The King's Evil by Andrew Taylor

Author:Andrew Taylor [Andrew Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2019-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I LEFT THE Rose soon afterwards. The tavern overlooked the bustle of Market Hill, which was packed with the stalls of traders. I had expected to find more students in Cambridge, but I learned from the landlord that the Michaelmas Term had not yet begun so the town was quieter than usual.

I made my way through the crowd with some difficulty and followed his directions into the streets on the far side. Jerusalem was on the edge of the town. I entered the college by way of an archway set in a line of railings, which led into an open court with a collection of buildings on three sides. They were largely of brick, old and soot-stained.

The porter at the gate asked my business, and I asked for Mr Warley.

He stared up at me. He was a small, squat fellow with long grey hair and beetling brows well-framed for frowning. ‘Not one of ours, are you, sir? I never forget the face of a gentleman who matriculated here, however many years pass.’

‘Indeed. Where can I find Mr Warley?’

He pointed to a doorway in the left-hand corner of the court. ‘Through there. Mr Warley’s chambers are in the court beyond, on the far side. Second door from the left.’

The porter’s directions took me through a passage that smelled of cooking into another court, larger than the first, where somebody was talking in a loud, angry voice. I lingered in the passage, keeping to a patch of shadow. Two men were standing not far away, their backs to me. They were looking up at a low and dilapidated building to the left.

‘… it’s all very well but we can’t take your word for it.’ The speaker was a heavy, stooping man; he had sloping shoulders like a bull’s; he wore a gown that had once been black and was now a dark and grubby shade of green. ‘Besides, until the money’s here, we can’t tear the whole place down, just on your whim. We have chambers for undergraduates in there and—’

The other man, who was small and slight, said something in a softer voice.

This led to another explosion. ‘I know they’ve been empty for a few years. Our admissions aren’t what they were before the war. But numbers will improve one day, God willing.’

The smaller man shook his head and made another inaudible remark.

‘Of course repairs will cost money,’ roared the first man. ‘But it would be folly to let the place fall down for want of a few pence. East Building has sheltered scholars for nigh on three hundred years. Your chapel will cost a hundred times as much, a thousand times, and it will give shelter to no one. If you ever see it built, it will do nothing but encourage ungodly rituals and Papist practices. Our founder must be turning in his grave.’

The other raised his voice at last. ‘We shall have the money to build it. I have a promise of it.’

‘From whom?’

‘I can’t say at present.’

‘Then it’s no more than fairy gold.

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