Free Death of a Scholar by Susanna Gregory

would not surprise me if breakfast this morning comprised nothing but sawdust and dung.’
    ‘I said ten free masses for the locksmith’s wife last year,’ mused Hemmysby. ‘I am sure he would give us a new mechanism if I asked nicely.’
    ‘So ask,’ ordered Langelee promptly. ‘Go now.’
    ‘Tomorrow,’ said Hemmysby with a smile. ‘I am one of the main speakers at today’s debate, and I should spend the morning preparing. Will you be going, Master?’
    ‘No, I have camp-ball practice,’ replied Langelee, referring to the vicious sport at which he excelled. ‘However, I am sure College honour will be satisfied without me. Michael is also participating, I believe.’
    The monk nodded. ‘It is time the friars listened to what I have to say. The concept of apostolic poverty is—’
    ‘We friars will win,’ interrupted William rudely. ‘Because you monastics do not know what you are talking about. Our right to property and influence is a free gift from God, and you have no right to question His will.’
    ‘The loss of rightful dominion through sin is in conflict with sacerdotal power to consecrate the Eucharist independently of a state of grace,’ stated Thelnetham with considerable authority, launching into a part of the debate that his less intelligent rival was unlikely to understand. ‘That is the nub of the matter. What do you think, William?’
    ‘Our camp-ball team is looking good this year,’ began Langelee, aiming to nip the discussion in the bud. William was not the only one who struggled with the complexities of the dispute, and Langelee had no wish to listen to his clerics airing arguments that might have been in Ancient Sumerian for all the sense they made to him. ‘We have two new—’
    ‘The debate will see the friars victorious.’ William interrupted again, although not to answer Thelnetham’s question, as he had no idea whether it was the nub of the matter or not. ‘How could it not, when sensible priests like me and Hemmysby have important things to say?’
    ‘
You
are speaking?’ asked Suttone in alarm, an expression mirrored in the faces of the others. Michaelhouse did not enjoy an especially distinguished academic reputation, but what little it did have would be lost if William was allowed to hold forth.
    ‘Chancellor Tynkell invited William, who then very kindly agreed to let me take his place,’ said Hemmysby, much to everyone’s profound relief. ‘I have never spoken at the Cambridge Debate before, and I am touched by his generosity of spirit.’
    ‘Just wait until I see Tynkell,’ growled Michael. ‘He approached William for spite, just because I told him to stop trying to make a name for himself before he retires next year. First there was that new library, and now we have Winwick Hall. The man is a menace.’
    ‘Naturally,
I
shall be speaking,’ said Thelnetham, wincing as Bartholomew smeared his finger with a healing paste. ‘I shall not take long to demolish the friars, after which we shall all enjoy the refreshments provided by the Guild of Saints.’
    ‘Eat as much as you can,’ instructed Langelee, cutting across William’s immediate objections to the Gilbertine’s predictions. ‘I shall dine there, too, after camp-ball. Then we can cancel supper and conserve our supplies.’
    ‘Matt and I will not have time for such pleasures,’ said Michael, with the air of a martyr. ‘We shall be hunting thieves and killers. I will have to leave the church once I have said my piece, although I doubt any mere friar will be able to refute my conclusions.’
    ‘
Gently
, Matthew!’ cried Thelnetham, jerking his hand away a second time. ‘I am not a corpse, needing rough treatment to haul me back to the world of the living. I am already here.’
    ‘More is the pity,’ muttered William.
    ‘Speaking of corpses, I overheard Potmoor telling a henchman about Heaven yesterday,’ said Suttone. ‘He claimed he was quite happy there, and resented being dragged back