The Hand of Justice by Susanna Gregory Page A

grocer a new man, but
     Deschalers shot him a bleak look that made him falter into silence. Sickness made Bartholomew think of Isnard, who had been
     stricken with a mild fever earlier that morning. He recalled his concern, and started to stride towards the Mill Pond.
    ‘Slow down, Matt!’ came a breathless voice from behind him. He turned to see Paxtone, the Master of Medicine from King’s Hall,
     hurrying after him. ‘I have been chasing you all along the High Street, shouting your name, and you have ignored me completely.’
    Bartholomew smiled. He liked Paxtone, who was merry faced with twinkling grey eyes and rosy cheeks, like russet apples in
     the autumn. He was a large man, although not as big as Michael, and usually moved slowly when he walked,as if his weight was too much for the joints in his knees and he needed to proceed with care lest they collapse. But he had
     a sharp mind and was willing to listen to some of Bartholomew’s more exotic medical theories, even if he did not usually agree
     with them.
    Paxtone held Bartholomew’s arm, and used it as a prop while he recovered his breath. ‘You were racing along like Thomas Mortimer’s
     cart,’ he gasped.
    ‘That was what I was thinking about,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Mortimer escaping justice because Bosel is dead. His nephew buying
     a King’s Pardon.’
    ‘My College’s lawyers discussed those King’s Pardons at length yesterday. They concluded that if we appeal against them, we
     are essentially saying that His Majesty is wrong – and that might be construed as treason. We will be fined far more than
     we can pay, just to teach us never to challenge the royal courts, no matter how wicked and corrupt their decisions.’
    ‘It is a depressing state of affairs.’
    ‘It is an appalling state of affairs, but a decision has been made in the King’s name, and we must live with the consequences.
     I heard you were instrumental in catching Thorpe and Edward Mortimer, so you had better be careful of them.’
    ‘I played a very small part in their downfall. There were others who did far more to bring them to justice than me – Michael,
     my brother-in-law, Sheriff Tulyet, Master Langelee, various soldiers from the Castle, and even Michael’s grandmother, Dame
     Pelagia.’
    ‘They were overheard bragging to some of Edward’s cousins in the Market Square the other day. They said they intended to repay
everyone
who played
any
role in their capture. Your name was among the many they listed, so do not think they have forgotten whatever it was you
     did. It is a pity you allowed your book-bearer to accompanyyour sister to Huntingdon. If you ever needed his ready sword it is now.’
    ‘I can look after myself.’
    Paxtone patted his arm. ‘I know. But you can allow a friend to show a little concern. Remember that if anything happens to
     you, I shall be left with Lynton and Rougham – and neither of
them
will discuss Arab medicine with me.’
    Bartholomew smiled. ‘We can learn a great deal from the Arab world. For example, did you know that there is a hospital in
     Egypt that can house
eight thousand
patients simultaneously? It teems with physicians, apothecaries and folk to cater to the patients’ daily needs. If a man
     is sick in the stomach, then a physician who knows about stomachs will tend him. If he has a hardened spleen, then the physician
     who studies spleens will come.’
    ‘I do not think that is a good system. Your expert in spleens may concentrate on the one part of the body he loves to the
     exclusion of all else, and ignore other, more serious, ailments.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ admitted Bartholomew. ‘But I would like to know more about this place – how many inmates are cured and how many
     die. However, for now, I am only going to visit Isnard.’
    ‘I heard
you
performed his surgery,’ said Paxtone disapprovingly. ‘You must not demean yourself by undertaking such base tasks. Would
     you sharpen your students’ pens or replace