Mystery in the Minster Read Online Free PDF Page B

created world, and the rest is a debate between the harlot – who has since converted to Christianity – and her confessor. There is nothing remotely bawdy about it.’
    ‘That is even worse!’ groaned Multone. ‘There will be a riot, because the title suggests something rather more … entertaining. You must abandon it, and find another.’
    ‘But we cannot!’ cried Isabella, dismayed. It was unusual for a novice to defy an abbot, but she was the niece of an archbishop, which granted her a certain licence unavailable to others. ‘We have already hired players and started rehearsals. Or are you suggesting we cancel it altogether?’
    ‘No!’ gulped Multone. ‘The people of York are fond of their dramas, and depriving them of one is more than my life is worth. I suppose it will have to go ahead, although I think I shall change its title. How about
The Confessions of an ex-Whore
?’
    ‘I think you might find that has similar problems, Father,’ said Michael, maintaining a perfectly straight face, although Bartholomew, Radeford and Langelee were hard pressed not to laugh.
    ‘It is a fine play,’ said Isabella earnestly. ‘It is all about a greedy, debauched, sinful person, who repents her sins and is saved. And as so many people in York are greedy, debauched and sinful, it will touch their hearts and make them eager to atone for their vices.’
    ‘Do not hold your breath,’ muttered Multone. He turned to the scholars. ‘Forgive me. I did not intend our first conversation to comprise a discussion about lewd dramas. May I assume that you are here about Huntington? Sir William told me he had written to tell you what has happened.’
    Langelee nodded. ‘It was kind of him to warn us, because otherwise we might have been too late. The vicars-choral have no right to claim what Zouche intended for Michaelhouse.’
    Multone inclined his head, but was too politic to take sides, so confined himself to saying, ‘They are tenacious and determined, so you will have to produce plenty of documentation to defeat them.’
    ‘I can provide some,’ whispered Oustwyk in Bartholomew’s ear, tugging his sleeve to gain his attention. ‘I know some excellent forgers, who will do it cheap. Just let me know.’
    ‘I hope you win,’ said Isabella. ‘My uncle
did
intend Michaelhouse to have that church, because I heard him say so myself. And so did Cousin Helen. Besides, the vicars only want it so they can buy themselves more new shoes. Please tell me if I can do anything to help. I read well, and will help you trawl through as many muniments as you like.’
    ‘Yes, please,’ said Radeford eagerly, before anyone could refuse. ‘Thank you.’
    ‘And when you have finished pawing through dusty old deeds, you must come to my convent for a lute lesson,’ said Alice to Langelee. ‘It has been far too long since we made music together.’
    Not long after, there was another knock on the door. Oustwyk went to answer it, while Multone began to hold forth about a letter he had just received from the Archbishop of Canterbury, in which the sin of pride was blamed for the plague that had swept across the country some ten years earlier. Isabella listened attentively to the pious reflections, but the others were bored, and Bartholomew hated being dragged back to the hellish time when his medicines had been useless and much-loved patients had died in his arms. He was startled from his gloomy reverie when two more Benedictines were shown in. Multone grimaced his annoyance.
    ‘How many more times must I tell you that visitors are to be kept downstairs until I send for them?’ he hissed in his steward’s ear. ‘It is getting ridiculously crowded in here!’
    ‘Langelee!’ exclaimed one of the newcomers. He was a pleasant-faced man with short brown hair, who carried himself with the careless grace of the aristocrat. He spoke French so flawlessly that it could only be his mother tongue. ‘I heard you might come to challenge the vicars,