‘What are you talking about, Brother?’
‘Huddle the painter was killed leaving Saint Erconwald’s Church. You, along with the others, were supposed to be detained here in the Tower. ‘Quis Custodiet custodes?’ As the great Augustine said, ‘Who will guard the guards?’ Rossleyn provided you with the weapons and allowed you secret passage in and out of the Tower. You are a master or mistress of disguise. You followed Sir John and I across the bridge and waited. A figure wearing the black and white garb of a Dominican left Saint Erconwald’s, you loosed and killed Huddle.’
A smile flittered across Rachael’s face.
‘Or was it me that you intended to kill? Did you suspect, or were you informed, that Huddle was the real traitor? I cannot be precise about everything in this hideous affair and, to a certain extent, it does not matter now. Huddle lies cold in the soil. However, you did make a mistake over that poor painter’s death as well as your other doings in my parish. What did you know of them? You talked about me burying a parishioner. You implied he had been killed – but how did you know that? I never told anyone here, nor did Sir John. None of my parishioners know you or you them. So how?’
‘I confessed under the seal.’
‘Not as a sin. Are you doing that now? Then your confession must be public.’
Rachael flicked her hair, rubbing her face between her hands.
‘Much more serious were the Wardes. You discovered they were Gaunt’s spies in the cell of Saint Erconwald’s. The Upright Men must have told you that, or Rosselyn. You’d surely demand the truth about how Boaz and others were so neatly trapped. The finger of suspicion pointed at the Wardes. May God absolve you, Rachael. You did not confess to me, not really. You did not validly take the sacrament; you are not covered by the seal. You seethe with hatred. You have an unslaked thirst, a ravenous hunger for revenge. Did the Upright Men demand the total annihilation of the Wardes? If not, your vengeance certainly did.’
‘So I left the Tower, crossed to Southwark and massacred an entire family?’
‘In a word, yes! Rosselyn allowed you out. You ensured all was safe, quiet then you moved. You carried out your hideous crime without any sign of resistance or struggle. Why, Rachael?’
She just shrugged.
‘Because,’ Cranston spoke his thoughts aloud, ‘Warde admitted someone he either knew and trusted or someone who appeared to pose no threat.’
‘Precisely,’ Athelstan agreed. ‘On that fateful evening Humphrey Warde opened his door to a delightful young woman who claimed to have a recommendation to visit him. I presume you came in disguise, hooded and cowled. You also gambled on the fact that the Wardes were distrusted – not the type of family to be entertaining in a parish where they were so fiercely resented. If there had been any obstacle to your plan, you’d either wait to come back or visit again.’ Athelstan sipped from his goblet. ‘Anyway, why should Warde fear a charming young woman? You are well spoken and courteous. He greets you warmly, you respond. The rest of his household hear this and return to their routine. You follow Warde into his small shop and ask for an opiate. He turns away. You bring up the crossbow you’ve concealed and kill him. Warde, before he died, had prepared a small pouch of opiate for you. You’d also probably learnt that the only people in the house were his family. You intended to deal with all of them, the pretty, smiling young woman who carries death beneath her robe. You moved through that house, swiftly slaying before slipping into the darkness like the demon you’ve become.’ Athelstan took a further sip. ‘God forgive you, at least you spared the baby, but you made a mistake.’
‘What, what are you talking about?’
‘You made a mistake about Huddle’s death, but you also described Warde’s killer moving from chamber to chamber. How did you know that?’
‘I would like a drink,’ Rachael declared loudly. ‘My throat is dry. Have you finished, Brother?’
‘No, because you had not. The Upright Men did not really concern you. They could plot whatever they wanted against Gaunt. At the same time Thibault and his coven were growing more vigilant. So you turned back to easier quarry. You regarded the Straw Men as a coven of traitors, not so much to the Common Good but to the ideals your beloved Boaz died for.’
Athelstan leaned forward, offering her the goblet which she took. ‘I truly believe that you put the entire company under the ban. Samuel was your next victim.’
‘He committed suicide.’
‘No, you made it appear so. Once again with Rosselyn, now much smitten with you. Oh, yes, he was! I saw him watch you play that masque in Saint Peter’s ad Vincula. He, as with so many men you have dealt with, followed you like a dog guarding your ways. You slipped through the dark and into Bowyer Tower. You knocked at Samuel’s chamber. Only the good Lord knows what part you played then: worried, anxious, coy, timid or flirtatious. You also brought along a wine skin and a goblet. I’m sure the wine was laced with the opiate that you had taken from Warde’s shop. You pretended to drink. Samuel certainly did and fell into a dead swoon. You summoned up Rosselyn. You took the fire rope, fastened it around the senseless Samuel’s throat and thrust him out of the window to strangle. You then cleared the room and put anything you’d brought back into a sack. You leave. Rosselyn locks and bolts the door behind you and climbs out of the window. He uses the rope then the corpse to reach the chamber directly below. You were waiting for him. You opened the shutters and Rosselyn climbed through. You then close and bar the window. You would wipe away any wet, perhaps even sprinkle a little dust, but who would really notice in that darkened chamber? Moreover, those same shutters were violently disturbed – broken – when Thibault decided to force the chamber. What evidence could they offer? You hoped that would happen, which is why you locked that chamber and slid the key under the door.’ Athelstan paused and went to stand over her. She gazed coolly back.