Susanna GREGORY: The Killer of Pilgrims

‘Meryfeld’s cauldron,’ said Bartholomew, moving to a more urgent matter. ‘Did Welfry order you to lay hold of it?’

‘Yes! Dickon had mentioned it to him. He told me that if I grabbed it we could prevent it from being used on innocent people. I did as he suggested, eager to help avert an outrage. But when I presented it to him, he promptly passed it to Heslarton. I suspected then that something was wrong.’

‘Why did you not report it to Michael or his beadles?’

‘Because Welfry is the University’s Seneschal,’ explained Horneby in despair. ‘The man who calmed a potentially bloody situation outside King’s Hall this morning. Who would believe me? I decided to follow him instead, in an affort to learn exactly what he thinks he is doing. He came here, and shortly afterwards, Odelina arrived.’

‘Then what?’

‘She told him you knew almost everything about their plan. He merely smiled, and said he had acquired enough signacula at last, although he did not say for what. Then I must have made a sound, because she came and hit me. I cannot believe any of this. Surely, I am dreaming?’

‘Welfry is strong, fast and agile,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Capable of snatching Poynton’s badge, of donning a disguise and stealing Edith’s, of breaking into Gyseburne’s home to take his…’

‘Odelina is furious that he made her grandmother and Celia his victims,’ said Horneby. ‘But he has promised to make it up to her. He mentioned something about already giving her father a nice red cloak as compensation. Welfry! He is my friend !’

‘Have you burned the notes for your lecture?’

Horneby regarded him askance. ‘No, of course not! I have been working on them for months.’

‘Then have you been reading books on alchemy, and conducting experiments?’

‘No! I have not had time, not with my lecture looming, although Welfry has always been interested in such matters. But how can you ask such irrelevant questions when there is an atrocity to prevent? You must act, Bartholomew! Now, before it is too late!’

Bartholomew tried to scramble to his feet when he heard a sound behind him, but his legs were still too unsteady. Odelina was already swinging a heavy sword towards his neck.

Bartholomew’s life might have come to an end there and then, if it had not been for Horneby. The theologian reached up and hauled Bartholomew down on top of him, so Odelina’s wild swipe passed harmlessly over both their heads. While she regained her balance, Bartholomew scrambled upright, and Horneby eased himself up on to one elbow, his face ashen with shock and pain. Bartholomew knew exactly how he felt.

‘Welfry has deceived us all,’ the Carmelite said in a low, strained voice. ‘Please, Odelina. You must see this is wrong. People will die, and it will be on your conscience.’

‘I do not have a conscience,’ declared Odelina. ‘At least, that is what my father always says. And if it should happen to twinge, then Welfry has enough pilgrim tokens to buy me a clean slate.’

‘Put down the sword,’ ordered Bartholomew, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. But he had to stop Welfry, and there was no time to fool around with Odelina. ‘You are not going to escape this time, and whatever Welfry has planned is going to fail. The Sheriff, Senior Proctor and all manner of other people are working to thwart him.’

Odelina laughed unpleasantly. ‘But they will not succeed, because no one knows he is the one they should be hunting. He will outwit them, just as he has outwitted them before. In fact, his plan is already a success, because he wanted Horneby to be seen as the villain, and that is exactly what folk believe.’

Bartholomew took a tentative step towards the door, but she waved the weapon menacingly. Could he disarm her? Unfortunately, he knew he was not yet strong enough to try, not even with Thelnetham’s miraculous tonic coursing in his veins. She would kill him, and then she would kill Horneby, and there would be no one left to tell Michael the truth.

‘He was jealous of you, Horneby,’ Odelina was saying. ‘Of your intellect, although I do not think wits are an especially enviable commodity. As far as I am concerned, they make men arrogant, and unwilling to appreciate pretty ladies in search of husbands.’

‘Even if Welfry succeeds, it will not help you,’ said Bartholomew harshly. ‘Because you will be in prison, awaiting execution for the murder of Drax, Gib and your mother.’

‘Not me,’ said Odelina smugly. ‘And I did not kill Drax, as I keep telling you. But none of it matters, because Welfry is taking me to France on Isnard’s barge. I shall marry him, and we will live happily ever after.’

‘He is a priest,’ said Horneby quietly. ‘He cannot marry.’

‘He is going to retract his vows,’ asserted Odelina. ‘Why do you think he has been amassing so many pilgrim badges? It is to buy himself freedom from the silly promises he made to God.’

Horneby looked as though he felt sorry for her. ‘He will not settle down with you, Odelina. Marriage will deprive him of everything he loves – books, learning, jokes with the novices–’

‘He loves me ,’ declared Odelina stubbornly, raising the sword. ‘And we will wed. But you will not be alive to see the happy day.’

‘Think, Odelina,’ urged Horneby. He struggled to his knees. ‘Do you not see what he is doing? You will be blamed for killing Matthew and me, leaving him to walk free.’

‘He will meet me by Isnard’s barge,’ insisted Odelina. ‘He promised.’

‘He will not be there,’ said Horneby, compassion in his voice, while Bartholomew listened to the discussion in an agony of tension. Every moment wasted with Odelina was time for Welfry to realise his diabolical plans, and he itched to dive at her and wrest the sword from her grip. Surely it was worth the risk, to prevent something so evil? He took another step towards the door.

‘He will,’ insisted Odelina. She feinted at Bartholomew, causing him to flinch, but this time there was uncertainty in the manoeuvre. Perhaps he could disarm her…

‘Let us go, so we can prevent more mayhem,’ urged Horneby with quiet reason. ‘I will speak for you at your trial. He has clearly lied to you, as he has to me.’

‘I will never betray him,’ declared Odelina. Tears began to form in her eyes. ‘And I am not listening to any more of your clever words. You are only trying to confuse me.’

‘Why is he so intent on causing such mischief?’ asked Horneby quickly, when her fingers tightened around the hilt and the great blade began to wobble towards Bartholomew again. ‘You could at least tell us that before we die.’

For a moment, Bartholomew thought she was going to attack them without answering the question, but then she began to speak.

‘He does not want Kendale in Cambridge, because he has aggravated the rivalry between the hostels and Colleges. He wants him ousted, by having him blamed for all the murders and thefts. He says the University will be better off without such men in it.’

Bartholomew regarded her in disbelief. ‘ Kendale has caused trouble? What about Welfry?’

‘Enough talking!’ she shouted suddenly. ‘I should be at Isnard’s barge, not chattering here with you. Say your prayers, both of you. I will try to be merciful.’

She advanced on Bartholomew, but she had been holding the weapon aloft too long, and her arms were fatigued. She struggled to lift it, and the fractional delay gave him just enough time to lunge forward and grab her arm. The situation had resolved, he realised with sudden clarity, exactly as Horneby had engineered it to, and explained why the friar had been to such pains to keep her talking for so long.