‘Now you are going too far. Next, you will be telling me you are a nominalist.’
‘There is a great deal to recommend nominalism,’ said Bartholomew defensively. ‘Especially when you apply it to natural philosophy. For example, Heytesbury’s
‘I see,’ said Michael, nodding. ‘Velocity, like redness, is a universal and not a particular.’
‘Exactly,’ said Bartholomew, warming to his theme. ‘So, a body, starting from rest or a particular speed, would travel a certain distance in a specific unit of time. Thus, if the same body were to move in the same interval of time with a uniform velocity equal to the speed acquired in the middle of its uniform acceleration, it would travel an equal distance.’
‘If you say so,’ said Michael, bored by the sudden delve into natural philosophy, and not making the slightest effort to follow Bartholomew’s reasoning. ‘Heytesbury worked all this out, did he?’
‘It is a very clever piece of logic. I am surprised you have never discussed it with him. There are many scholars who would love such an opportunity.’
‘I met Heytesbury only once before our encounter in Trumpington, and then we were more concerned with sizing each other up than with arguing about uniform acceleration. And I am not interested in his ideas about movement and motion anyway, only in what information I can persuade him to part with that will be to Cambridge’s advantage and the detriment of Oxford.’
‘And you accuse Janius of being single-minded,’ said Bartholomew, smiling. They reached the Barnwell Gate, and nodded to Sergeant Orwelle as they passed through. Seeing a familiar figure nearby, Bartholomew grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him into the shadows of the guardhouse. ‘Speaking of Heytesbury, there he is. What is he doing?’
‘He is with Prior Morden of the Dominicans,’ said Michael, watching the two men, who were talking earnestly under the shelter of the west door of Holy Trinity Church. ‘I wonder what could draw those two together.’
‘Nominalism, probably,’ said Bartholomew. ‘As I have just told you, there are many scholars who would love an opportunity to cross intellectual swords with Heytesbury. Morden is doubtless one of them.’
‘Morden is a decent administrator, and rules the Dominicans well enough,’ said Michael. ‘But he is scarcely one of our most astute thinkers. Have you noticed that is often the case? You have only to look at Michaelhouse to see that we have fared better under someone who is good at organisation but weak on wits.’
‘You approve of what Langelee has done?’ asked Bartholomew, surprised. ‘I thought you were still angry with him for ruining your own chances of becoming Master.’
‘I am,’ said Michael stiffly. ‘And I, of course, would prove that it is possible to have a brilliant mind
‘Perhaps he did you a favour, then,’ said Bartholomew. ‘At the next election, you will inherit a College that is in much better condition than the one he took over.’
Michael smiled. ‘True. But we should not linger here reviewing my career. I wish I knew what Heytesbury and Morden are discussing.’
‘It is nothing of relevance to you, your negotiations with Oxford, or your investigation, Brother,’ came a rather sibilant voice from behind them. Bartholomew almost leapt out of his skin, unaware that anyone had been close enough to hear what they had been saying. Michael merely smiled as he recognised the smooth black hair and twinkling blue eyes of Brother Janius.
‘Have you been listening to Heytesbury and Morden?’ he asked.
Janius nodded. ‘Now that God has seen fit to appoint Brother Timothy as Junior Proctor, all us Benedictines feel obliged to be watchful, so that we can gather information that you may find helpful in your duties. That is why God appointed Timothy – because He knew he would make a good and honest servant for the University.’
‘But it was
‘How do you know?’ flashed Janius, anger flashing briefly in his blue eyes. ‘God is all powerful, and determines every aspect of our lives.’
‘Then tell me what He permitted you to overhear of the conversation between Morden and Heytesbury,’ said Michael, apparently deciding that argument was futile in the face of such rigid conviction.
Janius brought his ire under control, and the serene expression returned to his pale face. ‘I was praying in Holy Trinity Church – God drew me there, so that is how I know He wanted me to eavesdrop on the discussion – and I heard Morden inviting Heytesbury to the Dominican Friary next week for a private discussion about nominalism.’
‘Is that it?’ asked Michael disappointed. ‘That is rather mundane.’
‘Not for the Dominicans,’ replied Janius. ‘They consider it a great honour, and plan to have a feast to celebrate the occasion. I wonder whether Heytesbury might consider coming to visit the Benedictines of Ely Hall. We will not be able to fete him in the same lavish way as will the Dominicans, but we can offer stimulating conversation and keen minds.’
‘Then do not invite me, please,’ said Michael. ‘I cannot think of a more tedious way to spend an evening. Matt has just been telling me all about accelerating bodies and uniform velocity, and I have no desire to hear any more of it.’
Janius smiled at Bartholomew. ‘I have heard your lectures on the physical universe are complex and not for novices. Were you telling Michael about Heytesbury’s mean speed theorem?’
Bartholomew nodded enthusiastically. ‘And just four years ago, Nicole Oresme devised a geometrical proof for the intension and remission of qualities based on Heytesbury’s–’
‘You mentioned yesterday that you planned to attend Faricius’s requiem mass, Janius,’ interrupted Michael loudly, deciding he had heard enough of nominalism as applied to the laws of physics for one day. ‘Did you go? Can I assume that your presence here means that it is over?’
‘It was over at midday, and the afternoon has been spent in private prayer for his soul,’ Janius told him. ‘That was why I was in Holy Trinity Church. But he is due to be buried about now, and I was on my way back there when I met you.’
‘Good,’ said Michael. ‘I want to talk to the Carmelites, and if they are all gathered together at Faricius’s mass, I will not have to hunt them down individually.’
‘You would not have to do that anyway,’ said Janius. ‘Since Faricius’s murder, most of the Orders are keeping their students inside. No one wants a retaliatory killing.’
‘There are those that would disagree,’ said Michael. ‘But it is cold standing here. Let us be on our way to this burial. Such an occasion will suit my mood perfectly.’
Chapter 6
FARICIUS’S REQUIEM MASS HAD BEEN A GRAND AFFAIR. Prayers for him had been said in the church all afternoon, and the rough wooden coffin was being carried back to the friary, where there was a small graveyard in the grounds near the river. Bartholomew and Michael joined the end of the procession, which comprised mainly White Friars, but also a smattering of scholars from other hostels and colleges who had met Faricius and been impressed by his scholarship. Both Timothy and Janius were among the mourners, as was Heytesbury, although he at least had the good sense to keep his face hidden in a voluminous hood.
‘What are you doing here?’ Michael asked the Merton man in a soft whisper. ‘A procession of realism- obsessed Carmelites is no place for the country’s leading thinker on nominalism. Are you mad?’
‘No such restrictions apply in Oxford,’ replied Heytesbury testily. ‘And I met Faricius once. I had the greatest respect for him, and wanted to persuade him to study with me at Merton.’
‘I doubt he would have taken a nominalist master,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Have you not heard how the Orders have ranged themselves around this debate? The Carmelites have decided that realism is the ultimate truth.’
