Drecht was bleeding from a gash on the head made by a rock now sitting innocuously beside him. Somebody had thrown it at him.
Arent’s eyes passed across the crowd slowly, causing them to shy back.
‘You’ve got the right to be angry at him,’ said Arent. ‘After what he did. You’ve got the right to be angry at her, as well.’ He jerked his thumb towards Creesjie. ‘But enough blood’s been spilt already. There’s wrongs need righting and we’ll come to that soon enough, but it won’t be done from anger. That’s how Old Tom got loose in the first place, and real or not, look at the damage was done.’ He let the words settle, then crossed the space towards Creesjie. He was grim-faced and huge, and she shrank away from him.
‘Do you have my father’s rosary?’ he demanded.
‘I threw it away,’ she said, sounding genuinely remorseful. ‘It was among Pieter’s possessions. Your uncle hired Pieter to kill your father, and your grandfather asked for the rosary as proof he’d completed his contract. Once he’d seen it, Casper ordered Pieter to destroy it, but he kept it for some reason. A trophy, perhaps. It wasn’t left in the animal pens to hurt you, Arent.’ There was a throb in her throat. ‘I wanted Jan Haan to know why this was happening to him. The assassination of your father is what started everything. When Pieter stabbed him, you leapt at Pieter with an arrow, and he had to half drown you in a stream to keep you from killing him. Pieter was so badly injured it was all he could do to drag himself away. He was afraid of you, that’s why he left you in the woods alone. A jagged rock made that scar on your wrist as you thrashed in the water. It shouldn’t have led to anything, but you drew it on some doors in a village, and when Jan saw the chaos it caused, he realised he had a way to make himself a fortune. He brought the scheme to Casper van den Berg and Pieter. Casper provided the necessary funds and Pieter spun a tale of possession and rituals out of it, using his fellow witchfinders to terrorise the lands of those Jan sent him after. Together, they drove their competitors out of business, including my family.’
‘Your family?’ queried Drecht, still tied to his rock.
‘Creesjie Jens was born Emily de Haviland,’ said Sara, examining every twitch of Creesjie’s face, trying to find the woman within. For the past two years, she had looked on these features with love, thinking she knew every thought that lay behind them. Now, she realised how foolish she’d been. She’d been used and betrayed.
She felt like she’d lost Creesjie, not her husband.
Creesjie examined her admiringly. ‘I knew you were clever,’ she said. ‘Though I’ll admit that innocent girl’s name fits ill the sinful woman I became. How did you know I was behind this?’
‘Vos’s records. Our passage receipts were on his desk after he died, as if they’d been troubling him. There were bills for my cabin, Lia’s and even my husband’s. I didn’t know why, but when Arent told me he suspected you, I had a thought. Vos kept all my husband’s accounts, so he knew exactly what my husband had purchased, and what he hadn’t. You kept telling us that you were only onboard because my husband had demanded you sail with us, and that he’d paid for your passage. Why then was your receipt of passage not among Vos’s records? It was because my husband had made no such demand, and hadn’t paid for your cabin. You mistakenly mentioned the lie to Vos, didn’t you? And he realised. That’s why the leper had to kill him.’
Creesjie murmured her agreement. ‘And if he hadn’t, Arent very likely would have died at Vos’s hands. Strange how fate works, isn’t it?’ She looked across at Arent, who had returned to the sea edge to watch the yawl approach. He was holding himself tense, his fists clenched.
‘What made you suspect me?’ she asked. ‘I thought I’d been so careful.’
Arent was so intent upon the approaching yawl, he didn’t notice people were waiting for him to talk until Isabel tugged his sleeve. ‘They want to know how you realised Creesjie was responsible for the governor general’s death,’ she said.
Arent’s gaze passed across the expectant faces before him, his thoughts obviously still far afield. ‘My uncle was killed in his bunk by a long blade thrust down through the bottom of Sara’s bunk, then drawn back up again. I realised the dagger had to have been plunged into the wound after my uncle was dead, and there was only one chance to do it – when Creesjie first found the body. That’s why the candle had to be snuffed. If the room had been lit, Drecht would have immediately seen that there was no dagger in his chest. It would have taken Sammy minutes to work out how the crime had been committed. After the leper killed my uncle, he climbed down to my uncle’s porthole and used a candle snuffer stored above it to extinguish the light. Creesjie forced Drecht to leave the room to get another, then stabbed my uncle in the existing wound.’
‘Outlandish, I admit,’ sighed Creesjie, rubbing her eyes. ‘But there was no other way of killing him without getting caught. Drecht dogged his steps whenever he left the fort, and he wore that damn breastplate everywhere except bed.’
‘If Aunt Creesjie wasn’t the leper, who was?’ demanded Lia, bewildered.
‘The answer’s in that boat,’ said Sara, pointing to the yawl. ‘A little patience won’t hurt you.’
‘It might,’ disagreed Lia irritably. ‘How did you come to be my father’s mistress? I’m assuming it wasn’t a coincidence.’
‘Without family I had no wealth or influence, so I had to rely on my beauty. My first husband was a holy terror, but I used his wealth to hunt down the witchfinder. Once I found him, I left my husband and reinvented myself as a courtesan. I seduced Pieter, intending to kill him when I had the opportunity, but …’ She growled, like an animal in a trap. ‘I fell in love with him. He’d given up his work, and he was kind and generous and … he made me feel like somebody new. I allowed myself to believe he’d changed. That I’d changed. Then our funds grew short, and he started talking of a scheme that he’d used to make himself rich. He sent a missive to Arent’s grandfather, and I knew he was going to start again. He was planning to destroy more families the way he’d destroyed mine. I called –’ she almost stumbled into the name again, before recovering – ‘an old friend, who tortured Pieter for the names of his associates. We then set about our vengeance. ’
There were tears in her eyes. The same tears that had been there every time she’d talked about Pieter in the past. She really had loved him, thought Sara in bewilderment.
‘And that brought you to my husband?’ she asked.
‘I’d met your husband years earlier through Pieter, and knew he had an eye for me. After I killed Pieter, I wrote to him and professed an adoration. He had me on the first boat to Batavia.’
‘Then why wait? Why not kill him when you arrived two years ago?’
‘Because I would have been caught, and I loved my boys – and now, you and Lia – far too much to be parted from you. I needed to wait for the right moment.’
Arent waded into the water to help pull the yawl up the shoal. Isaack Larme jumped out, holding a lantern. Manning the oars were Eggert and Thyman.
‘You were right about everything,’ said Larme, shaking Arent’s hand. ‘He was exactly where you said he’d be. He wants to see you.’
‘Who wants to see us?’ demanded Lia, vexed. ‘Who was helping Aunt Creesjie?’
‘You’ve read all our cases, Lia,’ replied Arent. ‘Do you know how many things Sammy Pipps has ever overlooked in our history together?’
‘None,’ she said, as if offended by the notion of fallibility.
‘That’s right,’ he said, sadly. ‘And yet, somehow, he missed a simple trapdoor in the animal pens that led down to Captain Crauwels’s cabin.’