illesy took my donation of ten marks, and saw me out. However, I did not kill Elvesmere. Why would I? I barely knew the man.’

‘And I did not do it, either,’ said Illesy. ‘Do you hear me, Bon? I can see you shooting me nasty glances. I did not like Elvesmere, but he was a gifted teacher, and like any responsible Head of House, I am able to set the good of my College above personal preferences.’

‘And Ratclyf?’ asked Michael.

‘He was nervous and uneasy after Elvesmere died,’ replied Illesy. ‘And it stressed his weak heart, no matter what you say about blue lips and poison.’

‘I miss Elvesmere.’ Bon’s voice was accusing, and it was clear that he was not convinced by the explanations. Bartholomew was beginning to be, though, and a quick glance told him that so was Michael. ‘He was my closest friend.’

‘Do not say we conspired to poison Hemmysby and Knyt either,’ Illesy went on. ‘Hemmysby was a nobody, not worth the bother, and we liked the way Knyt ran the Guild.’

‘Moreover, Olivia wanted her baby to carry his name, not mine.’ Potmoor shrugged and looked away. ‘She is right. Hugo suffers cruelly from his kinship with me, and my unborn child deserves better, much as it pains me to say it.’

‘But you mentioned professional killers and spillages of blood,’ pressed Michael, looking from one to the other sceptically. ‘You were overheard in All Saints churchyard.’

Potmoor and Illesy exchanged a mystified glance, then Potmoor released a bark of laughter. ‘We were talking about the pig we slaughtered for today’s feast – John Winwick likes pork. It was nothing to do with dispatching people. We met secretly, so that no one would guess the depth of my involvement with Winwick Hall.’

‘We should have hired a butcher to deal with the pig,’ added Illesy, ‘but I wanted to save money, so Nerli did it. Unfortunately, his inexperience resulted in a terrible mess…’

‘Then what about the St Clement’s fire?’ pressed Michael, but the conviction had gone from his voice and he sounded defeated. ‘Heyford was vocal against your College…’