‘But why would she kill Bonde?’ asked Michael, still sceptical. ‘He liked her well enough to wish he had married her.’
‘He ran all manner of errands for her apparently, including tampering with saddle straps. As he lay dying, she calmly informed him that his death was to ensure that he did not interfere with the plan that will swing into action tonight.’
‘What plan?’ gulped Michael in alarm.
‘Jan did not hear that bit. However, remember that Bonde’s first loyalty was to the Lady, which means he would have baulked at any plot to harm her–’
At that moment, Grym waddled up, his plump face creased in agitation. ‘Quintone has just informed me that Anne told the squires to cut off his ears,’ he announced. ‘Pain must have driven him out of his wits, because no anchoress would do such a terrible thing. Do you have any medicine to calm him, Matthew? I dare not dose him with hemlock, as–’
He stopped at the sound of angry footsteps, and turned to see who was coming. It was Cambrug, saddlebags slung over his shoulder. The architect addressed him with sneering contempt.
‘Nicholas does not have the good manners to spare me a moment of his time before I leave, so I am forced to deal with you, Acting Mayor. The cracks in the ceiling are ugly. Roger should have reported them to me, so I could tell him how to mend them. Where is he?’
‘Dead,’ replied Grym, and raised his eyebrows at Cambrug’s start of surprise. ‘You did not know? Nicholas promised to write and tell you. Roger was killed by a piece of falling scaffolding back in April.’
Cambrug regarded him in disgust. ‘Then of course there will be unsightly gaps in the stone. Only experienced masons – like Roger – know how to join blocks seamlessly. You should have–’
‘The anchorhold,’ interjected Bartholomew urgently. ‘You built it for Anne. Were you given any particular instructions?’
Cambrug scowled his indignation at being interrupted. ‘Just to make it comfortable,’ he replied shortly. ‘Which I did not need to be told, given that someone will spend the rest of her life in it. I included a stone floor for hygiene, two windows with–’
‘Did you include an emergency exit?’
‘I did, as a matter of fact, and it is a very sensible precaution. Churches catch fire, condemning their anchorites to terrible deaths. So I installed a tunnel that leads to the vicarage. It is a very clever solution on my part: Anne can escape in the event of a disaster, but only her priest can open the trapdoor. It means she cannot abandon her vocation for paltry reasons.’
‘No wonder Nicholas does not want to move house,’ muttered Michael.
The church was now dark and full of shadows, as the lamps had been very cleverly placed so that most of their light shone upwards. Their beams were not strong enough to reveal the cracks or unpainted sections, but they certainly illuminated the intricate stone lace of the fan vaulting. Once Cambrug had stamped away, full of hubris and foul temper, Michael turned to Grym.
‘There will be trouble for certain if the ceremony goes ahead tonight. As Acting Mayor, do you have the authority to cancel it and impose a curfew?’
‘Yes, in theory,’ replied Grym unhappily. ‘But no one will obey it. Go and look out of the window, and you will see why the situation has gone well beyond my control.’
The three scholars did as he suggested, and saw that an enormous crowd had gathered in the churchyard, lit by dozens of flickering torches. It comprised not just the residents of Clare, but folk from the surrounding villages as well. And its mood was ugly. Most were armed with sticks or knives, and were yelling abuse at a contingent of soldiers from the castle, all of whom had drawn their swords and were bawling back.
‘They are quarrelling over Quintone’s ears,’ explained Grym. ‘And there are twice as many of them now as there were when I came in, with more flocking to join them as we speak.’
‘Then do your duty and order them to disperse,’ said Michael curtly. ‘They are your people.’
‘They are not! I do not know most of them, so why would they listen to me? Look – you can see Paycock over by the gate, and even he senses the situation is out of control. You can tell by the anguished expression on his face.’
It was true. The feisty bailiff was watching the howling crowd with an expression of open horror, and it was clear that he had not anticipated such a vigorous reaction to his rabble-rousing.
‘It is very convenient for Anne that Paycock has been agitating,’ mused Michael. ‘And making sure that no slight to the town is overlooked. Are they friends?’
‘Not friends exactly,’ replied Grym, ‘but she saved his daughter from an embarrassing pregnancy, so he has always been in her debt.’
At that moment, there was an especially angry roar from the crowd, which made the barber turn a sickly green colour. He turned abruptly and aimed for the back door.
‘Where are you going?’ demanded Langelee, moving to block him.
‘Kedyngton,’ replied Grym shortly. ‘Clare is too dangerous for a man who is not very quick on his feet, and I shall be an obvious target if the castle attacks. You must excuse me.’
‘You will stay and shoulder your responsibilities,’ countered Langelee sternly. ‘Or your town will be ablaze before the night is out. You cannot abandon it now.’
‘Oh, yes, I can,’ declared Grym, lowering his head and charging for the door again; his bulk was such that even Langelee was unequal to preventing his escape. He called over his shoulder as he went, ‘It is every man for himself tonight. I shall return when all this nonsense is over.’
‘In that case, we should leave, too,’ determined Langelee, staggering in the barber’s wake. ‘I do not see why we should risk our lives when Clare’s leaders are unwilling to do so. I have seen some serious disturbances in my time, but none involving quite so many people.’
‘But the castle will win,’ predicted Michael. ‘Its warriors have proper weapons.’
‘They do,’ acknowledged Langelee, ‘but the town has the benefit of reinforcements from the villages. I should not like to hazard a guess as to who will emerge the victor. Neither, probably – both will have lost too much.’
‘Anne,’ said Bartholomew urgently. ‘She started all this, so she can stop it. People listen to her. If we can force her to tell everyone to desist …’
He hurried to her cell and peered through the squint. He could not see her, but the screen covered the far side of the chamber. A carefully aimed stone thrown by Langelee knocked it over. Behind it was a very comfortable bed, but no one was in it. The cell was empty.
‘Do you see what lies on her pillow?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘A length of purple silk.’
‘Mayor Godeston’s,’ breathed Michael, watching Langelee hook it towards them with a broom. ‘Discovered missing when his body was found. Give it to me. It will serve as evidence against her – assuming we live to produce it, of course.’ He shoved the filmy material into his scrip.
‘You will not need it,’ predicted Bartholomew, ‘because she will not be here. You can see for yourself that most of her things have gone, and she was quite open about the fact that she sells all the gifts she cannot use. She has plenty of money to start a new life somewhere else, once her evil work here is done.’
‘With Nicholas,’ surmised Michael. ‘Or without him, depending on whether her affection for him is sincere. I know we have no authority to meddle here, but I could not live with myself if I did not at least try to prevent a massacre. Will you help me?’
‘I will,’ said Langelee keenly. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Fetch the Austins. Thomas was supposed to do it, but I have a bad feeling that he is under Anne’s influence, too, and the message may not have reached them. I know some of the friars are still out looking for you and Weste, but bring as many as you can.’