'The Chancellor was none too pleased at being interrupted mid-argument by my yelling, but your Gray got the students mustered. When we came near the College, I saw smoke coming from one of the windows.
I thought perhaps we were too late, and rushed up the stairs. I saw Colet kill Swynford by mistake, and then try to shoot me.'
He poked Bartholomew with his elbow. "I saw what you did,' he said.
'What do you mean?' asked Bartholomew wearily.
'You saved me from Colet's crossbow. He could not have missed me from that range. I saw you knock him over.'
Bartholomew gave a soft laugh. 'Alcote did the same for me. The bolt that killed Swynford was meant for me, and he pushed me out of the way.'
The Bishop spread his hands. 'So, Michaelhouse Fellows risk their lives to save each other,' he said. 'Not all that has come of this is bad, and now you know whom you can trust.'
At last, thought Bartholomew, looking out of the window at the bright blue sky.
The Bishop stood to leave. 'These men have committed treason, and they will be taken to the Tower to stand trial. Stephen's willingness to confess in a vain attempt to save himself will ensure that they are all caught, and then the University — both hostels and Colleges — can begin again. I believe the Chancellor will need to make a visit to Oxford to explain what has happened, and to offer his abject apologies for blaming her for crimes of which she was wholly innocent.' He put his hand on Bartholomew's head. 'No secrets this time,' he said softly. 'Everything will be made known, from the murder of the Master of King's Hall fifteen months ago right up until the evil-doings of today.'
He went to the door, and then turned. 'Sir John Babington,' he said. 'He was no suicide, and can rightly be buried in the church. Shall I arrange that?'
Bartholomew thought about the revolting black effigy he had promised to have made for Wilson and shook his head. 'Sir John would prefer to be where he is, among the oak trees, and as far away from Wilson's glorious tomb as possible.'
The Bishop smiled. "I believe you are right,' he said, and left.
Bartholomew and Michael sat in companionable silence for a while, each rethinking the events of the past few days.
Michael went to look out of the window. 'The Death is still out there,' he said softly. 'Despite all that has happened, it is still there.'
Bartholomew stood next to him. 'And I still do not understand it,' he said. "I still do not know why some live while others die, and I have no more idea how it spreads now than I did when it first came.'
'Perhaps there is nothing to understand,' said Michael, watching the Proctor organising his beadles in the yard for the arrest of the hostel men. 'Perhaps we are all doomed.'
'No, Brother. There are those that have remained healthy, like you and Agatha, and there are those who have recovered. We will survive it.' He shivered, and wondered whether he should ask Cynric to build a fire.
He glanced through the open door where Gray and a few other industrious students were clearing the floor of debris, and decided that he had had enough of fires for one day.
'Matt!' Philippa exploded into the solar, followed more sedately by Abigny. 'Thank God you are safe!
We saw the smoke coming from Michaelhouse, and I thought Bartholomew rubbed his hands over his face, leaving smears of black. "I owe you and Giles an apology,' he said.
"I misjudged you both, and Giles has saved my life.'
'Yes. I was there when Cynric came to him with his dilemma, and I told them the answer was quite simple,' said Philippa. "I told them to enlist the help of Rachel Atkin and to go to see whether you and Michael were being held prisoner under Stephen's stables as she surmised. They were considering leaving it until tonight, but I said to go there and then. I would have gone myself, but I am not so foolish as to risk the success of such a mission merely to satisfy my own curiosity.'
Bartholomew stared at her wonderingly, and then hugged her, first gently, then harder. He could feel her laughing as she tried to catch her breath, and was reminded of how carefree they had been in the summer.
Abigny and Michael watched with obvious delight, and Bartholomew became embarrassed. Still with an arm across her shoulders, he spoke to Abigny.
'Thank you again for last night,' he said.
'Think nothing of it,' said Abigny cheerfully. 'All in a day's work for a philosopher.' He became serious again. "I spoke to Elias Oliver on our way here. He is grief-stricken at the loss of his brother and aunt, and more than prepared to spill his heart. He says it was Henry who organised the riot, and Henry who tried to kill you in the lane. He also told me that both Wilson and Master Yaxley of Bene't Hostel were seeing the Abbess, although neither knew of the other.'
'Really?' said Brother Michael with gleeful fascination.
'Whatever next!'
So that explains how the blacksmith came to be paid with money in a Bene't Hostel purse, thought Bartholomew. It must have been Yaxley's, although it had been rash of Henry to pay the blacksmith with a marked purse. Perhaps he disapproved of his aunt's illicit relationships, and was hoping that Bartholomew would begin to suspect Yaxley. He remembered the blacksmith bearing down on Elias Oliver during the riot, and almost stabbing him in the process. No wonder the Olivers had glowered so, when they were almost victims of their own plotting.
'Elias also said that Wilson had been in quite a panic one night, saying that he feared the physician,' said Abigny. 'The Abbess and her two dear nephews thought he meant you, and that you were going to kill him. But by "the physician" Wilson must have meant Colet, not you at all.'
'And you had nothing to do with this University business?' asked Bartholomew.
Abigny looked at him as though he were mad. "Me? Get mixed up with that crowd of calculating, power-hungry maniacs?' he said in disbelief. 'No fear!
I have more sense, and frankly, Matt, I would have thought you had, too. I am appalled that you allowed yourself to become embroiled in such filthy matters.'
'One of the keys to the whole affair was the presence of the trap-door. If you think back to when we found Paul's body, it was you who suggested that there might be a secret door…'
Abigny laughed. 'That just goes to show, Physician, that you need a philosopher to sort out all your mysteries!
So, I immediately lit upon the essence of the problem, did I? What an amazing mind I have.' He preened for a while.
"I do not even remember saying it,' he admitted. "I was just throwing out ideas and trying to think through the thing logically. I had no idea the College was furnished with such devices, and if I did mention it, it was purely owing to my sense of logic'
Bartholomew sighed. At last. All the loose ends had come together. One stupid error in all this was his assumption that Philippa's disappearance was connected to the University business, whereas the reality was that they were totally unrelated. There were tenuous links Wilson and Yaxley sharing the Abbess's favours, Abigny's frequenting of Bene't Hostel — but that was all.
He held out his hand to Philippa, who took it and pressed it to her lips. He smiled at the black smudges that his hand left on her white skin, and tried to wipe them off. He only made them worse. Philippa began to giggle, and out of the corner of his eye, Bartholomew saw Abigny bundle a goggle-eyed Michael out of the room and close the door, leaving him alone with Philippa.
'Why did you not tell me you had been married as a child?' he said, recalling what Abigny had told him some days ago, now.
"I thought you might not marry me if you thought I were a rich widow,' she said.
Bartholomew stared at her. 'Are you serious?'