Falconer and the Death of Kings by Ian Morson Read Free Book Online Page A

me with unspeakable violence to obey their will.’
    Falconer was alarmed by the change in Roger’s voice. Now it was unusually uncertain, his tone wavering. He grasped his friend by both shoulders, as an embarrassed Thomas Symon looked away.
    ‘But now you are free to do as you please again. See – we are here.’
    Bacon shrugged.
    ‘But I’m still spied on and suspected of heresy.’ He turned back to the table and sat down on the stool again. ‘Now, when I set down my thoughts, I am reduced to using cipher.’
    Both Falconer and Symon looked over his shoulder at the parchment he indicated. It was the one he had been scribbling on when they arrived. Neither could immediately fathom the orthography, which was made up of simple strokes and curls. The text was dense, and as Bacon had been writing it like a normal language, and not ciphering every letter as he went along, Falconer assumed it was a language of his own creation. But before either visitor could look too closely, the friar nervously covered the text with a blank sheet of parchment. Then he stared at the two men with a serious look on his face.
    ‘But that is not why I asked Pecham to get a message to you, William. I am minded to compile a new compendium of knowledge. And I need a safe way of getting it from inside these walls.’
    Falconer frowned at the problem Roger had presented to him. But it was Thomas who immediately saw the means of securing safe passage for Bacon’s compendium. And in a way that would give him a task that would please him greatly. He spoke up boldly.
    ‘Have you permission to leave the friary from time to time, Brother Roger?’
    Bacon frowned, wondering what the young man intended by the question.
    ‘Yes, of course I may. As long as it is only for a few hours each day.’
    Falconer immediately saw what Thomas Symon was proposing. He punched the young man’s shoulder with joy.
    ‘Thomas, I think, is suggesting that your own head is the very vessel which can carry your ideas unseen past the portals of this friary.’
    Symon nodded eagerly.
    ‘Yes. I have visited a number of the medical schools already, and I could arrange for you to teach at one. Every day, you could come to the school ostensibly to teach, and could dictate what is in your head to me. I have a good, clear hand, and can take down what you say at a reasonable speed.’
    Bacon laughed out loud.
    ‘I will be smuggling my encyclopedia out piecemeal.’ He shook the young Thomas by the hand, but had a warning for him. ‘It will take up much of your time for many months.’
    ‘I have not much else to do. And I will be learning as I write.’
    Bacon turned to his old friend Falconer.
    ‘And you, William, what do you propose to do all this time?’
    Falconer smiled easily.
    ‘I have tired of my official task – that of understanding Bishop Tempier’s Condemnations. I will look into the death of this student who fell from the Notre-Dame tower. After that, I am sure something will come along to keep me busy.’
    He was not to know that Sir John Appleby already had orders from King Edward to track down this Oxford master who was adept at solving cases of mysterious death. And so was blissfully unaware that he would soon be embroiled in a labyrinth of mysteries that would tax him to the limits of his brain.

SIX
    T he streets on the south bank of Paris were almost empty of people. A heavy downpour had driven everyone indoors, and the wet pavements gleamed like pewter, reflecting the dark grey clouds that scudded over the city. Falconer kept under the overhanging eaves for shelter from the rain as he retraced his steps towards St-Cosmé church. He was going in search of the body of Paul Hebborn, the student who had fallen from the top of Notre-Dame Cathedral. He would have preferred to have Thomas with him as he didn’t like looking too closely at corpses. But Symon’s skills as a scribe were sorely needed by Roger Bacon, so he had left the young man planning his task