Death of a Scholar (53 page)

Another violent gust shook the building, and an agonised yowl caused Bartholomew to glance through the window. Nerli’s sword, hurled like a spear, had impaled someone. Unfortunately, far from deterring the invaders, it drew a chorus of outraged yells, and the assault intensified.

‘Enough,’ snapped Michael. ‘We must bring an end to this before we are all torn to—’

‘No one will touch de Stannell and me,’ averred Bon confidently. ‘We are members of the Guild of Saints, which is loved for its charity.’

‘Not since you have taken the food from the mouths of widows and beggars,’ said Bartholomew warningly. ‘Which is why you killed Knyt, of course – a man who was beginning to baulk at the amount of money Winwick wanted. And you tried to kill Michael with poisoned cakes, while you succeeded in dispatching Hemmysby with a gift – no doubt sent after he overheard you making plans to burgle Michaelhouse.’

Bon’s milky eyes narrowed. ‘I killed Hemmysby for humiliating me at the debate. He should have eaten the raisin tart on the evening of the first day, and I was livid when he appeared to belittle me again the following morning. I shall kill Thelnetham when he arrives to take up his Fellowship, too, but only after he changes his will in Winwick’s favour, of course.’

‘Ratclyf was not poisoned with
dormirella
, though,’ said de Stannell. ‘Regardless of the tale you put about.’

‘He died of remorse,’ declared Michael. ‘Lawrence saw him next to Elvesmere’s coffin, weeping and begging for forgiveness.
He
felt guilty about a colleague’s murder, even if you do not.’

‘You were afraid he would break and expose you,’ said Bartholomew. ‘And he
was
poisoned, but not with
dormirella
. He had a sore throat, so you gave him liquorice root, knowing exactly what it would do to his weak heart.’

Bon shrugged. ‘It was for the greater good – the future of Winwick Hall. He was a vile man.’

‘What is wrong with letting Winwick grow naturally, like the other Colleges?’

‘That will take years, and I want my rewards now,’ replied de Stannell. He smirked. ‘So the decision was made to speed it along.’

Bon ignored him, and Bartholomew saw he had scant regard for his helpmeet. ‘Our founder took a chance with me – no one else wanted a blind scholar – so I have taken one for him.’ He turned to de Stannell. ‘He will be here soon, so oust those louts from our yard before—’

‘What about Heyford?’ interrupted Michael. ‘Did you poison him, too, after Jekelyn failed to incinerate him for you?’

‘Yes, with dwale. It did not work.’ There was another chorus of howls from below, and Bon made an impatient gesture to de Stannell. ‘Shoot this pair, and then get rid of that mob before they do us any damage. We cannot have the founder—’

‘It is the burglaries that have done the greatest harm,’ interrupted Michael, ignoring the deputy’s show of taking a firmer grip on the weapon. ‘By stealing for Winwick Hall, you have destroyed the fragile truce between University and town, and set us at each other’s throats.’

‘Which is exactly what Bon intended,’ explained de Stannell, clearly glad of a few more moments to summon up his courage. ‘The other Colleges will be destroyed or weakened by it, thus eliminating the competition. Moreover, it was clever to have Potmoor blamed.’

‘Hardly!’ exclaimed Michael. ‘He is Winwick Hall’s biggest benefactor.’

‘Something Illesy should have told me sooner,’ said Bon sourly, while de Stannell blinked his astonishment at the revelation. ‘I thought Potmoor was just a felon whose fondness for our College was an affront. I would have used another scapegoat had Illesy been open with us.’

‘Do you really think the University will survive with just Winwick and a handful of hostels?’ asked Michael scornfully. ‘The Colleges give it stability: without them it will founder. So unless you want Winwick to fail before it is properly established, help me put an end to this mischief.’

‘Winwick will not fail.’ Bon glanced irritably towards de Stannell. ‘Hurry
up
, man! Or do you want me to come and do it?’

Bartholomew winced as the battering ram dealt the door such a blow that he felt the vibrations through the floor. ‘Winwick
will
fail if they break in. They mean you serious harm.’

‘De Stannell!’ barked Bon. ‘For God’s sake, kill this pair and oust that rabble before—’

‘Oust them?’ echoed Michael. ‘And how do you propose he does that?’

‘They will disperse on my orders,’ bragged de Stannell. ‘I have soldiers waiting. All I have to do is yell, and they will race to save us. Bon? Shall I?’

The battering ram struck home so violently that the whole edifice trembled, and a clump of plaster dropped from the wall. Bon started in alarm.

‘Yes, call them. Quickly!’

The deputy went to the window and bellowed at the top of his voice. The wind snatched his words away, although there were answering jeers from the yard. He tried again.

Suddenly, there was a crack that was far louder than anything they had heard so far. Everyone looked around in alarm, and Michael stabbed his finger at a large fissure that had appeared in the wall. Moments later, Illesy thundered down the stairs and flung open the door.

‘The fallen buttress, the wind and the battering ram have rendered the building unstable,’ he yelled. ‘We cannot stay here a moment longer. It is set to collapse!’

‘Collapse?’ echoed Bon. ‘No! It is the best hall in the—’

‘Fool!’ shrieked the Provost. ‘It was raised so fast that the foundations are too shallow, the mortar was not given time to set, and the workmanship is shoddy. If you were able to see, you would not be making asinine claims about its quality.’

Furious at the insult, Bon tore forward with a knife in his hand. The Provost was too startled to defend himself, and went down in a flurry of blows. He was dead before Bartholomew or Michael could move to help him.

‘There,’ said Bon in satisfaction, keeping a grip on the weapon and obviously ready to use it again. ‘Now I shall be Provost.’

When Bon and de Stannell began an urgent discussion in hissing undertones, Bartholomew decided it was time to make a move before anyone else died. De Stannell posed no threat, so he hurtled towards Bon, but the lawyer’s reactions were faster than he had anticipated, and he was sent sprawling by a well-timed punch. Moments later, Lawrence entered. He faltered at the sight of Bartholomew on the floor and de Stannell with a crossbow. When he saw Illesy, his face drained of colour and he hurried to kneel next to him. Then Nerli arrived.

‘What is going on?’ demanded the Florentine. ‘Did that rabble kill Illesy? By God and all that is holy I will track down the villain and make him pay.’

‘I think we have found our culprits at last, Nerli,’ said Lawrence in a small voice, looking first at de Stannell and then at Bon. ‘You crossed Bon off our list of suspects, but…’

‘
You
have been investigating?’ asked Bon dangerously.

Nerli reached for his sword, only to find it was not at his side. He grimaced, but his voice was steady as he replied. ‘Two of our Fellows vilely poisoned, along with Knyt and Hemmysby, who were the best of men? Of course we were looking into the matter.’

‘You are part of it, Lawrence,’ said Michael accusingly. ‘Do not try to deceive us.’

Bartholomew glanced at Nerli, and saw the Florentine’s muscles bunch as he prepared to leap at Bon. But there was a sudden movement behind him, and he pitched forward with a cry of pain. Eyer stood there, his pink face cold and hard. The apothecary held a crossbow in one hand and a bloodstained dagger in the other.

‘No,’ whispered Bartholomew in stunned disbelief. ‘Not you as well.’

‘I should have known,’ said Lawrence contemptuously. ‘You were a rogue at Oxford, and you are a rogue now. I should have spoken out the moment I recognised you, but I thought you deserved a second chance. I suppose you did it for money? You always were a greedy fellow.’

Eyer shrugged. ‘Establishing a new business is expensive, so I was delighted to start earning profits sooner than I expected.’

‘But you are wealthy,’ objected Bartholomew, bewildered. ‘A member of the Guild of—’

‘I joined for appearances’ sake, as I told you,’ snapped Eyer. ‘People are more likely to trust a rich apothecary than one who can barely make ends meet.’

‘Then why have you been giving me free remedies for the poor?’

‘To put you in my debt, so you will feel obliged to buy medicines from me in the future. I did the same with the other physicians, careful to make each think that he is the only one so favoured.’

Answers tumbled into Bartholomew’s head. ‘You tried to make me suspect Lawrence and Nerli by telling me that they were Potmoor’s minions. You also said they engaged in questionable business after dark, and bought realgar, dwale and hemlock—’

‘Lies,’ interrupted Lawrence contemptuously. ‘I am too old to venture out at night, and I rarely use potent herbs – I have seen too many accidents to be comfortable with them. Such as at Oxford, when a certain patient was killed with liquorice root.’

Eyer smiled coldly. ‘A lesson that has been of considerable use to me in eliminating rivals, as Ratclyf learned to his cost. I imagine your heart is not what it was when you were young, so perhaps I shall give you a dose, too.’

‘Enough!’ snapped Bon, as another crash on the door caused a sconce to drop off the wall. He gestured to Bartholomew. ‘Pick up Nerli, and put him in the corner. I can hear him breathing, and we do not want him sneaking off while we are not looking.’

The Florentine had been saved from serious injury by the thick leather of his sword belt, and feigned unconsciousness as he was dragged across the room. Unfortunately, Eyer was alert for tricks, and Bartholomew hoped Nerli understood the warning pinch he managed to deliver before he was ordered to stand with Michael and Lawrence against the far wall. Eyer kept the crossbow trained on his captives while he held a muttered conference with his associates.

‘We should have rushed de Stannell while we could,’ whispered Michael, disgusted with himself. ‘Now we are in trouble, because Eyer will not scruple to shoot unarmed men. We were stupid, too greedy for answers.’

Upstairs, and oblivious to the drama unfolding in the hall below, the defenders continued to lob anything they could find out of the windows, while the wind screamed through the broken panes and made the timbers groan. Bon broke away from his accomplices, and began to strip the rings – Potmoor’s rings – from Illesy’s fingers.

‘I am the stupid one,’ mumbled Lawrence. ‘Eyer is often here with potions for Bon’s eyes, but we all know there is no cure for hypochyma. He came to plot with his paymaster, and I should have guessed it, especially knowing what he was capable of from Oxford.’

‘The writing on the blackmail letters,’ said Bartholomew in a low voice. ‘Now I know why it was familiar: it is on the medicines I buy. Doubtless, Eyer also penned the notes to Uyten, the ones purporting to be from Illesy.’

Eyer overheard and shrugged. ‘Your Michaelhouse colleagues are unlikely to make the connection, and you will not be alive to tell them. I defeated them with ease when I collected the five marks they tried to fob us off with on Monday.’

‘You mean ten marks,’ said Michael.

‘He is trying to make trouble,’ said Eyer to Bon. ‘For spite, because I flung sand in his Master’s eyes. It was only five marks, I assure you.’

‘Never mind this now,’ said de Stannell urgently. ‘Illesy was right when he said the building is ripe for collapse. That crack is getting bigger.’

Everyone looked at it: the dust that trickled out in a continuous stream did not bode well. Another thud from the battering ram shook loose a more vigorous fall. When a mighty gust of wind buffeted the building, it opened even wider.

Bartholomew turned back to Eyer. ‘You are the “friend” who helped Bon poison Elvesmere when the stabbing went awry. And you supplied him with
dormirella
, confident in the belief that it is undetectable.’

‘I thought it
was
undetectable. I have never read anything about blue lips.’

‘Did you invade Michaelhouse, too?’ asked Michael. ‘And steal William’s tract when the Stanton Hutch was unavailable?’

‘The tract,’ grinned Bon. ‘As soon as it was read to me, I knew we could put it to good use. We shall make it public later, and when you and Bartholomew fail to return home today, everyone will assume you fled to avoid the consequences.’

‘Potmoor has suffered from headaches ever since I used your
sal ammoniac
,’ said Bartholomew, fearful now that he knew the apothecary was so coldly ruthless. ‘What was in it?’

‘A toxin of my own creation,’ replied Eyer. ‘I shall sell it to wealthy clerks in time, men who will pay handsomely for an easy way to be rid of inconvenient enemies.’

‘We hoped you would kill a few paupers with it,’ added Bon, ‘which would have turned the town against Michaelhouse
and
reduced the number of beggars demanding alms – money that could then come here. It seems our plan misfired, given that Potmoor has been generous to us.’

Bartholomew continued to stare at Eyer. ‘But you are not a bad man. You helped me rescue Heyford from the fire.’

‘You misread my intentions.’ When Nerli stirred slightly on the floor, Eyer tensed, fingers poised ready to shoot. ‘I was going to
stop
you from saving him, but then I remembered that you had fought at Poitiers.’

The whole building released an ominous creak, and the wind ripped another four panes of glass from their lead frames with sharp pops.

‘No!’ cried Bon, gazing at the ruined windows in dismay. Then he became businesslike. ‘De Stannell, go and delay the founder for the time it will take us to disguise the damage. Potmoor will lend us a tapestry to hide the crack, and a glazier can be hired to—’

‘It will take more than a tapestry and a few new panes to convince John Winwick that all is well,’ interrupted Michael. ‘It is over, Bon! You have lost.’

‘The barrage from upstairs has stopped.’ De Stannell’s voice was suddenly shrill with alarm. It grew more so when he glanced out of the window to assess what was happening in the yard. ‘And the mob is now swollen with matriculands who seem to have forgotten which side they are on. Perhaps the Michaelhouse men are right – we
are
in danger!’