A Poisonous Plot by Susanna Gregory

recently deemed illegal,’ replied Wayt. ‘It is smuggled through the Fens to avoid import tax, so you will not see any in King’s Hall.’
    ‘Tell me again what happened when Frenge came and did all that damage,’ ordered Michael, whose refined palate told him that sucura had been in the soul-cakes he had just eaten. However, he was unwilling to waste time on the argument that would follow if he said so.
    ‘It was a week ago now,’ obliged Dodenho. ‘We were all at table, and did not know he was here until we heard the pigs rampaging in the yard. We hurried out to see Frenge driving them towards our hall. He turned his attention to the geese then, and chased them into the orchard.’
    ‘We followed, but he managed to evade us,’ said Wayt. ‘Then I saw him hiding behind the buttress. Cew was nearby, but before I could shout a warning, Frenge had ambushed him.’
    ‘Frenge escaped in the ensuing confusion,’ finished Dodenho, ‘and poor Cew has not been in his right mind ever since.’
    ‘It was an outrage,’ said Wayt angrily. ‘We are right to sue Frenge for damages.’
    ‘You cannot sue him now he is dead,’ said Michael. ‘He—’
    ‘Oh, yes, we can,’ countered Wayt. ‘We shall transfer our claim to his estate – the brewery he part-owned. That will show the town that they cannot get the better of us, not even if they die.’
    ‘In the interests of good relations—’ began Michael in alarm.
    ‘No,’ hissed Wayt. ‘We will not withdraw. Frenge did us a lot of harm, and we intend to ensure that he pays for it. His death is irrelevant as far as I am concerned.’
    ‘There are rumours that King’s Hall murdered him,’ said Michael, also growing angry. ‘If you persist with this lawsuit, everyone will believe them.’
    ‘Do you think we care what townsfolk believe? Their opinions matter nothing to us.’
    ‘Well, they matter to me,’ said Michael, controlling his temper with difficulty. ‘And my investigation must be one of which they will approve or we shall have a riot. That means interviewing every member of King’s Hall about the crime, which we shall do at once. Assemble them, if you please.’
    ‘What, all of them?’ asked Dodenho, startled. ‘This very moment?’
    ‘If you would be so kind.’
    Interrogating every member of King’s Hall was a daunting task, as there were more than forty Fellows, all of whom had at least two students, not to mention an army of servants. Fortunately, the College had held a feast to mark the beginning of Hallow-tide, so most had an alibi for the three-hour window in which Frenge had died.
    Michael was thoughtful when he and Bartholomew eventually left. ‘Only three of the Fellows cannot account for their whereabouts: Wayt went to attend urgent College business in his quarters; Dodenho disappeared to practise a lecture; and Cew was left unattended in his quarters, so no one knows whether he stayed there or went a-wandering.’
    ‘Can you really see any of them invading the Austin Priory to commit murder?’ asked Bartholomew doubtfully.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ replied Michael. ‘Very easily, if you want the truth. Wayt is viciously spiteful, Dodenho thinks he is cleverer than the rest of us, while Cew is insane. Or is he? He might be pretending in the hope that we will exclude him from our enquiries. Well? Is it possible?’
    ‘I suppose so. Can we go home now? It is getting dark, and it is reckless to be out while so many drunken townsmen are spoiling for a fight.’
    ‘I ordered a curfew for all scholars between dusk and dawn, and it would not do for the Senior Proctor to set a bad example.’ Michael grinned at Bartholomew. ‘Which means I have the perfect excuse to stay in and enjoy tonight’s celebrations.’
    The High Street was teeming, pitch torches bobbing in the gathering gloom as folk gravitated towards St Mary the Great, outside which the procession would start. Many folk were also still traipsing around the homes of friends and