The Mark of a Murderer Read Online Free PDF Page A

sun to touch as they enjoyed their day of rest.
    As they passed the Jewry, Bartholomew stole a furtive glance along Matilde’s lane. Her door was closed, and he hoped she was
     managing to catch up on some of the sleep she had missed the previous night. He smothered a yawn, and wished he could do the
     same. Neither the glance nor the yawn escaped the attention of the observant Michael.
    ‘It will not be long before the whole town knows. I thought you liked life at Michaelhouse, but if you are caught defying
     the University’s prohibition against women you will lose your Fellowship
and
your students. You will be reduced to practising medicine in the town and nothing else.’
    ‘That would not be so bad,’ replied Bartholomew, thinking about the mountain of academic work that loomed ahead of him until
     term ended. His third-year students had not finished Galen’s
De criticis diebus
, while he was still dissatisfied with the lectures his postgraduates intended to deliver on Hippocrates’
Liber aphorismorum
for their inceptions. The Regent Master who would examine them was his arch-rival Doctor Rougham, who would notgrant them their degrees unless they were perfect.
    ‘You would starve,’ said Michael brutally. ‘Your Fellowship provides you with a roof over your head, regular meals and funds
     to squander at the apothecary’s shop. Most of your patients are too poor to pay for their own medicines, and without Michaelhouse
     you would not be able to help them. So, think of
them
as you brazenly stride away each night to frolic with Matilde.’
    Bartholomew thought of the care he had taken on his nocturnal forays. ‘I am not brazen . . .’
    Michael gave a snort of laughter. ‘Your students know what you do and they are beginning to follow your example. I caught
     Deynman and Falmeresham with a whore two nights ago. I have told you before: enjoy Matilde if you must, but do it with at
     least a modicum of discretion.’
    ‘I have never—’
    ‘Do not argue, Matt: you know I am right. And if you do not care about yourself or your patients, then think of me. I am the
     Senior Proctor. Imagine how it looks for me to have a Corpse Examiner who flouts the rules night after night, and I do nothing
     about it.’
    Bartholomew rubbed his forehead tiredly. ‘But what can I do? She needs me.’
    ‘I am sure she does,’ replied Michael primly. ‘But that is beside the point. I am giving you some friendly advice, and you
     would do well to listen. Practise discretion.’
    ‘I will bear it in mind,’ replied Bartholomew, thinking that if sneaking out quietly when no one was awake, always waiting
     for total darkness, and making sure no one watched when he entered the Jewry was not discreet, then he was defeated. He had
     been as careful as he could, and was horrified that so many people seemed to know what he had been about.
    ‘We are going to Merton Hall,’ said Michael, changing the subject. He saw Bartholomew’s blank expression, andadded in exasperation, ‘To see this corpse we have been asked to inspect, man!’
    ‘Oh,’ said Bartholomew without much interest. ‘That.’
    ‘My beadles say the victim is a visiting scholar from Oxford.’ Michael glanced at his friend when he received no response.
     ‘Matilde must be wearing you out, because you have not asked a single question about the body and the circumstances of the
     man’s death, and you are normally full of them.’
    ‘Merton Hall,’ mused Bartholomew, trying to make an effort. ‘That is the house over the river, which is owned by the College
     I once attended in Oxford.’
    ‘I forgot you have connections to the Other Place,’ said Michael, not entirely approvingly. England had two universities –
     in Cambridge and Oxford – which were rivals for students and benefactors. Cambridge was newer and smaller, and its scholars
     invariably regarded its larger, more influential sister with rank distrust. ‘Merton is one of its biggest and richest