‘You are insane, Matt!’ cried Michael, shocked. He lowered his voice when Marishal glanced towards them. ‘I know Anne is no more holy than we are, but she is still a–’
‘Someone who insists that tonight’s ceremony goes ahead, because “the stars are auspicious”,’ Bartholomew went on. ‘Someone who told Nicholas to let the squires into the church, even though it was obviously the wrong thing to do. Perhaps she even encouraged them to violate sanctuary – she would have seen what was happening through her squint, and I am sure she did not stay silent.’
‘You are wrong,’ hissed Michael. ‘Anne cannot possibly have known what really happened to Roos and Margery, but the culprit used their–’
‘She did not need to know the truth – she just had to twist it to suit herself.’ Bartholomew grew more certain with every word he spoke. ‘But let us consider each death in turn, Brother – the logical analysis that we both know will provide answers.’
‘We do not have time,’ objected Michael agitatedly. ‘We have to tell the Lady what happened down in the cistern, and then–’
‘We must make time. First, Roger. He died here, in the church where Anne lives.’
‘But she is walled in. She cannot have–’
‘Next, Talmach, the unwanted husband of Ella, who loves Anne like a mother. How convenient! Anne did not kill Charer, because Lichet told us what happened to him, but she certainly accused the castle of the crime.’
‘Well, someone from the castle was involved in–’
‘Wisbech was killed next, clearly as a ploy to drag the Austins into the feud, although John declined to be manipulated. Wisbech, Skynere and Godeston were poisoned with hemlock, a herb familiar to all those who dabble in dubious medicine – which Anne does.’
‘And non-dubious medicine,’ Michael pointed out. ‘You and Grym use it as well.’
That was true, but Bartholomew ignored it. ‘And when Godeston died, Anne was quick to claim that he was poisoned by a townsman in revenge for Margery.’
‘You read too much into her idle musings, Matt. She also accused the Austins at one point.’
‘Exactly! Which is evidence that she wants them involved in the dispute, so there will be no peace-keepers. Her remarks are not idle musings, but carefully contrived rumour-mongering. Think about what she has said in the last hour alone – a claim that Nuport ate Quintone’s ears, and comments that set town and castle against each other as they prepared the church for the ceremony.’
‘You argue your case well,’ acknowledged Michael. ‘But there is one big problem: Anne is walled inside her anchorhold and cannot get out. Or are you suggesting that she persuaded someone else to kill on her behalf?’
‘Why not? Nicholas does everything she wants, and you heard him call her “sweetest love”. She is obviously popular with people from both sides of the feud, as her cell is always full of gifts. Perhaps some of them repay her in other ways – not food and wine, but deeds.’
Michael shook his head. ‘I cannot see–’
‘The Lady said Anne is clever and resourceful. And I am not sure she is walled in anyway.’
‘Of course she is,’ said Michael impatiently. ‘The only openings are the two windows, which are far too small for anyone to squeeze through.’
‘She keeps one section of her cell covered by a screen–’
‘Yes, and the wall beyond it is solid stone. I checked it myself.’
‘Then what about the floor? It is always covered in straw, so how do you know there is not a trapdoor beneath? For a start, how did she get all that nice furniture in there?’
‘Put in as the cell was built, probably – which was fairly recently, as Nicholas told us that Cambrug designed it specially for her.’
But Bartholomew shook his head. ‘I have seen anchorholds before. They reek, because their occupants never get out. But Anne’s always smells clean and fresh.’
Michael was becoming exasperated. ‘Perhaps she is just more particular about hygiene.’
‘Do you remember Margery telling Lichet about a dream she had – of Anne and Nicholas walking hand in hand in the bailey? What if it was not a dream? What if she actually saw them?’
Michael opened his mouth to tell the physician that he had lost his grip on reality when he saw someone hurrying towards them. ‘Oh, Lord! Here comes Langelee. Now what?’
The Master had changed his muddy clothes at the priory, but as he had no spare cloak, he had borrowed the one that Albon had given Bartholomew. Aware that it might be recognised by someone who would take umbrage, he had turned it inside out, so that the black silk was on the outside and the red wool was on the inside. He was sombre-faced, subdued and pale – the revelations in the cistern had taken their toll on his customary jauntiness.
‘I know you ordered me to stay put,’ he began before Michael could berate him, ‘but I have important information. When I arrived at the friary, Jan was demanding to return to his hermitage. Weste asked me to escort him there, because he could spare no one else. I did not like to refuse, not when the Austins have been so hospitable …’
‘Too hospitable,’ muttered Michael tartly. ‘If they had been less free with their ale …’
Langelee went on hurriedly. ‘It was the first time that I had been alone with Jan, and I found him eager to talk. He confided that he had dared not speak while Weste was with me, because of the oaths of loyalty the friars have sworn to each other.’
Michael regarded him anxiously. ‘Are you about to tell us that one of them is the killer?’
‘He is,’ predicted Bartholomew. ‘And it will be Nicholas – Anne’s good friend.’
Langelee gaped at him. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Later,’ said Michael tersely, before Bartholomew could embark on a lengthy explanation. ‘What else did Jan tell you?’
‘That the reason he left Clare in such terror was because he had watched Anne poison Mayor Godeston – her and Nicholas together. They are lovers, apparently.’
‘So we were both right,’ said Michael, acknowledging Bartholomew’s look of triumph with a nod. ‘I thought from the start that there was something amiss with that vicar, although neither of you believed me. But is Jan sure about what he saw?’
Langelee nodded. ‘He also spotted Anne and Nicholas out on the nights that Wisbech and Skynere were poisoned, as well as shortly before Talmach and Albon came to grief. They had no idea he was watching them then, but they saw him when Godeston died – hence his abrupt flight.’
‘He could not have confided in someone first?’ asked Michael crossly. ‘To protect the town that feeds him? He might have saved lives if he had. So much for the selfless holy man!’
‘He did not think anyone would believe him. Anne is supposed to be walled up, and the whole town is convinced of her sanctity.’
‘Suzanne de Nekton saw Jan trail Bonde to the Cistern Tower on the night that Roos and Margery were murdered,’ recalled Bartholomew. ‘Did he tell you about that?’
Langelee nodded again. ‘But he assured me that it was just coincidence – neither of them saw or heard anything pertaining to the murders. However, Bonde’s first interviews with Michael and Lichet convinced him that he might be blamed anyway, so he decided to disappear until the fuss had died down – at Anne’s instigation, of course.’
‘But he did not go far,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Just to the woods …’
‘Where Jan watched Anne feed him hemlock,’ finished Langelee. ‘Afterwards, Nicholas hid the body, although not very well, as Weste and I unearthed it without too much trouble.’