Death of a Scholar by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page A

elaborated Langelee. ‘He was very devout, and we must all contemplate his great holiness.’
    ‘Why was he eating walnuts while celebrating Mass?’ asked William suspiciously. ‘And I was not aware that Rome went in for kings.’
    ‘It was a long time ago,’ stated Langelee, the curt tone of his voice indicating that the discussion was over. ‘When things were different. Now let us pray.’
    He bowed his head and clasped his hands in an entirely uncharacteristic pose of piety, forcing those who were in holy orders to do likewise. As this was all the Fellows except Bartholomew, there was blessed peace, broken only by the rattle of spoons on pewter bowls.
    The fare was dismal as usual, comprising a watery stew laced with gristle and undercooked onion – fuel was expensive, and one economy was not lighting the kitchen fire until later in the day, which meant that food was often served semi-raw. There was nothing else except a few late nuts from the orchard, so it had to be eaten, but Fellows and students alike grimaced their distaste. Langelee was about to say a final grace when Cynric, Bartholomew’s book-bearer, appeared. Bartholomew started to stand, assuming he had come with a summons from a patient, but Cynric went to the Master instead.
    ‘I cannot find the Stanton Hutch,’ he said, perturbed. ‘You asked me to collect it from the cellar and put it in the conclave, ready for your meeting. But it is not there.’
    Langelee turned to William and Thelnetham. ‘Have either of you taken it?’
    Both Fellows shook their heads. ‘However, I can tell you that it contains fifty marks and five pence,’ said William.
    ‘Fifty marks and
nine
pence,’ corrected Thelnetham crisply.
    ‘More,’ gulped Langelee, speaking in a low voice so that the students would not hear. ‘A
lot
more. A couple of weeks ago, I discovered that rats had attacked the box where we keep the College’s valuables. I put them in the Stanton Hutch instead, as it is thicker and I thought they would be safer. If the chest has gone, then it means the College is penniless. Literally!’

CHAPTER 2
    It did not take Michaelhouse’s agitated Master and Fellows long to determine that the heavy box containing the money, books and jewels of the Stanton Hutch, along with virtually every other item of value the College owned, was not on the premises. After a brief and very panicky search they met in the cellar beneath the kitchen, where the hutches were stored.
    ‘But it cannot have gone!’ breathed Langelee, white-faced with horror. ‘Everything is in it, including all the fees I have collected for the coming term.’
    ‘I hope you did not put the deeds for our various properties in it,’ said Michael worriedly. ‘Without them, we cannot prove ownership.’
    ‘Of course I did! Documents are far more vulnerable to rats than coins, and I aimed to protect them. I repeat:
everything
is in there, even the Stanton Cup.’
    There was renewed consternation. The Stanton Cup had been bequeathed by their founder, and was by far their most cherished possession. Silver gilt and studded with precious stones, it was priceless, but although the College was constantly struggling for funds, it would never be sold.
    ‘Someone will give it back,’ said Hemmysby soothingly. ‘Do not worry.’
    ‘Give it back?’ spluttered Langelee. ‘What kind of thief returns his spoils? We shall never see it again, and this disaster means we face the biggest crisis in our existence.’
    ‘It is certainly the biggest crisis in mine,’ gulped Thelnetham. ‘I left a pledge in the Stanton Hutch – a bestiary with a gold-leaf cover. My Prior General lent it to me, and I was going to redeem it this week, because he wants it back. What shall I say to him? He will skin me alive!’
    ‘You borrowed the money to buy yourself a pair of red shoes,’ said William with gleeful spite. ‘So it serves you right.’
    ‘What shall we do?’ asked Suttone, his shocked voice cutting