A Masterly Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

food is getting cold,’ he stated baldly.
    Startled, Kenyngham glanced up from his psalter and regarded Michael in surprise, clearly having forgotten entirely where
     he was. He gazed around the hall at the watching scholars.
    ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, recollecting himself. ‘I have an announcement to make.’
    Another long pause ensued as his eyes slid downward to the hallowed words of the psalter, which were apparently more demanding
     of his immediate attention than his six Fellows, eight commoners and forty or so students.
    Blind Father Paul smiled indulgently. ‘That man is a saint,’ he whispered in admiration. ‘His whole existence is taken up
     with spiritual matters.’
    ‘He is short of a few wits,’ murmured Runham unpleasantly. ‘I swear he barely knows where he is most of the time – unless
     it is in a church. It is not good for the Masterof a College to be so …’ He hesitated, deliberating what word would best describe the eccentric Master of Michaelhouse.
    ‘Unworldly,’ suggested Bartholomew.
    ‘Holy,’ countered Paul.
    ‘Odd,’ stated the loutish Ralph de Langelee flatly, a man who
     had decided to become a scholar because his duties as spymaster for the Archbishop of York were not sufficiently exciting.
     He entertained high hopes that the scheming and intrigues in the University might furnish him with the adventure and exhilaration
     he craved. For the most part, he had not been disappointed.
    ‘Unsuitable,’ finished Runham firmly.
    ‘What did you want to tell us, Master Kenyngham?’ prompted Michael, eyeing the food
     on the platters near the screen at the far end of the hall.
    Kenyngham cleared his throat, then beamed paternally at the assembled scholars. Before his mind could wander again, William
     almost snatched the psalter from him. Closing it, he laid it on the table. Kenyngham patted him on the head, as an adult might
     do to a child, much to the friar’s consternation and the students’ amusement.
    ‘You may have noticed that we have two new faces at the high table,’ said Kenyngham, gesturing to the Dominican and the Carmelite
     who sat on his left.
    ‘Welcome, welcome,’ said Michael, waving a hand that was more dismissive than friendly. When Cynric placed a basket of bread
     in front of him, he immediately selected the piece that was significantly larger than the rest. His colleagues, however, were
     more interested in the newcomers than in the rough bread baked from the cheapest flour the College could buy, or the thin
     bean stew that was now being distributed in greasy pewter bowls by the servants.
    ‘Master Thomas Suttone,’ Kenyngham continued, indicating the Carmelite, ‘comes to us from Lincoln, where he has been vicar
     of one of the parish churches. He will teach the trivium – grammar, rhetoric and logic.’
    ‘Good,’ said William with feeling. ‘I have been forced to teach the trivium since Alcote met his untimely demise in the summer,
     and I am heartily sick of it. Now Suttone can take over, and I can concentrate on what I am best at.’
    ‘And what, pray, is that?’ asked Langelee archly. ‘Unmasking warlocks among the Dominicans?’
    ‘When I was with the Inquisition …’ began William hotly.
    ‘We are pleased to have you at Michaelhouse, Master Suttone,’ said Bartholomew quickly, before William could start down that
     track. The friar’s tales of his ruthless persecution of ‘heretics’ in France were enough to put even Michael off his food,
     and Bartholomew did not want the new Fellows to wonder what they had let themselves in for on their first day.
    ‘I am delighted to be here,’ said Suttone, his red face breaking into a happy smile. ‘As parish priest in Lincoln, my duties
     included teaching the city’s children, who were lively and curious, but I missed the maturity and depth of adult minds, and
     I am looking forward to many hours of academic debate and disputation at Michaelhouse.’
    ‘Lord help us!’ whispered