An Order for Death (56 page)

Michael shook his head slowly. ‘The fire has already gone out of that particular issue. When Heytesbury left, only one Carmelite
turned up to hurl a clod of mud at his back, and a passing gaggle of Dominicans did no more than laugh at the mess it made.
I even saw Dominicans and Carmelites standing side by side to watch the mystery plays in the Market Square yesterday. They
are at peace again – for now.’

‘And what brought about this abrupt change?’ asked Matilde suspiciously. ‘Only a week ago, they were prepared to tear each
others’ heads off in St Mary’s Church.’

‘Lent is over,’ said Michael. ‘The sun is shining and the spring flowers are out. People are happier. And there are no more
of those silly meetings of Walcote’s; they hardly poured oil on troubled waters. Lincolne’s death has helped, too. The Dominicans
believe that one of Lincolne’s own
students made an end of him, and consider justice to have been done for both Kyrkeby and Faricius. I cannot imagine how they
arrived at such a conclusion, personally.’

Bartholomew said nothing.

‘And once I appoint William as my Junior Proctor, I shall be able to relax again,’ continued Michael, leaning back and holding
out his cup to Matilde to be refilled. ‘I am expecting a large consignment of cheese in a few days, and I want to be able
to appreciate it without rushing off to see to students with broken heads and bloody knuckles. William can do that.’

‘Cheese?’ asked Bartholomew cautiously. ‘This would have nothing to do with Heytesbury’s deed, would it? Richard claimed you
wanted it signed so that you could dine on fine cheese and butter. Do not tell me he was right!’

‘Of course that was not why I wanted it signed,’ said Michael. Then his large face broke into a grin of happy anticipation.
‘But it is certainly one of its advantages.’

T
HROUGHOUT MEDIEVAL TIMES
, C
AMBRIDGE WAS FRAUGHT
with disputes of one kind or another. Some occurred when the townsfolk took exception to the influence and sway held by the
University in a town that was really very small by modern standards; others happened when specific factions within the University
took against each other. A number of these are recorded in historical documents, including a very serious contention in 1374,
when the Dominicans and Carmelites were on opposite sides of a theological debate. One John Horneby was the spokesman for
the Carmelites. Riots and civil disorder followed, and even the Pope was drawn into the argument.

The religious Orders comprised a large percentage of the student body in the University, although it did not mean that their
students were saintly men dedicated to a life of learning or devoted to the service of others. Many were sent to Cambridge
to acquire a basic education before taking positions in the King’s courts or high-ranking posts in the Church – indeed, some
Orders were obliged to send a specific percentage of their friars to one or other of the universities. It is certain that
some of the alliances formed in the friaries formed the basis of an ‘old boys’ club’, where favours were given to former acquaintances.

The Franciscans, in particular, were often accused of preying on the younger students and encouraging them to join their Order.
Some of their converts were as young as fourteen, although most were in their late teens. It is not unreasonable to suppose
that controlling large bodies of active young men was extremely difficult, and that this alone
led to at least some of the trouble with the other Orders and the town’s apprentices.

Cambridge in the fourteenth century was a small but busy town, with relatively good road and water communications. By the
mid-1350s, it had eight Colleges – King’s Hall, Michaelhouse, Peterhouse, Gonville Hall, Trinity Hall, Bene’t College, the
Hall of Valence Marie and Clare – along with a number of hostels and several friaries. Entry to the town was controlled by
two gates (Barnwell and Trumpington) and two sets of bridges (Great Bridge and Small Bridges).

The Great Bridge had a turbulent history. There had been a crossing of the River Cam at this point since prehistoric times,
and a newer, stronger bridge had been erected after William the Conqueror had raised his motte and bailey castle in 1068.
By 1279 the bridge was in a poor state of repair, and a tax was levied on the townsfolk to pay for a new one. When the money
was raised, the Sheriff simply declined to build a new structure, and instead made superficial repairs to the old one. Evidence
indicates that any remaining funds found their way into his own pocket. Complaints about the state of the bridge continued
until well into the fifteenth century, and it was common practice for soldiers from the Castle to remove parts of it so that
would-be travellers were obliged to use the soldiers’ ferries.

The University, founded in the early years of the thirteenth century, grew in importance and influence throughout the Middle
Ages. Among its most notable public occasions were its debates, and many were held in St Mary’s Church, which was the only
building large enough to house everyone who wanted to attend. They occurred at regular intervals throughout the year, and
it was considered a great honour to be invited to speak at one.

Contemporary accounts indicate that some subjects were more popular for these occasions than others. The possibility of life
on other planets did not seem to interest
medieval scholars much, and little is recorded of their speculations on the matter. When life on other worlds was considered,
it was usually in the form of parallel universes – that is that there are universes identical to our own that exist simultaneously.
The possibility of encountering little green men was apparently not something that inspired much serious discussion.

It is not possible to say whether the debate that raged in the fourteenth century between the realists and the nominalists
ever led to violence. It was, however, a highly contentious issue, and dominated almost every aspect of teaching, from theology
and natural philosophy to rhetoric and grammar. It was an old argument, originating with Aristotle and Plato, but it was revived
in the 1300s by the Franciscan scholar, William of Occam. Occam was a student of the Oxford master Duns Scotus (the derogative
word ‘dunce’ is derived from his name), who was a leading proponent of realism. Occam disagreed with his teacher, and spent
a good part of his life in Europe being criticised by various popes. He died somewhere around 1349, possibly from the plague.

The debate did not die with Occam, and a group of like-minded scholars began to gather in the Oxford college of Merton. Men
like William Heytesbury, Richard Swineshead and John Dumbleton were leading thinkers of their day, although little of their
work has survived. Heytesbury’s
Regulae Solvendi Sophismata
, however, is a remarkable text, covering a wide range of philosophical issues as well as defining uniform speed and uniformly
accelerated motion. These definitions were used and accepted by Galileo. Heytesbury and his colleagues even developed the
mean speed theorem, which is perhaps the most outstanding medieval contribution to mathematical physics.

Not much is known about Heytesbury, other than that he was bursar of Merton in 1338, and that he was old when he became Chancellor
of Oxford University in 1371. These dates alone indicate that he lived a long and successful life.

John Clippesby and Thomas Suttone were members of Michaelhouse in the 1350s, and Ralph de Langelee was its Master. Thomas
Kenyngham, one of Michaelhouse’s founding members, had ceased to be Master by 1354, and had probably resigned. The University’s
Chancellor was a man named William Tynkell.

In 1354, records show that the Prior of the Dominicans was probably William de Morden, while other Dominicans at around that
time include Henry de Kyrkeby, Robert de Bulmer and Thomas Ringstead. Ringstead was a professor of theology in 1349, and was
Bishop of Bangor by 1357. He died in 1366, leaving his Cambridge convent £20 and a couple of religious books.

The Warden of the Franciscans in 1354 was probably William Pechem, while John de Daventre is mentioned in a document dated
to 1348.

The Prior of the Carmelites at the time was William de Lincolne. John Horneby became an important man in the Carmelite Order,
and was a Regius professor of theology. The Carmelite Order arrived in Cambridge in the 1290s, where they built a church on
Milne Street (probably near where King’s Chapel stands today). Humphrey de Lecton was the first Carmelite to earn a doctor’s
degree in Cambridge. If he were buried in the town, it is likely to have been in a graveyard in the conventual church, although
he was probably not honoured with as splendid a tomb as the one described here.

With the blessing of the King, Ralph de Norton was elected Prior of the Austin community at Barnwell in 1349, after his predecessor
died of the plague. His election was contested five months later by a man called Simon of Seez, who had been granted the position
by the Pope at Avignon. This led to some lively politicking on Ralph’s part, but that is another story. Ralph had two brother
monks called John and Simon Lynne, while a man named William Walcote was also a Cambridge Austin canon in the 1350s. The canons
ran a small hospital, the chapel of which was dedicated to
St Mary Magdalene. This still stands, and is the pretty Norman building on the Newmarket Road.

Throughout the fourteenth century, records indicate that the small Benedictine convent of St Radegund’s had something of a
reputation for licentious behaviour. One Mabel Martyn was Prioress in the 1320s and 1330s, while Eve Wasteneys is recorded
as Prioress in 1359. The nuns were poor, and had lost a great deal in a devastating fire in 1313, but this does not excuse
some of their behaviour. In 1373, 1389 and several times in the 1400s, the convent was visited by various officials, and the
nuns were warned about their ‘extravagant and dissolute lifestyles’. According to the officials’ reports, nuns were allowed
to leave the priory when they pleased, and men visited them at ‘inappropriate hours’. By 1496, only two nuns remained (one
of whom was said to have been of ‘ill fame’), and Bishop Alcock of Ely expelled them and used the estates and buildings to
found the College of St Mary the Virgin, St John the Evangelist and St Radegund the Virgin, which, almost since its inception,
was known as Jesus College. So, although the nuns in this tale might appear flagrant in their intentions, this part of the
story may not be as far-fetched as it may seem.