The Devil's Disciples by Susanna Gregory

about the same time that
Mildenalus Sanctus
took to preaching against sin and the Sorcerer began to attract more followers.’
    ‘Yes, it did,’ agreed Cynric. ‘Carton started preaching against sin, too, and anyone listening to his sermons was impressed
     by how much he knew about it.’
    ‘And all this coincided with a sharp increase in heathen practices throughout the town,’ continued Langelee. ‘So, in a short
     space of time, we have Carton abruptly losing interest in the covens he was monitoring, an upsurge in radical and unpopular
     preaching by our Franciscans, a greater liking for witchery among the populace, and a more active Sorcerer. And now two of
     Mildenale’s cronies are dead.’
    ‘You think all these events are connected?’ asked Bartholomew, puzzled. He could not see how.
    Langelee shrugged. ‘That is for you to decide. I am merely reminding you of facts that might have a bearing on Carton’s death.
     I do not like the town’s sudden interest in dark magic, though. It is causing a rift between those who are loyal to the Church
     and those who think there might be something better on offer.’
    Michael sighed. ‘We have eight days until term resumes. Let us hope that is enough time to work out what is happening.’
    ‘Very well, but I am sending our students home in the meantime,’ said Langelee. ‘Cambridge feels dangerous at the moment,
     what with religious zealots threatening sinners with hellfire, and the Devil’s disciples retaliating with spells and curses.
     I want our lads safely away.’
    ‘That is a good idea,’ said Michael, pleased. ‘And if Carton really was embroiled in something odd, then they will not be
     here to take umbrage at any rumours. We do not want them defending his reputation with their fists.’
    ‘Quite,’ said Langelee. ‘I do not want them joining covens, either, because they think they might be more fun than church.
     Hopefully, you will have evicted this Sorcerer by the time they return, and the danger will be over.’
    Michael looked unhappy at the pressure that was being heaped on him, but knew the Master was right – students were always
     interested in anything forbidden to them. He turned to Bartholomew. ‘It is too late to do anything tonight, and you have patients
     to see, anyway. We shall start our enquiries in earnest tomorrow.’
    ‘Where?’ asked Bartholomew.
    ‘Here, in Michaelhouse,’ said Michael grimly. ‘With Carton’s friends: William and Mildenale.’

Chapter 3
    In Michaelhouse’s hall the following morning, Langelee stood on the dais and cleared his throat, indicating he wanted to speak.
     The sun was slanting through the windows, painting bright parallelograms on the wooden floor. The servants were setting tables
     and benches ready for a lecture he was to give on fleas. No one was quite sure why he had selected this topic, and Bartholomew
     could only suppose he had been low on ideas. The scullions stopped hauling furniture when they saw that the Master was going
     to make an announcement first.
    ‘There will be no analysis of fleas today,’ he said, folding his beefy arms across his chest. ‘The College is closed until
     next Monday, so you must all go home. Oh, and Carton is murdered.’
    ‘That was an ill-considered juxtaposition of statements,’ muttered Michael, disgusted. ‘It looks as though he is shutting
     the College because a Fellow has been killed, which is not the case.’
    He and Bartholomew were standing at the front of the hall, because he had wanted to gauge his colleagues’ reactions when told
     the news. Bartholomew watchedWilliam and
Mildenalus Sanctus
intently, but their response to Langelee’s proclamation was exactly what he would have expected: a mixture of shock, disbelief
     and horror. Similar sentiments were written on the faces of everyone else, too, but Carton had not been the most popular member
     of the foundation, so few tears were shed.
    ‘Do you think one of us might be next?’