Death of a Scholar by Susanna Gregory

funds?’ asked Hemmysby. ‘I know we have enough fuel for a few weeks, because I bought some in August, but what about food? If we have any more nuts, we should sell them. They will fetch a good price at the market, and they are a silly extravagance anyway – I cannot abide the things.’
    ‘We had the last of them today,’ replied William, who was a regular visitor to the kitchen and its stores. ‘But we have peas and beans for a month. The hens will stop laying soon, so I suggest we eat them and—’
    ‘
No!
’ said Clippesby fiercely. He had one of the birds in his arms, and he hugged her protectively. ‘There is nothing wrong with living on vegetables and grain for a while.’
    ‘I am not giving up meat,’ stated Michael. ‘I would rather go naked.’
    ‘Let us hope it does not come to that,’ said Thelnetham, shuddering at the prospect. ‘However,
I
can dine in the Gilbertine Priory, so I am not concerned about food. What does worry me is the loss of the deeds that prove we own our churches and manors.’
    ‘I shall forge replacements,’ determined Michael, ignoring the blatant selfishness of Thelnetham’s remark. ‘And we will just have to brazen it out if anyone challenges them.’
    ‘Fair enough,’ said William. ‘No one will question our probity.’
    ‘Someone might question yours,’ muttered Thelnetham, eyeing the grimy Franciscan in distaste. ‘Then we shall all be exposed as liars.’
    ‘You have not seen the high quality of Michael’s forgeries,’ said Hemmysby with a smile, speaking before William could respond. ‘They will convince even the most distrustful of sceptics.’
    ‘I blame Winwick Hall, personally,’ said William. ‘The town hates the idea of another College, while our fellow scholars are suspicious of a place that has been founded with such unseemly haste. Someone has burgled us in revenge.’
    ‘That makes no sense,’ said Thelnetham impatiently. ‘Why pick on us?’
    ‘Because the Senior Proctor lives here,’ explained William. ‘And he runs the University. They think
he
brought Winwick into being, even though we know he is innocent.’
    ‘It is possible,’ sighed Hemmysby soberly. ‘Winwick Hall has caused a lot of resentment. Perhaps someone
has
decided to punish us for Michael’s role in bringing it into being.’
    Thoroughly rattled, Langelee organised a more systematic search of the College and its grounds to ensure that a student had not hidden the chest as a prank, leaving Michael to question the other two hutch managers. The monk spoke to Thelnetham and William in the cellar, while Bartholomew prowled with a lamp, looking for clues and listening with half an ear to the discussion.
    ‘When did you last see the Stanton Hutch?’ Michael asked them.
    ‘In July,’ replied William promptly. ‘We have had no requests for loans since then, so there has been no need to look at it.’
    ‘I saw it last week.’ Thelnetham regarded William coolly. ‘
I
take my responsibilities seriously, even if you do not. I check regularly to ensure it is safe.’
    ‘I did not think it was necessary,’ countered William. ‘We never had trouble with thieves before
you
arrived. Yet you must get the money from somewhere to pay for your fripperies…’
    ‘I inspected the chest six days ago – Tuesday,’ said Thelnetham to Michael, not gracing the accusation with a response. ‘I did not open it, but it was in its usual spot. However, it occurred to me then that it was vulnerable – Langelee keeps the key to the cellar in his quarters, which he often leaves unattended. It would not be difficult for someone to walk in and take it.’
    ‘We have a good porter,’ objected William. ‘He repels anyone he does not know.’
    ‘That assumes the thief came from outside,’ Thelnetham pointed out. ‘But if that were true, how did he know where to find the key? And the door
was
opened with a key, because there would be scratch marks on the lock if it had been forced or