prepare a few holes before the weather turned bad that year. If there were many more
cases like the beggar’s, then they would soon run out.
After breakfast, he had planned to lecture his students on the part of Roger Bacon’s
Antidotarium
that dealt with mint, but Michael had other ideas. The monk had reluctantly conceded that he needed to forget Harysone for
a while and begin his investigation into Norbert’s murder, but he wanted Bartholomew with him when he interviewed the students
at Ovyng. Although he was a skilled investigator, it always helpedwhen the physician was there to gauge reactions and observe suspicious behaviour. Michael believed Ovyng represented his
best chance of catching Norbert’s killer, and hoped to discover that one of Norbert’s classmates had tired of his cruel tongue
and dissolute behaviour, and done away with him. With luck, the case would be resolved quickly and without the need for a
complex investigation that would give rise to rumours and speculation about whether a townsman was responsible. Michael did
not want Norbert’s murder to spark fights or ill feeling between the University and the town during a volatile period like
the Twelve Days.
It had snowed again during the night, but the fall had been light, and many feet had already trodden a groove between the
ice-cliffs along St Michael’s Lane. The wind sucked dried pellets of ice from the ground and hurled them in the scholars’
faces as they walked, causing Michael to claim that a more severe winter had not been experienced since the Creation. Bartholomew
argued that there was no way to tell, and they were still debating the issue when they arrived at the hostel.
Ovyng was a large house that had been bought for Michaelhouse in 1329, using funds left over from the founder’s will. Michaelhouse
could have used the building as accommodation for its own members, but numbers had been low since the plague, and instead
Langelee leased it to Ailred for a modest fee. Ovyng was a pleasant place, with a large chamber on the ground floor that served
as lecture hall and dining room, and two attic rooms that were used as dormitories.
When Bartholomew and Michael arrived, they found the five students sitting on wooden benches, listening to a lecture given
by Ailred himself. It was on Thomas Aquinas’s
Sermones
, and was a careful exegesis of one of the more difficult sections. It was solid scholarship, but not exciting, and the students
looked bored. Three gazed out of the window at the lumpy white blanket that smothered the vegetable patch, while the other
two sat bolt upright in an effort to stopthemselves from falling asleep. Ailred’s assistant slouched at the back of the class, checking logic exercises that had been
scratched into wax-covered tablets.
‘You know why I am here,’ said Michael, as Ailred faltered into silence and the students regarded the monk expectantly. ‘Norbert.’
‘We did not kill him,’ said Ailred’s assistant immediately. He was a large, raw-boned fellow with a ruddy face and teeth that
had been chipped into irregular points. He was not much older than his charges, and Bartholomew supposed he had been hired
because his youth and inexperience meant that he was cheap. ‘We did not like him, but we did not touch him.’
‘I am accusing no one,’ said Michael, although the cool green gaze that rested on the face of each Franciscan in turn suggested
otherwise. ‘I merely want the truth. Does anyone know anything that may help us find the perpetrator of this dreadful crime?’
‘Not really,’ said the assistant. ‘He was not one of us, you see.’
‘Godric means that he was not a Franciscan,’ elaborated Ailred, when the monk’s face indicated that there were several ways
this comment could be interpreted, all of them incriminating.
‘It was not just that,’ persisted Godric. ‘He never even tried to be friendly, and he slept more nights away than
cases like the beggar’s, then they would soon run out.
After breakfast, he had planned to lecture his students on the part of Roger Bacon’s
Antidotarium
that dealt with mint, but Michael had other ideas. The monk had reluctantly conceded that he needed to forget Harysone for
a while and begin his investigation into Norbert’s murder, but he wanted Bartholomew with him when he interviewed the students
at Ovyng. Although he was a skilled investigator, it always helpedwhen the physician was there to gauge reactions and observe suspicious behaviour. Michael believed Ovyng represented his
best chance of catching Norbert’s killer, and hoped to discover that one of Norbert’s classmates had tired of his cruel tongue
and dissolute behaviour, and done away with him. With luck, the case would be resolved quickly and without the need for a
complex investigation that would give rise to rumours and speculation about whether a townsman was responsible. Michael did
not want Norbert’s murder to spark fights or ill feeling between the University and the town during a volatile period like
the Twelve Days.
It had snowed again during the night, but the fall had been light, and many feet had already trodden a groove between the
ice-cliffs along St Michael’s Lane. The wind sucked dried pellets of ice from the ground and hurled them in the scholars’
faces as they walked, causing Michael to claim that a more severe winter had not been experienced since the Creation. Bartholomew
argued that there was no way to tell, and they were still debating the issue when they arrived at the hostel.
Ovyng was a large house that had been bought for Michaelhouse in 1329, using funds left over from the founder’s will. Michaelhouse
could have used the building as accommodation for its own members, but numbers had been low since the plague, and instead
Langelee leased it to Ailred for a modest fee. Ovyng was a pleasant place, with a large chamber on the ground floor that served
as lecture hall and dining room, and two attic rooms that were used as dormitories.
When Bartholomew and Michael arrived, they found the five students sitting on wooden benches, listening to a lecture given
by Ailred himself. It was on Thomas Aquinas’s
Sermones
, and was a careful exegesis of one of the more difficult sections. It was solid scholarship, but not exciting, and the students
looked bored. Three gazed out of the window at the lumpy white blanket that smothered the vegetable patch, while the other
two sat bolt upright in an effort to stopthemselves from falling asleep. Ailred’s assistant slouched at the back of the class, checking logic exercises that had been
scratched into wax-covered tablets.
‘You know why I am here,’ said Michael, as Ailred faltered into silence and the students regarded the monk expectantly. ‘Norbert.’
‘We did not kill him,’ said Ailred’s assistant immediately. He was a large, raw-boned fellow with a ruddy face and teeth that
had been chipped into irregular points. He was not much older than his charges, and Bartholomew supposed he had been hired
because his youth and inexperience meant that he was cheap. ‘We did not like him, but we did not touch him.’
‘I am accusing no one,’ said Michael, although the cool green gaze that rested on the face of each Franciscan in turn suggested
otherwise. ‘I merely want the truth. Does anyone know anything that may help us find the perpetrator of this dreadful crime?’
‘Not really,’ said the assistant. ‘He was not one of us, you see.’
‘Godric means that he was not a Franciscan,’ elaborated Ailred, when the monk’s face indicated that there were several ways
this comment could be interpreted, all of them incriminating.
‘It was not just that,’ persisted Godric. ‘He never even tried to be friendly, and he slept more nights away than
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