‘But why did Jodoca kill Carton?’ asked Podiolo. ‘Spynk and Fencotes, I understand, because they were competing for the house, driving up the cost between them. But Carton was not going to buy it.’
‘No, but he took messages back and forth,’ replied Fencotes. His voice was weaker now. ‘And he wanted it to go to a convent, not a layman. He was going to persuade Langelee to sell it to us.’
Norton looked at the old man. ‘Now there is only one question left. How did you know about Danyell’s treasure? Did he confide in you, too?’
Fencotes sighed, a whisper deep in his chest. He did not have many moments left, so Bartholomew answered for him. ‘Fencotes came late to the monastic life, and before taking his vows, he lived in Norfolk. Danyell came from Norfolk, too.’
‘He was kin,’ breathed Fencotes, barely audible. ‘He came to me when he thought the Bishop’s men might steal his treasure. I told him Margery Sewale’s house was empty.’
‘He hid it well,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Osbern and Brownsley have been hunting for days with no success, and he has even foiled Cynric.’
Fencotes gave the ghost of a smile. ‘That is why we must buy the house, because it may take weeks to find. Masons know how to build decent hiding places.’
‘You looked, though,’ said Bartholomew, thinking of another small fact that had not made sense at the time. ‘I treated you for injuries that were inconsistent with the fall you claimed to have had. You went to Sewale Cottage, to see if you could uncover it for yourself.’
‘You are a clever lad,’ breathed Fencotes, closing his eyes. ‘I felt the hoard was slipping away, and wanted to see if I could find what others could not. But Danyell was too good, even for his old uncle.’
Bartholomew left the canons to give Fencotes last rites, and went outside. There was a breeze for the first time in weeks, but it was hot and stale, like something blown in from a desert. It made everything feel old and dry, and in the distance he thought he heard thunder. Was a storm on the way? Would it break the heatwave and usher in cooler weather? It was not long before Norton and Podiolo came to join him. The Florentine had drawn his sword again, and did not seem inclined to give it up.
‘Will you tell Langelee our offer for Sewale Cottage is now twenty marks?’ asked Norton. ‘I know Arblaster offered twenty, too, but you will not want his money, not after what Jodoca did to Carton.’
‘He probably does not have it, anyway,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Not if he is ruined.’
‘He has it,’ said Podiolo. ‘I saw him counting it last night when I went for a walk. But that is the full extent of it. I heard him say so to Jodoca.’
Peering through other people’s windows in the dark was odd behaviour for a monastic, but Bartholomew was too tired to think about it. He collected his horse and started to ride home. He was vaguely aware of someone on the Causeway ahead of him, but the sun was in his eyes and he could not see clearly. By the time he realised it was Jodoca, it was too late to do anything about it. She was on a sturdy white pony, and there were saddlebags behind her.
‘There you are,’ she said, reining in. ‘I understand you had a talk with my husband.’
Bartholomew was not sure whether to ride away from her as fast as his horse would carry him, attempt to make her his prisoner, or simply talk. He decided he should arrest her, but was obliged to revise his plans when he realised he had lost his dagger – he supposed he had dropped it during the scuffle with Arblaster. Jodoca, however, did have a knife, and she looked as though she was ready to lob it. And at such short range, she could not miss. Even so, he started to rummage in his bag for one of the several surgical implements that could double as a weapon.
‘Raise your hands where I can see them,’ she ordered immediately, seeing what he was doing. Her pretty face was cool and determined, and he reminded himself that here was a woman who had already taken three lives. ‘Make no mistake, Doctor, I will kill you if you do not obey me.’
Reluctantly, he did as he was told. She edged her pony closer to him, cutting off his chances of escape with every step. The Causeway was too narrow for him to pass her, and the time it would take to turn his horse around would see a blade in his back for certain. He wished he had paid attention to the road, instead of reviewing the mysteries he had just solved.
‘I want the answer to one question,’ said Jodoca, when she was sure she had him in a position where he posed no danger. ‘Tell me the truth, and I will let you go.’
He did not believe her. ‘You want to know if you succeeded in killing Fencotes?’
She grimaced. ‘What I actually wanted to know was whether the canons had recognised me – whether it is really necessary to leave Cambridge. Your reply implies that they did, and that it is.’
‘They know you murdered Spynk and Carton, too. Stabbing me will not make your secret safe.’
‘So my best option remains flight. Still, I managed to remove a few items of value from the canons’ chapels when they were preoccupied with Fencotes. Those silly men are easily diverted.’
Bartholomew regarded her askance, amazed she should be so casual. ‘Does it mean nothing that you have murdered three men?’
She gave the question some serious consideration. ‘I just wish I had done it sooner, before Spynk and Fencotes started to drive up the price of Sewale Cottage. If I had, it would have been mine by now. I thought Michaelhouse would refuse to treat with Barnwell after one of your scholars was killed in its grounds, but I underestimated the power of greed.’
‘You think Michaelhouse is greedy?’ Bartholomew was astounded by her hypocrisy.
‘Your colleagues have no scruples whatsoever.’ She grinned suddenly, the beaming, sweet smile that had seen her voted the most attractive lady in Cambridge by his students. It was difficult to view her as a cold killer who stabbed men in the back. ‘You think I should feel remorse for taking a life in a House of God. How naïve! I am a coven member, and such places hold no meaning for me.’
‘Not all coven members feel the same way – your husband among them. Many still pray on Sundays, because they are confused by what they are being told – pulled by the Church one way and the Sorcerer the other.’
‘Weaklings,’ she said in disgust. ‘I suffer from no such indecision. When you and your book-bearer told me what Carton had come to do, I decided to put an end to it.’
‘I know,’ said Bartholomew. ‘The convent was virtually deserted, with most of the canons in their dormitory, and you guessed Norton would take Carton to the chapel, because it is cool. When you arrived, you saw Carton lying on the floor, praying, while Norton fetched him wine.’
Jodoca’s expression was a little distant. ‘It was all so easy. And then I went home and nursed my poor husband back to health.’
‘And Spynk? I suppose you asked him to meet you in Sewale Cottage at midnight, perhaps with promises of recovering the box together.’
She smirked at him. ‘That is exactly what I did, although I had no intention of sharing, of course. Unfortunately, the Bishop’s henchmen arrived, too, and I realised my plan was not going to work. But then you appeared, and considerately created a diversion for me. While Spynk gaped at the spectacle, I stabbed him and escaped. Do you know where Danyell’s hoard came from? Originally?’
‘He brought it from London. Perhaps it came from work he had done–’
She laughed derisively. ‘How could such a massive sum belong to a mason? It is the Bishop’s money, extorted from some hapless victim, no doubt. His retainers were taking it to Avignon, but–’
‘But Brownsley and Osbern were in London at the same time as Danyell, and Danyell stole it from them.’ Bartholomew was beginning to see a lot of answers now. ‘He and Spynk fled north, and the Bishop’s men tracked them. Brownsley said they had come to raise more funds …’