The Devil's Disciples Read Online Free PDF Page B

was a
medicus
who took Margery from her grave – for anatomy. And since Paxtone refuses to touch corpses, and Rougham condemns anatomy as
     a pagan rite, you are the only one left.’
    ‘I did not exhume Margery,’ cried Bartholomew, appalled that anyone should think he had.
    Isnard looked sheepish. ‘I see. Well, perhaps you will accept something else as a bribe then. A jar for storing urine, perhaps.
     I could get you a nice one. Will you talk to Brother Michael for me?’
    Bartholomew mumbled something noncommittal, still shaken to learn he was seen as the kind of man who went around digging up
     the graves of his patients, and headed for the door. Michael was waiting outside, and shot him a sidelong glance as they began
     to walk along the towpath together.
    ‘I suppose he asked you to put in a good word for him,’ he said coolly. ‘Well, you can save your breath. He harmed you with
     his accusations about your medical skills earlier this year, and it will be a long time – if ever – before people forget the
     lies he told. You may not bear him a grudge, but I do. I do not want him in Michaelhouse.’
    ‘None of your other choristers are angels,’ Bartholomew pointed out, thinking of the disreputable crowd that was attracted
     by the prospect of free victuals and enjoyable evenings spent bawling at the tops of their voices. ‘It is no coincidence that
     the Sheriff knows most of them by name.’
    Michael’s expression was haughty. ‘That may well be true, but I prefer thieves and vagrants to villains who attack my Corpse
     Examiner with unfounded, vicious allegations.’
    ‘Isnard promised me a spade if I convinced you to let him back in.’ Bartholomew did not tell the monk what Isnard thought
     he might do with it. ‘Michaelhouse could do with some new tools.’
    Michael began to laugh. ‘A spade? Is that all he could think of to offer? You should hold out for a hoe, at the very least.’
     They walked in silence for a while. ‘What do you make of Carton?’
    Bartholomew was taken aback by the question. ‘He is a good teacher. Why?’
    ‘His students would disagree. He was a better educator when he was a commoner – before we elected him a Fellow. Since then,
     he has grown aloof and preoccupied, and seldom gives lectures his full attention. He is a fine example of someone who has
     been promoted above his abilities.’
    Bartholomew’s first instinct was to defend Carton, who was a colleague when all was said and done, but then it occurred to
     him that Michael was right. He recalled how the Franciscan had come to Michaelhouse in the first place. ‘Clippesby recommended
     him to us.’
    ‘And Clippesby is insane, so we were stupid to have accepted Carton on his word. You were the one whoadvocated Carton’s promotion to Fellow, though, and it is not the wisest suggestion you have ever made. I thought he was just
     shy at first, but now I know him better, I realise timidity has nothing to do with it. He is actually rather sinister.’
    Bartholomew was uncomfortable with the conversation. ‘I would not go that far …’
    Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘All the Fellows – except William – are wary of him. None of us like the fact that he went so
     suddenly from quiet nonentity to a man with strongly controversial opinions.’
    ‘I suppose it
is
odd,’ conceded Bartholomew reluctantly. ‘Perhaps he will be better when Mildenale leaves to found his hostel. That will not
     be long now, a few weeks at the most.’
    ‘I doubt that will help – they will still see enough of each other to be dangerous. I thought Thomas’s sermons were bad enough
     – driving listeners into the Sorcerer’s eager arms – but Carton, Mildenale and William are much worse.’ Michael grimaced when
     he saw the physician’s stricken expression. ‘Thomas’s death was
not
your fault, Matt. How many more times must I say it?’
    ‘Actually, it was. Thomas was fretful, so I gave him a sedative, hoping rest would