Read Online Murder by the Book by Susanna Gregory - Free Book Online Page B

procedure. Brave and noble.’
    ‘You do?’ asked Bartholomew, taken off guard. He was unused to praise for his surgical skills.
    Julitta nodded. ‘He said that he would not have dared do it, and was astonished that you did.’
    Bartholomew made no reply, but was dismayed to hear that a tried and tested technique like trephining was beyond the talents of the town’s new surgeon. In fact, he recalled being unimpressed with Holm’s ‘help’ during the entire procedure, and it added to his growing suspicion that the man was not as proficient as he would have everyone believe.
    ‘Perhaps you should not have bothered,’ said Dunning tartly, ‘given that Coslaye recovered to spread lies about the promises I am alleged to have made.’
    ‘Really, Father!’ admonished Julitta. ‘That is not a nice thing to say, and Coslaye has his virtues. He is said to be an excellent teacher.’
    ‘You are quite right, my dear,’ said Dunning with a sigh. ‘It has been a long day and I am tired. We had better go home before weariness leads me to say something else I do not mean.’
    They moved away. Bartholomew watched them go, and might have stared at Julitta until she was out of sight, had Michael not prodded him, bringing him to his senses.
    The two scholars resumed their journey, but had not gone far before their attention was caught by an altercation between four men. Browne was one of them, and Principal Coslaye another. Coslaye was a large man with rough, soldierly features and a notoriously hot temper, and he was shouting at the top of his voice. The objects of his ire were Riborowe and Jorz from the Carmelite Priory, and there was a lot of finger-wagging involved.
    Bartholomew skirted to one side, loath to become involved in any debate that involved the waving of digits; in his experience men who employed such gestures were invariably bigots and closed to reason. However, the Senior Proctor could not walk past a quarrel that looked set to become violent, and when Coslaye jabbed Riborowe hard enough to make the skinny friar stagger, Michael stepped forward to intervene.
    ‘What seems to be the problem?’ he asked, interposing his considerable bulk between them.
    ‘There is a rumour that the University is going to sell Newe Inn’s garden to the Carmelites,’ explained Browne when his Principal was too enraged to speak. ‘But Chancellor Tynkell said
we
could have first refusal on any sale of land.’
    Riborowe sneered at him. ‘If you took Tynkell’s word for anything, you are a fool. He will say anything for a quiet life, and is always reneging on agreements.’
    ‘Tynkell would have pledged no such thing,’ said Michael firmly. ‘He knows better than to annoy me further with anything concerning the Common Library.’
    That was certainly true, thought Bartholomew: Tynkellhad been wholly unprepared for the extent of Michael’s wrath when the monk had learned that the Chancellor had been negotiating with wealthy benefactors behind his back. Some very harsh words had been aimed in his direction, and Tynkell had been desperate to make amends ever since.
    ‘You do not need more land,’ snarled Coslaye, ignoring him and addressing the Carmelites. ‘You have lots already. But we do not, and if you were good Christians, you would let us have it.’
    ‘Please, gentlemen,’ began Michael. ‘This is hardly the—’
    ‘How will you pay for it?’ sneered Jorz. ‘You are paupers. However, we White Friars have the money to buy any land we choose.’
    ‘We can find funds,’ shouted Coslaye, incensed. ‘We have generous friends who will—’
    ‘Enough!’ roared Michael. He lowered his voice when both the Carmelites and the Batayl men regarded him in astonishment. ‘People are staring at you, laughing at your unedifying behaviour.’
    ‘I do not care.’ Coslaye’s face was mottled, and Bartholomew hoped rage would not induce a seizure. ‘Besides, the White Friars started it.’
    Michael scowled at each of the