Murder by the Book by Susanna Gregory Page B

towards Thelnetham were ambivalent: the mincing canon had a sharp tongue that he often used to wound, yet he was also intelligent and insightful.
    ‘Yes,’ replied Thelnetham rather stiffly. ‘Not all his tales are fiction, and he furnishes me with some extremely interesting information. Such as that a certain Dominican spent hours last week conversing with bats, and a certain Franciscan was given a book for our College that has not yet been passed to Deynman.’
    ‘The bats have been very vocal of late,’ said Clippesby, smiling serenely. He rarely took umbrage at his colleagues’ gibes. ‘It must be the weather.’
    ‘What book?’ demanded William at the same time, although his furtive expression suggested he knew exactly what Thelnetham was talking about.
    ‘Did Weasenham regale you with any tales about Northwood, Vale and the London brothers?’ asked Michael, always interested in rumours about those whose deaths he was obliged to explore.
    ‘No,’ replied Thelnetham. ‘However, I am sure I do not need to remind you that all four voted for the Common Library. Damned villains! Of course, Vale only did it because Gonville does not have many medical books. LikeBartholomew, he was motivated by selfishness, despite the fact that approving such a venture might damage Michaelhouse.’
    ‘Now wait a moment,’ said William dangerously. ‘Matthew has already explained why he voted contrary to the rest of us: he followed his conscience.’
    ‘Then his conscience is wrong,’ spat Thelnetham. ‘But that is to be expected from a heretic.’
    Bristling angrily, William began to defend Bartholomew, but was cut short by the arrival of Ralph de Langelee, the College’s Master. Langelee was a large, barrel-chested man, who did not look like a scholar, even in his academic robes, and whose previous career had involved acting as a henchman for the Archbishop of York. He knew little of the philosophy he was supposed to teach, and Thelnetham was firmly of the opinion that he should return where he came from, although the other Fellows were satisfied with his careful, even-handed rule.
    Langelee indicated that Cynric was to ring the bell again, then led his scholars up St Michael’s Lane towards the Collegiate church. Ayera hurried to walk next to him, muttering something that made him laugh, almost certainly an amusingly worded account of their colleagues’ latest squabble. Langelee and Ayera were friends, partly because – like Bartholomew – neither had taken major religious orders and both retained a healthy interest in women; and partly because they hailed from York and had known each other there.
    ‘I wish we had not elected Thelnetham as a Fellow,’ murmured Michael in Bartholomew’s ear, as they took their place in the procession. Michaelhouse’s scholars were not supposed to talk as they went to church, but it was a rule the Fellows generally ignored.
    ‘Because he has an acid tongue?’ asked Bartholomew,rather offended that the Gilbertine should think he had supported the Common Library for selfish reasons, when he had actually been motivated by altruistic sympathy with his poorer colleagues.
    ‘Yes. Our conclave used to be a pleasant place, with no bickering or nastiness. But he has taken against William – and against you when he forgets that you mix an excellent tonic for biliousness – and the rest of us are caught in the middle.’
    ‘Michaelhouse is not the haven of peace it was,’ acknowledged Bartholomew. He jumped when a gate was slammed in nearby Ovyng Hostel, causing a crack like one of the Prince of Wales’s ribauldequins. Michael patted his shoulder sympathetically.
    ‘Do not worry, Matt. I will start looking for the three men who attacked you as soon as church is over. It will not be easy with no Junior Proctor, but I shall do my best.’
    ‘I doubt you will find them, not when I cannot furnish you with even the most basic of descriptions, and you have too much else to occupy your