A Vein of Deceit by Susanna Gregory

nightmares,’ explained Thelnetham. ‘He cries and whimpers, and not all of us are heavy sleepers like you. He wakes us
     up. You must talk to him, find out what is causing these night-terrors.’
    ‘I have tried. But he denies there is a problem, and I cannot force—’
    There was a sharp knock on the door, and Cynric burst in. His face was pale and his hands were shaking badly. Bartholomew
     regarded him in alarm – the book-bearer was not easily disturbed.
    ‘It is Master Langelee.’ Cynric took a deep, steadying breath. ‘He has been murdered.’

CHAPTER 2
    Bartholomew raced out of Michaelhouse, medical bag banging at his side. It was raining heavily, and the night was dark, so
     it was difficult to see where he was going. He tripped twice, but did not slow down – he could not, not when his stomach churned
     in horror at Cynric’s news, and all he wanted was to reach Master Langelee as quickly as possible. He was so agitated that
     he was only vaguely aware of Michael puffing along behind him; Cynric ran at his side.
    ‘The Master was just leaving King’s Hall when he was attacked,’ panted Cynric. ‘Tobias, their porter, saw it happen, and thinks
     Osa Gosse is responsible.’
    It was not far to King’s Hall, Cambridge’s largest, richest and most powerful College, and when Bartholomew arrived, there
     were three people in the street outside it. The first was its head, Thomas Powys. Powys had been Warden for years, and Bartholomew
     knew he must be good at his job, or the King, who loved to meddle in the College’s affairs, would have replaced him. The second
     was Tobias the porter, who held a lamp. And the third was Langelee, lying motionless on the ground. Bartholomew felt sick,
     appalled to be losing yet another colleague to the violence that erupted so often in the little Fen-edge town.
    ‘I sent for you as soon as I saw it happen,’ said Tobias, moving forward with the lantern when Bartholomew skidded to a halt
     and knelt to examine his fallen comrade. He sounded horror-stricken. ‘I could not believe it.’
    ‘What happened?’ gasped Michael, resting his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. It had been a hard sprint
     for a man of his girth.
    ‘A vicious little villain stepped out of the shadows and stabbed him,’ replied Tobias, shaking his head incredulously as he
     spoke. ‘Master Langelee was twice his size, so it was like David and Goliath. I am amazed Gosse had the courage to tackle
     someone with
his
reputation.’
    ‘What reputation?’ asked Powys. He was a pleasant man, with long teeth, dark eyes and a stoop.
    ‘As a dirty fighter,’ explained Tobias. ‘
I
would not have taken Master Langelee on, and I am a professional soldier.’
    ‘Are you sure it was Gosse?’ demanded Michael. ‘You saw his face?’
    ‘No,’ admitted Tobias reluctantly. ‘It was dark. But who else could it have been? It was only ever a matter of time before
     he went from theft to murder.’
    ‘If only Paxtone had been home,’ said Powys shakily. ‘He might have been able to save Langelee. But he is dining with Doctor
     Rougham at Gonville Hall – and now it is too late!’
    ‘Langelee told me he was coming here tonight,’ said the monk. His face was pale in the gleam of the lamp, and his voice was
     not quite steady. Like Bartholomew, he was fond of the Master, despite Langelee’s myriad idiosyncrasies. ‘Why did you invite
     him?’
    ‘He invited himself,’ said Powys, wringing his hands miserably. ‘Because Michaelhouse was having beetroot. I told him it was
     late – that he should not stay to help us drink yet another cask of wine – but he said he could look after himself. I should
     have insisted he leave sooner. This is
my
fault!’
    ‘It is no one’s fault,’ said Bartholomew. ‘And he is—’
    ‘It is one thing to murder students,’ whispered Michael.There was a catch in his voice, and his eyes were moist. ‘But this is our Master, and I will not