Falconer and the Death of Kings by Ian Morson Page B

What interests me more at the moment is the attempt on Edward’s own life in the Holy Lands.’
    Thomas groaned in exasperation. How could William expect to examine a crime that took place thousands of miles away? And one where again the perpetrator was known and had been punished already? Falconer read the disbelief on his young companion’s face well.
    ‘You think I am wasting my time. But even those cases where we think we know what happened can tell us a lot. Remember Aristotle’s principles from Prior Analytics . The syllogism states one supposition can be inferred from two other premises. For example, suppose all men are mortal, and all Athenians are men. Therefore…’
    ‘Yes, yes. Therefore all Athenians are mortal. William, this is me, Thomas Symon. I know this. You taught me. Besides, the youngest clerk knows this.’
    Falconer waved his arms by way of apology.
    ‘You must forgive me, Thomas. But I often find I need to convince others of the deductive methods I use to solve murders. And there is no harm in being reminded of principles now and again. Assemble the truths and compare one with the other until…’
    Thomas broke in on the lecture, trying to suppress his laughter. He added his own conclusion.
    ‘Until you are overpowered with a plethora of facts, and use your intuition instead.’
    Falconer threw a playful slap at the younger man and rocked precariously on his low stool.
    ‘Until the greater truth appears,’ he stated firmly, then paused dramatically. ‘It’s then that you use your intuition.’
    Both men now laughed, and Falconer urged Thomas to finish his beer so he could pour another one.

TEN
    T he candle was now burning low, soon to be no more than a stump in a heap of congealed wax. The ale mugs were empty – Falconer’s sitting in a pool of spilled beer. But still the two men talked deep into the night. It was now Thomas’s turn to put before his mentor what he had learned about the death of Paul Hebborn. It was precious little so far.
    ‘Though he had no particular friends, there are four students with whom he associated most. All centred on Geoffrey Malpoivre.’
    ‘The rich one.’
    ‘Yes. He is the one with money, and he makes use of the power it gives him. He denigrated Paul and made fun of his stammer. He can be cruel, but cruel enough to kill is another matter.’
    ‘And the other three?’
    ‘Peter de la Casteigne is a joker, always ready with a jest. I can imagine him hurting Paul’s feelings without realizing it. But as for having a reason for killing him? Who knows? Then we have Jack Hellequin. I like him, and I can’t see him having killed. He seemed so concerned about Paul’s death, but for now he must remain on the list.’
    ‘And the fourth one?’
    ‘That is John Fusoris. He is a Picard, but I have not yet spoken to him as he has not returned to the medical school since Paul died.’
    ‘Do you know why?’
    Thomas picked up on the suspicion in Falconer’s tones.
    ‘Not yet. The others say he had been drinking heavily the night Paul fell – or was pushed – from the tower.’ Thomas automatically corrected himself as he saw Falconer lift a warning finger. ‘He may be recovering from a hangover… or…’
    ‘From a deep sense of guilt.’
    ‘Yes. But let us not jump to conclusions too rapidly. Guilt is not yet an axiom – a self-evident truth – in his case.’
    Falconer peered closely at Thomas in the gloom caused by the guttering of the single candle that stood on the table beside them.
    ‘I am glad you explained the meaning of an axiom for me, Master Symon.’
    Thomas blushed, but he held his own.
    ‘In the same way you explained a syllogism earlier.’
    ‘I think we are both tired and fractious, Thomas. The impending doom of our solitary candle suggests it is time to retire. I shall bid you a good night.’
    ‘Goodnight, William.’
    Both men retreated to their respective beds, pulled off their outer robes and lay back on the narrow pallets