The Straw Men(86)

‘Why?’ Rachael retorted. ‘Why Barak?’

‘No real reason. You grew to hate all of them, didn’t you? What did it matter? Perhaps Barak was the easiest to persuade, to follow you into that darkened crypt. He was just a sacrifice. The real reason for Barak’s murder was to spread terror, cause mayhem, deepen suspicion, proclaim that Gaunt’s much-lauded acting group the Straw Men could not be trusted, that no one was safe, even in this grim great fortress. Barak was a sacrificial lamb on your altar of vengeance. Eli was no different. He too was much smitten with you.’ Athelstan rose and walked to the door of his chamber. He pulled the eyelet shutter backwards and forwards, ‘Strange,’ he mused loudly, ‘how the shutter in Eli’s chamber was stuck and had to be prised loose. This one isn’t. The same is true of Master Samuel’s chamber. Rosselyn claimed it was a common problem yet it only occurred with Eli’s chamber door.’

‘But it did!’

‘Oh, I agree. Do you remember when we first talked? How Samuel maintained that all members of his troupe were skilled in arms? How you had to be ready with weapons to fend off dangers on the road?’ She did not answer. ‘And aren’t you mistress of the wardrobe? Responsible for the scenery?’ Again, there was no reply. ‘On the night you visited Eli? Oh, yes,’ he stilled her protest, ‘oh, yes you did! Just before you entered his chamber, you put in that small recess near the door a pot of glue with a small horsehair brush and another hand-held arbalest already primed. Outside that tower prowled Rosselyn to conceal and protect your coming and going. I am certain he started that fire to divert attention away from you.’ Athelstan sat down. ‘You visited Eli. You acted the loving wench, flirtatious and coy.’

‘Why should I kill Eli?’

‘First, he had sheltered beneath a table near the rood screen. Did he see something untowards, Rachael? Something he mentioned to you?’ She did not answer.

‘Secondly, Eli was a member of the troupe who spied for Thibault and brought about your beloved’s death.’ Rachael blinked and glanced away. ‘I will be brief.’ Athelstan hurried on. ‘You made sure there was no sign of you being there. You probably drank from the same goblet as Eli, a token of your loving pledges to him. Eli must have been delighted. You were acting the fair damsel in considerable distress, shocked by the hideous death of poor Barak.’

‘Eli died in a locked, barred chamber.’

‘I agree. You left that chamber like the amorous wench you pretended to be. You told Eli to lock and bolt the door, to take great care; after all, a killer did stalk the Tower. You then drew him into a loving but deadly game. Once outside the chamber, the door secured, you picked up that small arbalest and knocked on the door. Eli would hear your voice and pull back the eyelet shutter – he may have even offered to let you in but you teased and flirted. The hour was late, you’d return soon enough. I do not know what lies you spun but you asked Eli, peering through that shutter at his new-found love, to close his eyes.’

‘Why should he do that?’

‘Oh, come, Rachael! Lovers often close their eyes when they kiss. Are there not games when you tell the beloved to close his or her eyes to wish and, if they do, you’d tell them a secret, some promised pleasure at the next tryst? Rachael, the possibilities are infinite. Eli was staring through that eyelet at this beautiful young woman who was promising to be his. He’d do anything – certainly some innocent lovers’ game, or so he thought. All aflame with the wine he’d drunk and the prospect of impending seduction, of course he agreed. You played the game. You whispered that he should keep his eyes closed, not to open them until you said. You brought up that small crossbow. You released the bolt as fast as a bird across the briefest of distances; it sped through that eyelet, smashing into Eli’s face. Stricken, dying on his feet, Eli stumbled away and collapsed to the floor.’ Athelstan turned to Sir John. ‘My friend, calculate the time it would take: Eli peering out through that squint, eyes firmly closed, the crossbow coming up, the release of the bolt only inches from its victim’s face?’

‘A few heartbeats,’ the coroner agreed. ‘Eli would never suspect.’

‘Eli died,’ Athelstan continued. ‘You then took that pot of glue, the same substance you use in creating and setting up scenery. A few drops on the old dusty shutter and, by the time the alarm was raised, the eyelet is stuck fast. The glue had hardened, the shutter just another task waiting to be done, an ancient piece of wood in an ancient door in an ancient place.’ Athelstan pointed at Rachael. ‘You are not only a very skilled mummer, you are also a weaver of dreams and illusions.’ Athelstan sat staring at the young woman’s face. ‘Very soon afterwards you removed all the evidence, didn’t you?’