‘But why would she–’ began Michael.
‘We can discuss her motives later,’ interrupted Bartholomew shortly. ‘After we have prevented a massacre.’
‘If you can prevent it,’ said John grimly. ‘Joan was staying at the Spital, was she not? I imagine she guessed that the “lunatics” are really Frenchmen in hiding, and I have a bad feeling that she has not finished with them yet.’
‘And I have a bad feeling that you are right,’ said Bartholomew.
Chapter 16
Bartholomew was glad when Heltisle’s Horde was augmented by half a dozen Gilbertines, led by Prior John. The canons carried no weapons, so would be of scant use in a fight, but there was always the chance that the presence of priests would make a mob think twice about what it was doing. He glanced behind him, and noted that the six beadles were now down to five, as one had slunk away rather than face what lay ahead.
The glow from the Spital was brighter now, and he realised with despair that there were hundreds of torches – which meant hundreds of folk baying for ‘enemy’ blood. What could he, Michael, Cynric, five reluctant beadles and a handful of unarmed canons do against so many? Tulyet had been right: the Spital was already lost, and they should have stayed in the town, where they might have done some good.
‘I still do not believe it,’ Michael gasped as they hurried along. ‘The culprit cannot be Joan. She is too bluff and honest for so sly a scheme. It seems to me that someone has gone to a lot of trouble to see her accused.’
‘Katherine?’ suggested Bartholomew. ‘She is the Bishop’s sister, and we all know how devious and ruthless he can be. Perhaps it runs in the family.’
As far as Michael was concerned, that was a worse solution than Joan. ‘We only have Isabel’s word that a comb was by Paris’s body, and she was deceitful, as evidenced by her questionable dealings with Alice. Besides, there was no time for Joan – or anyone else – to reclaim the thing while Isabel lay insensible.’
‘There was,’ countered Bartholomew. ‘When Isabel swooned a second time – at the disturbing sight of a wantonly low-cut bodice – she was out for several minutes. If it was a repeat of her first episode, there would have been ample time for the killer to act.’
‘I still do not believe–’
‘And there is something else. We crossed Joan off our list of suspects because Goda said she could see Joan in the stables while she herself was in the kitchen. But did you check that is actually possible? I did not.’
‘Nor did I,’ said Cynric, who had been listening with unabashed interest. ‘But I know the answer: you cannot see one from the other, because the chapel is in the way.’
‘Goda lied,’ Bartholomew went on. ‘She did not mention seeing Joan when we first spoke to her – she only “remembered” during a second interview, by which time Joan had realised that she needed help.’
‘There is a flaw in your argument,’ pounced Michael. ‘Goda claimed she could see the shed from the kitchen, too – which is possible, because I have a vivid recollection of a tray of cakes being carried from the kitchen when I was examining the burnt shed. But Goda made no mention of Joan slinking inside with a fancy French dagger – and remember that this was before anyone would have had a chance to bribe her.’
‘Goda cannot have been gazing out of the door every moment that morning,’ argued Bartholomew. ‘At some point she would have looked away to put bread in the oven or fetch ingredients from the pantry. Or perhaps Goda did see Joan, but did not know it – she said the Girards “popped in and out”. Well, one “Girard” may have been Joan in disguise.’
Michael remained unconvinced. ‘But why would Goda lie? She cannot have known Joan well enough to warrant that sort of devotion.’
‘She did not do it for friendship, she did it for money. We know she was greedy – she coveted the dagger that killed the Girards, and she asked to be paid for answering questions. Joan capitalised on that avarice and bought herself an alibi.’
‘He may be right, Brother,’ said Cynric. ‘Ever since the Spital murders, Goda has been flush with cash – new clothes, new shoes, new hair-frets. And that is suspicious, because the Tangmers are broke. She did not get her windfall from them.’
‘No, she got it from the oils she stole from Amphelisa,’ countered Michael.
‘Not even the best oils would fetch the kind of money Goda has been laying out,’ stated Cynric with great conviction. ‘They–’
‘But Goda began to sport these new purchases before Joan knew she needed an alibi,’ Michael pointed out irritably. ‘I repeat: Matt’s logic is flawed.’
‘Not so,’ insisted Bartholomew. ‘Hélène’s milk was dosed with a soporific, and as I seriously doubt that Joan thought to pack some when she left Lyminster, it means she got it here – from someone with access to Amphelisa’s supplies. I imagine Goda charged her a small fortune.’
‘And may have blackmailed her about it after,’ put in Cynric.
‘Which means Joan knew that Goda would do anything for money,’ Bartholomew went on, ‘while Goda knew that Joan had deep pockets. A deal was made and we looked no further at either suspect.’
‘Moreover, Goda hated the French,’ said Cynric. ‘I heard her say so several times. She would have had no problem looking the other way while Joan dispatched a few.’
‘But people like Goda can never be trusted to keep their mouths shut,’ continued Bartholomew. ‘So Joan killed her, too. She is tying up loose ends, ready to return to her priory and her life as a servant of God.’
‘What about Delacroix and his friends?’ asked Michael archly. ‘Are they to be forgotten in all this? I thought we had agreed that they were our most likely suspects.’
But Bartholomew was still thinking about Joan, and something else became clear to him. ‘We have assumed it was Alice who told Norbert about the peregrini – that she guessed what they were on one of her visits to the Spital. But Joan and her Lyminster sisters also recognised them as displaced Frenchmen.’
‘It was Alice!’ snapped Michael. ‘She betrayed herself by scratching.’
‘Precisely! Joan knew that if she clawed at herself as she dispensed her treacherous news, everyone would assume that Alice was the guilty party. And we did.’
‘Then what about the Rouen daggers?’ pressed Michael. ‘Joan said they were familiar. Why would she do that if she had been the one to wield them?’
‘And has her testimony led us to the killer? No, it has not! What it has done, however, is make us think she is on our side, valiantly striving to dig solutions from her memory.’
‘But why?’ cried Michael. ‘There has been no hint of Joan doing anything like this before. I would have heard if there were lots of unsolved murders around her priory.’
Bartholomew knew the answer to that, too. ‘Because of Winchelsea. She was appalled by what she saw there, and Katherine said she is building a chantry chapel for the victims – a massive undertaking that reveals how deeply she was affected by the experience.’
‘She was distressed by it,’ acknowledged Michael. ‘She mentioned it several times when we rode to the Austin Priory together. But–’
‘She is avenging the victims by killing Frenchmen: Paris, Bonet, the Girards, Bruges and Sauvage. Although she made an erroneous assumption with the last two.’
‘And tonight will see the remaining peregrini slaughtered,’ finished Cynric. ‘She will not even have to bloody her own hands, because our town will do it for her.’