‘If I do, Bartholomew will catch me,’ gulped Narboro. ‘Paddle it across to–’
‘It is too wide for the door.’ Lucy produced a small crossbow. ‘But the scholars will not stop you, I promise. Come, quickly now, before the water rises any higher.’
‘I do not understand,’ gasped Michael, finding his voice at last. ‘You helped us … you distracted Donwich, so he would not …’
‘Yes, I did,’ said Lucy shortly. ‘And now I am leaving.’
‘But why embark on a murder spree with Narboro?’ asked Bartholomew, acutely aware that he could not reach either culprit before he was shot or stabbed, so all he could do to delay their departure was talk. ‘The man who broke his promise to marry you.’
‘Neither of us had a choice, thanks to her damned brother,’ spat Narboro.
‘His lawsuit will ruin Narboro,’ explained Lucy, ‘and end my chance of winning another suitor. Rather than let him destroy both our lives, we agreed to work together. Narboro would not have been my first choice of collaborator, but needs must.’
‘But your brother has agreed to drop the case,’ said Bartholomew, coughing as water slapped into his mouth. ‘You did what he asked, so now he will–’
‘He will renege,’ interrupted Lucy shortly. ‘He thinks Narboro’s breach of promise reflects badly on him, and he wants to prove that he is strong and proud. He never had any intention of honouring the agreement he made with me, and I was a fool to think he might.’
‘So we devised a scheme to steal all his money and disappear to France,’ finished Narboro, ‘where we shall go our separate ways. I shall find work as a clerk, and she will settle in a town where no one will look at her with scorn and pity.’
‘Although I shall go alone if you do not come over here soon,’ warned Lucy, struggling to keep her boat at the door and maintain her hold on the weapon at the same time. The water had risen so fast that she had to stoop slightly to see under the lintel.
‘But Lyonnes overheard us planning,’ said Narboro, too frightened to swim, and so talking to delay it. ‘We were in Brampton’s house with the window open, and he was working on the bridge outside. He demanded a share of the money in return for his silence.’
‘Then he and Dickon quarrelled,’ said Lucy, indicating with an exasperated flick of the crossbow that Narboro was to jump at once. ‘We realised we could be rid of him, and no one would ever think to blame us.’
‘But it did not work,’ said Bartholomew noting with alarm that his lamp was beginning to run out of fuel. ‘Because Morys learned the truth.’
Lucy grimaced. ‘We lured Lyonnes to the Chesterton road, but Morys saw Narboro and me hurrying there together, and drew his own conclusions after the body was found. Then he demanded money for his silence.’
‘I paid some of it,’ put in Narboro. ‘You and William saw me in the guildhall with him, so I had to devise a quick lie. But when he was arrested, Lucy and I knew it was only a matter of time before he betrayed us in exchange for clemency.’
‘So you arranged for him to escape,’ surmised Bartholomew.
‘Dickon did,’ said Lucy. ‘We told him that John was going to hang, and as John is the only friend the boy has ever had …’ She struggled to keep her balance as yet another surge rocked the coracle. ‘Come on, Narboro, for God’s sake, or I really will leave you.’
Bartholomew swallowed hard when he recalled how much time Lucy had spent with Matilde. She seemed to read his thoughts, and her expression turned vengeful.
‘I told her some things about you. None are true, but she will never marry you now, even if you do survive the flood. It is my revenge for you arresting Morys and forcing me to cut off his head.’
‘I am coming!’ called Narboro, sheathing his knives and preparing to brave the water at last. He descended three steps and stopped. ‘Lord! It is like ice!’
‘Jump!’ Lucy snapped at him. ‘Or so help me, I am going.’
Narboro gave a mirthless bark of laughter. ‘And forfeit the money I stole from your brother? How will you get to France without it?’
Lucy did not reply, and Bartholomew saw she now had to crouch to look through the door. Soon, the whole room would be underwater and he and Michael would drown.
‘And Aynton and Elsham?’ he asked, desperately. ‘Why kill them?’
Lucy’s face was full of scorn. ‘Have you not worked out who did that yet? How much clearer does it need to be? The clue is in the letter I retrieved from Martyn’s body. It reveals that Aynton wrote to his friend Teofle about Baldok. Aynton’s letter to Narboro likely contained the same information.’
‘Which I never did receive,’ put in Narboro. ‘However, I do know he wrote to me because of my Court connections.’
‘But your tales of being the King’s favourite are vainglorious lies,’ rasped Michael. ‘I asked Teofle, and he said you were so lowly as to be all but invisible.’
‘Not so!’ cried Narboro. ‘The King loves me, and even remembered my name once.’
‘The point is not what you know about Narboro’s standing at Court,’ said Lucy, ‘but what Aynton believed – which was that Narboro has powerful royal connections. Aynton aimed to use him to get a message to the King, and to use Teofle to get a message to the Archbishop. A message about Baldok.’
‘Yes,’ croaked Michael. ‘But what about Baldok? That he was a thief?’
‘Work it out for yourselves,’ challenged Lucy. ‘Just like I did. Not that it matters, because you will die in here and so will never be in a position to–’
There was a great splash as Narboro jumped at last. Bartholomew shoved the lamp at Michael and paddled to intercept him, but he was too cold and his muscles were too tired. A crossbow bolt hissed into the water next to him, causing him to duck, and when he surfaced again, it was to see Narboro reach the coracle and haul himself in.
There was a moment when Bartholomew considered following Lucy and Narboro through the door, but he knew that would be suicide without a boat, so he resigned himself to taking refuge on Hoo Hall’s upper floor. He retrieved the lamp and towed Michael to safety, then scrambled up the steps, limbs numb with cold.
‘Find dry clothes,’ he gasped, as they stumbled into the dormitory. ‘I will call for help.’
‘No one will hear,’ predicted the monk. ‘Dick has evacuated all the nearby houses, and the water is making too much noise to attract attention from further away.’
‘I can see people working on the sluices – Zoone, William and others. I will wave the lamp. One of them will come to investigate.’
But the roaring water swallowed his cries, while no one took any notice of a winking light. It was not long before he conceded defeat. Shivering, he pulled off his wet shirt and tunic, and replaced them with some that Narboro had left behind. Michael had already donned a baggy robe, and held a blanket around his shoulders.
‘I have a bad feeling we will die here, Matt,’ the monk said softly. ‘Hoo Hall is a squat building on low-lying land. Unless the sluices are opened, the water in Coe Fen and the Mill Pond will continue to rise, and then even the roof will not be tall enough to save us.’
‘Zoone will find a way to do it,’ said Bartholomew, doggedly optimistic. He hoped it would be soon, or Michael was going to be right. He turned his thoughts to what Lucy and Narboro had admitted. ‘They beheaded Lyonnes and Morys, but deny responsibility for Aynton and Elsham.’
‘Do you believe them?’ Michael sounded as if he no longer cared, but was trying to make the effort for Bartholomew, who did.
The physician nodded. ‘They had nothing to gain from confessing to two murders, but disavowing all knowledge of two others.’