Free The Hand of Justice by Susanna Gregory Page B

hostile. Although debates were designed to bring scholars together
     in an atmosphere of learning and scholasticism, they were also often used as excuses to re-ignite ancient feuds and hatreds,
     and Bartholomew noticed that Michael had arranged for a large contingent of beadles to be present, too.
    ‘There you are,’ said Ralph de Langelee, Master of Michaelhouse, when he spotted his three colleagues. His barrel-shaped soldier’s
     body cut an imposing figure, and other scholars gave him a wide berth as he shoved his way through them. He was no one’s idea
     of an academic, with a mediocre intellect and only a hazy grasp of the philosophy he was supposed to teach, but he was an
     able administrator, and a definite improvement on his predecessor. ‘I know I told you not to arrive too early – to dull your
     wits in mindless chatter while you wait for the
Disputatio
to begin – but I did not expect you to cut it this fine.’
    ‘Not knowing whether your opponents will arrive is a sure way to unsettle the enemy,’ said Michael comfortably, glancing towards
     the place where the scholars of Gonville Hall had gathered.
    ‘Well,
I
was beginning to think you had decided not to come, too,’ said Langelee, a little irritably. ‘And Gonville have been claiming
     that their minds are too quick for us, and we have decided to stay away, rather than risk a public mental drubbing.’
    ‘We shall see about that,’ said Wynewyk, grimly determined. ‘The likes of Gonville will not defeat
me
in verbal battle!’
    Langelee started to move towards the dais that had been set up where the nave met the chancel. ‘Do not underestimate Gonville,
     Wynewyk: they are very good. We are not talking about Peterhouse here. Well, are you ready? Have you spent the morning honing
     your debating skills on each other, as I recommended?’
    ‘We do not need to practise,’ declared Michael immodestly. ‘Although, I confess I have not taken part in a major
Disputatio de quodlibet
since the Death.’
    ‘The subject you three will be asked to debate could be anything – theology, the arts, mathematics, natural philosophy, even
     politics,’ said Langelee, as if his Fellows might not know. ‘That is the meaning of
quodlibet
: “whithersoever you please”.’
    ‘Thank you, Master,’ said Michael dryly. ‘I am glad you told us that.’
    Bartholomew ignored the monk’s sarcasm. He was looking forward to the occasion, and was honoured that Langelee had chosen
     him to stand for Michaelhouse. ‘These debates are opportunities for us to express opinions and ideas with a freedom not always
     possible within the rigid constraints of more formal lectures,’ he said.
    The others regarded him uneasily. ‘I hope you do not intend to say anything that might be construed as heresy,’ said Langelee.
     ‘I should have thought of this before inviting you to represent us. I had forgotten your penchant for anathema.’
    ‘He will not say anything inappropriate,’ said Michael firmly, fixing his friend with the kind of glare that promised all
     manner of retribution if he was disobeyed. ‘Spouting heresy will see Michaelhouse disqualified, and none of us want that –
     nor do we want inflammatory remarks to spark a riot.’
    Langelee arrived at the dais, and looked his three Fellows up and down before sighing in exasperation. ‘I told you to dress
     nicely, Bartholomew, and you have turned up looking like a pauper from Ovyng Hostel.’
    ‘This is my best tabard,’ objected Bartholomew indignantly. He glanced down at the stained and crumpled garment. ‘But I had
     to visit Isnard earlier, to change the bandages on his leg, and some—’
    ‘No details, please,’ said Langelee firmly. ‘If you are to stand near me for the next two hours, I do not want to know the
     origin of any peculiar smells. Still, I suppose I can rest easy knowing you have clean fingers.’ He started to chuckle, convinced
     as always that Bartholomew’s obsession with