The Devil's Disciples Read Online Free PDF Page A

precipitated this outbreak of the flux.
     I spend most nights with patients, so dreaming – about Thomas or anything else – has not really been possible.’
    ‘And napping during the day is out, because of teaching. Langelee was wrong to have enrolled so many new students last Easter,
     because none of us can really manage, what with Clippesby still on leave. I never thought I would miss Clippesby – he is insane,
     after all – but I wish he was home.’
    ‘I do not – not as long as Mildenale and William persist in their claims that all Dominicans are Satan-worshipping heretics.
     Clippesby is a Black Friar, and even his gentle temper would baulk at putting up with that kind of nonsense day after day.’
    ‘William has always hated Dominicans,’ said Michael.‘And having someone else who thinks the same way must be enormously satisfying for him. He is alone in his bigotry no longer.’
    ‘But he has not always hated me, and I am not a Dominican, anyway. Yet these days, he attacks me at every opportunity. Is
     it just because of Thomas, or have I done something else to annoy him?’
    ‘It is just because of Thomas. They quarrelled bitterly the night before he died, and William said things of which he is now
     ashamed; it is easier to be angry with you than to admit he behaved badly. Of course, you are not his only target at the moment.
     He seems ready to condemn the religious beliefs of virtually everyone in Cambridge these days.’
    ‘He may have a point this time. Superstition is more rife than I have ever known it, and several of my patients say they regularly
     consult witches for charms and spells.’
    ‘It is a pity the Church’s most vocal supporter is
Mildenalus Sanctus
,’ said Michael unhappily. ‘He does more harm than good with his diatribes. Indeed,
I
feel like applying for membership of a cadre when I hear what he thinks the Church represents.’
    Both scholars glanced behind them, to where the man in question was walking with Carton and William. Mildenale, a commoner,
     was in his late fifties, but still sported a head of lank black hair. He was in the habit of looking skywards when he spoke,
     as though addressing Heaven, although Bartholomew was sure the angelic hosts would not be impressed with some of the vitriol
     that spouted from his mouth. Like most people, the physician was uncomfortable with Mildenale’s unbending piety, and he was
     certainly disturbed by the man’s uncompromising views on ‘heretics’.
    Carton, on the other hand, was a Fellow, and he taught law. He was short, serious and something of an enigma. Although Bartholomew
     liked him well enough, he found he never knew what the friar was really thinking, and there was something reserved and distant
     about him that would prevent them from ever becoming real friends.
    ‘I was just telling Langelee that I think the Sorcerer is to blame for our Franciscans joining forces,’ Michael went on. ‘He
     is becoming increasingly popular in the town, seducing people away from the Church. It was only when Mildenale realised how
     serious a threat the Sorcerer posed that he started recruiting the likes of William, Carton and Thomas.’
    ‘And now Thomas is dead,’ said Bartholomew, forcing himself to discuss a topic that was still painful for him. ‘When I tended
     his wound, he told me the Sorcerer is a Dominican.’
    ‘William and Mildenale agree. Of course, I have no idea what Carton thinks, given that I have never met a man more difficult
     to read. But the preaching of all three is a distraction I could do without. Monitoring them will impede my two investigations.’
    ‘What two investigations?’
    Michael’s grin was rather crafty. ‘I am glad you asked, because I need your help. The first is the blood that was left in
     our font; we must find out who put it there, because we cannot have it happening again. The second is learning who desecrated
     Margery Sewale’s grave.’
    Bartholomew held up his hands and