Free A Poisonous Plot by Susanna Gregory Page B

have chosen.’
    ‘We cannot,’ said Wauter shortly. ‘We have not yet made our final decision.’
    ‘Then you had better hurry up,’ said the Franciscan disagreeably. ‘Or do you expect us to stand around in St Mary the Great tomorrow, waiting while you debate the matter?’
    ‘Perhaps we should listen to them instead of the students,’ sniggered Suttone. ‘It will almost certainly be more entertaining.’
    ‘Regardless of what happens in the debate,’ said Michael, tactfully changing the subject, ‘when they see the lavish style in which we honour the memory of our founder, every wealthy family in the town will want us to do the same for them.’
    ‘But if not, there is always Wauter’s Martilogium ,’ said Suttone. ‘He confided last night that all the monies from its publication will come to Michaelhouse.’
    ‘You mean that list of martyrs that you have been compiling for the last twenty years?’ asked Langelee eagerly. ‘That is generous, man!’
    Wauter shot Suttone a weary glance. ‘Yes, I confided my intentions to you. That means you were meant to keep them secret until I was ready to make a general announcement.’
    ‘Oh,’ mumbled Suttone guiltily. Then his expression became pained. ‘Lord! I remember why you told me now! To cheer me up after what Stephen the lawyer said – that he plans to leave his collection of tomes on architecture to Gonville Hall instead of us.’
    ‘Does he?’ cried Langelee, dismayed. ‘I thought I had persuaded him that they would be more appreciated here.’
    ‘You did,’ said Suttone. ‘But he changed his mind. Personally, I suspect it was Zachary’s doing – to disconcert us before the disceptatio .’
    ‘It will have been Kellawe,’ said William viciously. ‘I cannot abide him – he is a fanatic.’
    ‘But he is a Franciscan,’ Suttone pointed out, while the others supposed that the Zachary man must be zealous indeed to have drawn such condemnation from William, who was no moderate himself. ‘A member of your own Order.’
    ‘He should never have been allowed to join,’ declared William hotly. ‘He should have gone to the Dominicans instead. They are the ones who love heretics.’
    There followed a lengthy diatribe, during which William listed all Kellawe’s failings. His colleagues were wryly amused to note that every one of them was echoed in himself – arrogance, inflexibility, dogmatism and stupidity.
    ‘What will the Saturday Sermon be about today, Suttone?’ asked Langelee, eventually tiring of the tirade and so changing the subject. ‘It is your turn to preach.’
    Suttone’s regarded him in horror. ‘Is it? Lord, I forgot, and I have nothing prepared! Perhaps we all can listen to the mock disputation that Matthew has organised instead. I know it will be about medicine, but that cannot be helped.’
    ‘Very well,’ said Langelee. ‘What is the subject, Bartholomew? And do not worry about what Nigellus and Rougham will think when informed that their audience will be ten times the size of the one they are expecting – they will be delighted, as both love being the centre of attention.’
    Bartholomew hoped he was right. ‘Whether scrofulous sores in the throat can—’
    ‘Oh, no,’ gulped Langelee with a shudder. ‘I do not want to listen to that sort of thing today, thank you very much. We shall change it to something less grisly.’
    ‘What about one of Aristotle’s medical questions?’ suggested Suttone. ‘Such as my personal favourite: why do women have softer bodies than men?’
    ‘I hardly think our theologians will want to hear the answer to that, Father,’ said Wauter primly. ‘Moreover, our seculars will become inflamed with lust, and we shall have trouble.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ said Langelee briskly. ‘Medical debates necessarily involve mention of human parts, and I am sure we can trust Rougham and Nigellus to be genteel. Besides, our clerics can always stuff their fingers in their ears if anything too