Falconer and the Death of Kings Read Online Free

hierarchy, and of the religious order of which they were both members. Bacon had once had the support of Pope Clement and had written copiously concerning knowledge and the world. But Clement had died some years ago, and Roger had disappeared into the depths of the Franciscan order somewhere in France. Pecham, however, must have made contact with him recently. Indeed, as the Franciscan had just returned from the University of Paris, Falconer wondered if that was where Roger was now. He grasped Pecham’s arm excitedly.
    ‘You have seen him? Is he well?’
    The Franciscan grimaced and extricated his arm from Falconer’s vice-like grasp.
    ‘I did not see him as such. He is… cloistered away in a cell. I had this message from one who had seen him, however. I am just the bearer of a second-hand missive.’
    ‘And what is this message that must be conveyed by word of mouth only?’
    Pecham formed the words in his brain carefully, reciting them just as he had been told them.
    ‘That he who designs submarine ships would speak with he who flies in the air with the purpose of perpetuating knowledge.’ He grimaced. ‘There. I promised I would pass on the message just as it was delivered to me. But I have to say, it only serves to confirm my fears that Friar Roger has gone mad. He is set on writing an encyclopedia of all knowledge but fears that anything he writes will be destroyed unless he also passes it on to others. It seems you are to be one of those selected to be his memory.’
    ‘But how am I to get to Paris in the first place? There are my teaching duties, my students and the cost to consider.’
    Pecham smiled conspiratorially.
    ‘The chancellor awaits your petition to be allowed to study the effect of Bishop Tempier’s Condemnations on the teaching of Aristotle at the University of Paris.’
    The Franciscan was referring to the results of a meeting of conservative clergy under the guidance of the Bishop of Paris in December of 1270. The tract that emanated from the good bishop’s office sought to ban certain Aristotelian teachings in Paris. Thirteen propositions had been listed as false and heretical, but that had had little influence on William Falconer in Oxford. Pecham patted him on the shoulder.
    ‘Who is more suitable to gauge the reaction now than Oxford’s most splendid proponent of Aristotle’s thought Regent Master William Falconer?’
    Falconer’s face creased into a wry smile.
    ‘It seems that my path has been laid out for me.’
    The truth was that he did not mind at all being manipulated in this way. Hadn’t he only just been thinking that his life of teaching had become routine and dull? Here was a chance to travel to Paris and to seek out a meeting with his old friend Roger Bacon. It was dawning on him how much he missed the incisive and argumentative mind of the man. He nodded his agreement.
    ‘In which case, I have no choice but to go.’
    His interview with the chancellor was as swift and painless as that with Pecham. William de Bosco was a new appointment to the post, which controlled the administration of the university. He was a safe and secure appointment, made to redress the balance of the previous incumbent, Thomas Bek, who had been deposed due to his overweening ambition. True to the meaning of his name, de Bosco was a short, stocky man who seemed to be firmly planted in the good earth. His demeanour was similarly stolid, indeed almost wooden. He ushered Falconer into his presence and bade him take a seat. In similar circumstances, Bek would have kept his visitor standing. Especially William Falconer, whom he had detested as a disruptive element in the good running of the university. De Bosco looked almost pleased to see the troublesome regent master, and he got straight to the point.
    ‘William, Brother Pecham has recommended you as our envoy to Paris. You understand what you are to do there?’
    Falconer smiled and nodded.
    ‘Yes, Chancellor.’
    Indeed he did know, but it was