Cautiously, alert to every movement his sister made, Abigny perched on the edge of the table. Philippa stayed where she was, at a distance from either of them. Abigny took a deep breath, and began to speak.
'In order that you understand what I did, and why, I must start at the beginning. When Philippa was still a baby, she was married. The marriage was legal, although it was of course never consummated. Her husband died shortly after, and Philippa inherited a considerable amount of property in Lincoln. Before our father died, he arranged for Philippa to stay at St Radegund's until she chose either to marry, or to take the veil. The Abbess, of course, was keen that Philippa should take the veil, because then all her property would go to the convent.'
He shuffled on the table, while Philippa watched him, her face pale.
'The fact that you were paying her obvious attention was not likely to encourage her to a life of chastity, so the Abbess, God rot her soul, decided she would remove you: if you could be persuaded to give up your courting, she imagined that Philippa, in paroxysms of grief, would become a nun, and all her worldly wealth would go to the convent. Her plan was that her dreadful nephews, the Olivers, were to start a riot and the blacksmith was paid to deliver a warning — "stay away". It seems the warning was too obtuse for you, because you continued to visit Philippa. The blacksmith swore he had given you the message when pressed by the Olivers. Then the plague came, and the Abbess was able to imprison Philippa in the convent under her policy of isolation.
'Anyway, to take things in order, I managed to work out what the Abbess had done by listening at doors and chatting to the nuns, who told me that the Abbess was bringing great pressure on Philippa to take her vows.'
Philippa nodded her agreement. 'She told me it was my duty to take the veil because so many clerics were dying of the plague. She said there were not enough left to say masses for the dead, and that I could not, in all conscience, refuse to commit myself to a monastic life when there were the souls of so many at stake.'
Abigny watched her for a moment before continuing.
"I became afraid that the Abbess might use the Death to her own advantage, and that she might kill Philippa for the property and blame it on the plague.
I decided I had to take Philippa away from her. So I sent you a message with that cocky medical student, and his cousin, Sister Emelda, agreed to pass a note to Philippa. You were supposed to meet each other in the shed, fall into each other's arms, marry, and live happily ever after. But poor Sister Clement chose that shed in which to die, and you, of course,' he said, bowing to Bartholomew, 'began to suspect all sorts of foul play, and took Philippa to your sister's home.'
He stopped for a minute, and chewed on one of his nails. 'Philippa could not be safe there. The Abbess would work out where she was and take her back. And this time, I was certain she would kill Philippa. You had upset my plans horribly. Instead of taking her to the safety of matrimony, you took her to the very unsafety of Trumpington — and on top of that, she got the plague.
I was furious with you,' he said to Bartholomew with a flash of defiance.
Bartholomew interrupted him, piecing together Abigny's story with what he had learned himself. 'So you hung around Trumpington until she began to recover, seen by the Gilbertine friar and the barmaid from the Laughing Pig,' he said, his voice hard. 'Then you stayed with Philippa for a few days, pretending Philippa was distressed because of her scars, so that poor Edith would not know there were two of you.'
The barmaid had told him Abigny seemed terrified of something. Could it have been the Abbess? Or was Abigny afraid of a more sinister foe — the Oxford scholars, or even the Cambridge men? 'More or less,' said Abigny, unperturbed by Bartholomew's hostility. He glanced at Philippa who stood motionless near the door. He continued. "I took her to Hugh Stapleton's house in Fen Ditton, where she would be safe, and I took Philippa's place in Edith's house, waiting with my crossbow to see whether the Oliver brothers would come. It was a tense wait, I can tell you.
I was almost relieved when you came and uncovered my disguise in that dramatic way, and I could get away from such a nerve-racking situation. We have both been at Fen Ditton ever since.'
'You used my sister!' said Bartholomew, his voice dangerously quiet. He stood abruptly and swung round to face Abigny, who blanched, but did not flinch. 'How did you know the Abbess or the Olivers would not harm her while you skulked in her house?' "I reasoned it out. I made sure that news of my escape was common gossip. The Abbess would hardly go there if she knew Philippa was gone.'
'But you were there for almost a week!' exploded Bartholomew. 'They might have come then.'
'And who took Philippa there in the first place?' yelled Abigny, his temper snapping. 'If anything, this was all your fault!'
Cynric, anticipating violence, uncoiled himself from the fire and moved between them, but Philippa was there before him.
'Please,' she said. 'Hear Giles out'
Abigny mastered his temper with an effort, and resumed his explanation. Bartholomew listened, his face white with fury. "I assumed that the Abbess would not harm you. With Philippa gone, what possible importance could you be to her? Well, I misread her. She held you responsible for Philippa's flight, while Wilson, her lover, claimed that you meant him harm. Within days, Wilson lay dead, burned to death in his own room with you conveniently first at the scene. Sister Emelda told me that she had overheard the Abbess and Henry Oliver discussing how they sent hired thugs to kill you. The Abbess was furious that your brother-in-law made a timely intervention. Not only that, but the money she paid to the thug that was killed was stolen! She sent Elias Oliver to retrieve it from the body: he found the body but the purse had gone.'
Bartholomew gritted his teeth, trying to master the fury, mingled with relief, that welled up inside him. If the blacksmith had been given a clearer message to deliver, perhaps some of this might not have happened. Philippa came to stand next to him. 'Hugh Stapleton's son came a few hours ago to tell us that the Abbess was dead,' she said.
'Apparently Henry Oliver became ill in the convent, and passed the sickness to her. We went immediately to hear the truth from Sister Emelda. And the next thing we did was to come see you.'
Bartholomew let out a huge sigh and stared up at the ceiling, feeling the energy drain out of him. He flopped back into the chair, trying to make sense of what he had heard. He looked at Philippa, her face ashen, and at Abigny, eyeing him expectantly. Could he believe their story? It was certainly true that Henry Oliver had the plague, and may well have passed it to his beloved aunt. Henry had said that Wilson believed Bartholomew meant to kill him. And the essence of the story fitted in with the facts as he knew them. But was there something more? Could he trust Abigny's explanation? How could he be certain that they were not somehow tied up with the University business and the murder of his friends?
It seemed pertinent to Bartholomew that Abigny fled to the house owned by Hugh Stapleton — the dead Principal of Bene't's Hostel — where he had so recently heard his death discussed by his own family.
Outside, the first streaks of dawn were lightening the sky. Philippa rose to leave.
'It seems there have been misunderstandings,' she said coolly, her gaze moving from Bartholomew to Abigny, 'and I am sorry that people have been hurt.
But I am not sorry to be alive, and I doubt that I would be had not Giles acted as he did.' She turned to Abigny. "I will never forgive you for lying to me, although I appreciate you felt it was in my best interests.'