A Plague on Both Your Houses by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page B

William
    were already there with Wilson’s book-bearer, Gilbert, and the commoners from the next room. Alcote and
    William said that they had been working together in
    William’s rooms on material for a public debate they
    were to hold the next day, and since William’s room
    was directly below that of Augustus, had been the
    first to arrive. Gilbert, always ferreting information and gossip for Wilson, had materialised from nowhere, and
    Alexander never seemed to sleep.
    Bartholomew screwed up his eyes. But one other
    person had also arrived before him. Brother Michael
    had been there. He had been dishevelled, as was
    Bartholomew, having been woken from his sleep, but
    Michael’s room was above Bartholomew’s, so he must
    have moved with uncharacteristic haste to have arrived first. Unless he had been there already. The thought
    came unbidden into Bartholomew’s mind. Michael was
    dishevelled. Had he been involved in a tussle with
    Augustus and set a fire under the bed? Was Brother
    Michael the devil of Augustus’s mind? But Augustus’s
    door had been locked from the inside, and Michael had
    helped Bartholomew to break it down.
    It made no sense. Why would Michael wish Augustus
    harm? Michael was a monk: a rarity in the University,
    where friars and priests abounded, but Benedictine
    monks were uncommon. Bartholomew reached for the
    damaged wood and scratched it with his fingernail. It
    was quite deeply burnt, not merely singed, so whoever
    had started the fire had meant business. Bartholomew
    thought again. The room had been horribly smoky,
    enough to make his eyes smart, but the windows were
    open, and the draught was sucking the smoke back down
    the chimney where it was billowing into the room. He
    remembered asking Alexander to douse the fire to allow some fresh air to circulate. Any evidence of smoke from under the bed would have been masked by the fire in
    the hearth.
    He felt angry at himself. He had not believed for an
    instant that there could have been any degree of truth in Augustus’s story. But what if his other ramblings held grains of truth? What of his statements today? What
    had he said? Something to the effect that evil was afoot and would corrupt them all, especially those who were
    unaware, and that Sir John had begun to guess and look what had happened to him.
    Bartholomew felt his blood run cold. Sir John’ s sudden demise had taken everyone by surprise; he had certainly not seemed suicidal the night of his death as Bartholomew could attest. What if he had not committed
    suicide? What if there was truth in senile Augustus’s
    mumblings, and Sir John had begun to guess something?
    But what? Michaelhouse had its petty rivalries and bids for power, as, no doubt, every other College and hostel in the University did. But Bartholomew found it hard
    to imagine that there could be anything so important as to warrant the taking of lives. And anyway, Michael and Bartholomew had seen Augustus alive before the feast,
    and none of the Fellows, commoners, or students had
    left the hall before Bartholomew had been summoned
    by Alexander.
    He slid out from under the bed for a second time
    and dusted himself off. He looked down at Augustus’s
    sprawled corpse, at the horrified look on the face. Sitting on the bed, he began a rigorous inspection of the body.
    He sniffed at the mouth to check for any signs of poison; he ran his fingers through Augustus’s wispy hair to see if he had been struck on the head; he lifted the bed-gown to look for any small puncture marks or bruises; and,
    finally, he examined the hands. There was nothing, not even a fibre trapped under the fingernails. There was
    not a mark on the body, and not the merest hint of
    blood. Aware that the chrism may have masked the
    smell of poison, Bartholomew prised the dead man’s
    mouth open again, and, holding the lamp close, looked
    carefully for any redness or swelling on the tongue or gums. Nothing.
    He began to feel foolish. It had been a