Falconer and the Death of Kings Read Online Free Page A

not to be the errand that de Bosco was sending him on. The chancellor seemed reassured, however, and not a little relieved that he did not have to enter into a taxing discussion of heretical teachings.
    ‘Good, good. And you are not to worry about your teaching duties, nor the good running of Aristotle’s Hall. That can all be managed in your absence.’
    ‘But that is my only source of income. If I am not earning it, how am I to fund my journey and sojourn at the university, sir?’
    De Bosco waved a dismissive hand and leaned forward with the air of a conspirator. He gleefully whispered in Falconer’s ear, obviously loving his new-found powers.
    ‘I have plundered the university chest to pay for you and another master to carry out your task.’
    Falconer frowned. Another master? Pecham had not told him that he was to have a companion. Was he then to be spied on?
    ‘Why do I have to have someone travelling with me?’
    De Bosco waved his hand again in a gesture that he obviously found quite satisfying.
    ‘It’s nothing. I just need someone to… erm… ensure that no errors are made in the collection of facts concerning the Condemnations. Someone who can act as your scribe.’
    And your spy, thought Falconer. Maybe de Bosco was not as dull as he appeared.
    ‘And who is this secretary to be?’
    De Bosco grinned broadly.
    ‘I have already spoken to a young man, newly qualified as master of the university, who would benefit from such a post. He has no living at the moment, so he is more than eager to assist you. He is fresh, and with a sound if rather conventional brain that will suit the purpose perfectly.’
    Falconer was beginning to get worried about who this companion might be. It sounded as though he would be saddled with a conservative drudge who would dog his every step and prevent him seeking out Roger Bacon.
    ‘Who is this paragon of virtue, may I ask?’
    ‘Pecham recommended him. He is one of your former students, Master Thomas Symon.’

THREE
    F alconer had a spring in his step despite the icy conditions as he returned to Aristotle’s Hall after his interview with the chancellor. Pecham had manipulated the entire project. He had ensured that Falconer would have no impediment to his meeting with Roger Bacon by suggesting Thomas Symon to de Bosco. The chancellor, new to Oxford, was completely unaware that the young man was more than a student of Falconer’s. He was learning to assist Falconer with the more medical aspects of the murder cases that came the regent master’s way. His cool brain could handle the dissection of bodies to try to understand what caused the person’s death, where Falconer shied away from this gruesome task of cutting up flesh.
    ‘Let’s hope that your skills will not be needed in Paris, though, Thomas,’ muttered Falconer to himself as he skipped over the steaming open channel in the middle of the High Street that was the sewer for the town. A mangy cur foraged at the debris that ran down the channel, and even Falconer’s passing by did not deter it from its task. ‘On the other hand, you had better hone your writing skills, if you are to record what Roger tells me.’
    Having hurried down Grope Lane, and past the brothels that lined the narrow passage, he turned left into St John Street and was soon outside the narrow frontage of Aristotle’s Hall. Next to it stood the dingier and more ramshackle Colcill Hall. Here, Thomas Symon lodged with a handful of other impecunious masters still seeking a place in the university and a living of their own. Before returning home, Falconer decided to call in at Thomas’s abode and speak to his newly appointed travelling companion. He found him seated at a table in the shabby hall, soaking stale bread in ale to make it more toothsome.
    ‘You will have no more need of such plain fare, Master Symon. We shall soon be living off the fat of the land. French land.’
    The young man beamed happily at Falconer, already knowing of his