The Devil's Disciples by Susanna Gregory Page B

scholars and laymen in both factions. Unfortunately, it means no one knows who is on whose side. Like a
     civil war.’
    ‘He can be a gloomy fellow sometimes,’ said Michael, watching him walk away to help the other servants move the tables. ‘I
     wonder you put up with him, Matt.’
    ‘He has saved my life – and yours – more times than I care to remember.’
    ‘Well, there is that, I suppose,’ acknowledged Michael. ‘But which side will he choose in this looming battle between good
     and evil?’
    ‘It is not a battle between good and evil,’ argued Wynewyk. ‘It is a battle between two belief systems, each with its own
     merits and failings. The Sorcerer will not see himself as wicked, but as someone who offers a viable alternative to the Church.’
    ‘Wynewyk is right,’ said Bartholomew, seeing the monk was about to take issue. ‘And the Church can be repressive and dogmatic,
     so choosing between them may not be as simple as you think. It has adherents like William and Mildenale for a start, which
     does not render it attractive.’
    Michael regarded him with round eyes. ‘That is a contentious stance; perhaps William is right to say you dance too closely
     with heresy. However, while I might –
might
– concede your point, please do not express that opinion to anyone else. I do not want to see you on a pyre in the Market
     Square.’
    Langelee had barely quit the dais before William was in full preaching mode, declaring loudly that no one would die if he
     put his trust in God and stayed away from Dominicans. Mildenale stood behind him, whispering in his ear, and Bartholomew noted
     unhappily that William’s booming voice and Mildenale’s sharp intelligence were a formidable combination. Michael watched in
     horror as the students began to be swayed by the tirade and, not wanting the Black Friars banging on the gate and demanding
     apologies for such undeserved slander, he stepped forward hastily.
    ‘You interrupted the Master before he had time to explain himself!’ he shouted, banging on the high table with a pewter plate
     in order to still the clamour and make himself heard. ‘The reason you are being asked to leave has nothing to do with Carton,
     and nothing to do with Dominicans being in league with the Sorcerer, either. It is because of the latrines.’
    A startled silence met his claim. Langelee tried to look as though he knew what the monk was talking about,but failed dismally. Fortunately, everyone else was too intent on gaping at Michael to notice the Master’s feeble attempt
     to appear knowledgeable.
    ‘What about them?’ asked William eventually.
    ‘The trenches are almost full, and Matt thinks the miasma that hangs around them in this ungodly heat will give everyone the
     flux,’ elaborated Michael. It was the physician’s turn to conceal his surprise, although he hoped he managed it better than
     Langelee. ‘New ones will be dug, but until they are ready, it is safer for you all to go home.’
    ‘But the Fellows will be here,’ said Deynman the librarian. ‘They still need to—’
    ‘We will use the smaller pit by the stables,’ replied Michael smoothly. ‘It can cope with Fellows, but not with students and
     commoners, too, which is why you must all disappear for a week.’
    ‘Why did the Master not say this straight away?’ asked Mildenale, not unreasonably.
    ‘Because heads of Colleges do not air such unsavoury topics in public,’ supplied Deynman before Michael could think of a reply
     that Mildenale would believe. ‘It is undignified, and they leave that sort of thing to senior proctors, who are less refined.’
    ‘Thank you, Deynman,’ said Michael, a pained expression on his face. ‘Now, unless the Master has any more to add, I suggest
     you all go and make ready for an early departure tomorrow.’
    Bartholomew was obliged to field a welter of enquiries about the relationship between latrines and miasmas, and it was difficult
     to answer without