Death of a Scholar by Susanna Gregory

worm, and you would be wise to recognise it.’
    ‘The townsfolk do not like these undisciplined louts either,’ said Bartholomew, watching one particularly arrogant throng strut past. ‘Cynric told me that they are making it easy for the burglar to operate – there is so much brawling that any suspicious sounds are masked.’
    Michael sniffed. ‘Potmoor – if he
is
the culprit – is such an experienced criminal that he will not need help from noisy matriculands. Incidentally, I have lost count of the number of times that I have been told you should have kept your necromantic skills to yourself and left Potmoor dead.’
    Bartholomew groaned. ‘I used smelling salts, not witchery. And if Meryfeld, Rougham, Lawrence, Eyer the apothecary and Surgeon Holm had been halfway competent, they would have done the same.’
    ‘Perhaps they thought it was time that his reign of terror was ended. You, on the other hand, gave him the opportunity to continue.’
    ‘He would have woken anyway – patients with catalepsia usually do. Where are we going?’
    ‘To Winwick Hall. Hemmysby said they might have stolen our hutch.’
    ‘He also said he had no particular reason for thinking so.’ Bartholomew was alarmed that they were about to visit the new College on so frail a pretext.
    ‘I know. But I also have my reservations about the place – reservations that make me want to keep an eye on it. On the one hand, I am delighted that Winwick Hall is here, not in Oxford, because another endowed foundation will make our University stronger and more attractive to benefactors and students.’
    ‘But on the other?’
    ‘On the other, it arrived too quickly, and we were not ready for it. We are an old, staid organisation, and we require time to adjust to new situations.’
    ‘Oxford never needs time to adjust. They are far more forward thinking than us.’
    Michael scowled. ‘No, they are not, and you would do well to remember that if you value your position here. Anyway, I wish we had been given more time to consider. Better arrangements could have been made, especially regarding its location.’
    ‘What could be more suitable than a site next to St Mary the Great?’
    ‘Precisely! It is the best position in the entire town, and shades even King’s Hall. Moreover, it will use St Mary the Great as a chapel, and the fact that its head is called a Provost implies a degree of ownership over the place. It is the
University
Church – it belongs to all of us, not just one College.’
    ‘If you had been Chancellor, none of this would have happened. Winwick’s charter would have needed your signature before it was sent to the King, and you could have procrastinated. Perhaps you should consider standing for election when Tynkell resigns.’
    ‘But I do not want to be Chancellor! I like things the way they are, with me making all the important decisions, and him taking the blame if things go wrong.’
    ‘When he retires, he may be replaced by a less malleable man,’ warned Bartholomew.
    ‘True – which would be a nuisance. Perhaps I should arrange to have myself elected, then. It will look good for when I am promoted to a bishopric or an abbacy.’
    It was not the first time Michael had voiced the expectation that he would achieve high rank, and Bartholomew had always been amused that he expected to rise in a single bound, without the tedious steps in between. It had also not escaped his notice that Michael clearly intended to rig the vote, rather than risk the democratic process.
    Meanwhile, Michael was eyeing a gaggle of youths on the other side of the road, some of whom bore obvious signs of brawling – torn clothes, bruised fists and bloody faces.
    ‘Yet another spat with the town, I warrant,’ he grumbled. ‘And no Dick Tulyet to help me keep these louts in order.’ He referred to the Sheriff who, besides being very good at his job, was also a friend. ‘It is unfortunate that his deputy is next to worthless. But here we are