Susanna GREGORY - The Devil's Disciples

‘I always remove mine before I pray,’ said Norton sheepishly. ‘I only wear it when I am outside the sacred confines of our chapels.’

‘Which is exactly what Carton did,’ said Bartholomew. ‘He took it off, then lay on the floor in the pose of a penitent, with his arms out to either side. Fencotes found the charm later, between two flagstones. And what happened next is partly my fault. Cynric and I told Jodoca what Carton had come to do here. So, she and her husband engineered an excuse for her to leave their house, and she hurried to see what could be done to prevent the negotiations.’

‘She stabbed him where he lay?’ breathed Norton, appalled.

Bartholomew nodded. ‘I thought he might have been killed by a tall man, because the wound was high. But the wound was high because she inflicted it when he was on the ground. I made an erroneous assumption, and it left Jodoca free to kill again.’

Fencotes opened his eyes. ‘You cannot blame yourself for what Jodoca did,’ he whispered. ‘And you cannot blame yourself for Thomas’s death, either. Carton knew it was suspicious, and tried to tell you several times that your medicine was not to blame. He even gave you a packet of powder, in the hope that you would think poison had killed him. He did not want you agonising.’

‘I do not understand.’ Bartholomew experienced a lurch of misgiving. ‘Carton did not confess to killing Thomas, did he? Because Thomas was on the verge of exposing him as an impostor?’

‘No,’ said Fencotes firmly. ‘I knew Carton was a Dominican – he confided in me because he needed a confessor, and felt he could not go anywhere else. He spent a lot of time here, unburdening himself and praying with me.’

Bartholomew recalled having been told that before, and had been surprised. Yet it made sense: Carton could not have visited the Dominicans for solace, because that would have endangered his mission, and he could hardly go to the Franciscans. But Barnwell was well outside the town, and Carton could have talked to Fencotes without fear of being seen or overheard.

‘Carton thought Mildenale murdered Thomas,’ Fencotes was saying, ‘because Thomas kept asking awkward questions. He had no real evidence, but he knew Thomas’s death was not your fault.’

‘But why did Jodoca kill Carton?’ asked Podiolo. ‘Spynk and Fencotes, I understand, because they were competing for the house, driving up the cost between them. But Carton was not going to buy it.’

‘No, but he took messages back and forth,’ replied Fencotes. His voice was weaker now. ‘And he wanted it to go to a convent, not a layman. He was going to persuade Langelee to sell it to us.’

Norton looked at the old man. ‘Now there is only one question left. How did you know about Danyell’s treasure? Did he confide in you, too?’

Fencotes sighed, a whisper deep in his chest. He did not have many moments left, so Bartholomew answered for him. ‘Fencotes came late to the monastic life, and before taking his vows, he lived in Norfolk. Danyell came from Norfolk, too.’

‘He was kin,’ breathed Fencotes, barely audible. ‘He came to me when he thought the Bishop’s men might steal his treasure. I told him Margery Sewale’s house was empty.’

‘He hid it well,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Osbern and Brownsley have been hunting for days with no success, and he has even foiled Cynric.’

Fencotes gave the ghost of a smile. ‘That is why we must buy the house, because it may take weeks to find. Masons know how to build decent hiding places.’

‘You looked, though,’ said Bartholomew, thinking of another small fact that had not made sense at the time. ‘I treated you for injuries that were inconsistent with the fall you claimed to have had. You went to Sewale Cottage, to see if you could uncover it for yourself.’

‘You are a clever lad,’ breathed Fencotes, closing his eyes. ‘I felt the hoard was slipping away, and wanted to see if I could find what others could not. But Danyell was too good, even for his old uncle.’

Bartholomew left the canons to give Fencotes last rites, and went outside. There was a breeze for the first time in weeks, but it was hot and stale, like something blown in from a desert. It made everything feel old and dry, and in the distance he thought he heard thunder. Was a storm on the way? Would it break the heatwave and usher in cooler weather? It was not long before Norton and Podiolo came to join him. The Florentine had drawn his sword again, and did not seem inclined to give it up.

‘Will you tell Langelee our offer for Sewale Cottage is now twenty marks?’ asked Norton. ‘I know Arblaster offered twenty, too, but you will not want his money, not after what Jodoca did to Carton.’

‘He probably does not have it, anyway,’ said Bartholomew. ‘Not if he is ruined.’

‘He has it,’ said Podiolo. ‘I saw him counting it last night when I went for a walk. But that is the full extent of it. I heard him say so to Jodoca.’

Peering through other people’s windows in the dark was odd behaviour for a monastic, but Bartholomew was too tired to think about it. He collected his horse and started to ride home. He was vaguely aware of someone on the Causeway ahead of him, but the sun was in his eyes and he could not see clearly. By the time he realised it was Jodoca, it was too late to do anything about it. She was on a sturdy white pony, and there were saddlebags behind her.

‘There you are,’ she said, reining in. ‘I understand you had a talk with my husband.’

Bartholomew was not sure whether to ride away from her as fast as his horse would carry him, attempt to make her his prisoner, or simply talk. He decided he should arrest her, but was obliged to revise his plans when he realised he had lost his dagger – he supposed he had dropped it during the scuffle with Arblaster. Jodoca, however, did have a knife, and she looked as though she was ready to lob it. And at such short range, she could not miss. Even so, he started to rummage in his bag for one of the several surgical implements that could double as a weapon.

‘Raise your hands where I can see them,’ she ordered immediately, seeing what he was doing. Her pretty face was cool and determined, and he reminded himself that here was a woman who had already taken three lives. ‘Make no mistake, Doctor, I will kill you if you do not obey me.’

Reluctantly, he did as he was told. She edged her pony closer to him, cutting off his chances of escape with every step. The Causeway was too narrow for him to pass her, and the time it would take to turn his horse around would see a blade in his back for certain. He wished he had paid attention to the road, instead of reviewing the mysteries he had just solved.

‘I want the answer to one question,’ said Jodoca, when she was sure she had him in a position where he posed no danger. ‘Tell me the truth, and I will let you go.’

He did not believe her. ‘You want to know if you succeeded in killing Fencotes?’

She grimaced. ‘What I actually wanted to know was whether the canons had recognised me – whether it is really necessary to leave Cambridge. Your reply implies that they did, and that it is.’

‘They know you murdered Spynk and Carton, too. Stabbing me will not make your secret safe.’

‘So my best option remains flight. Still, I managed to remove a few items of value from the canons’ chapels when they were preoccupied with Fencotes. Those silly men are easily diverted.’

Bartholomew regarded her askance, amazed she should be so casual. ‘Does it mean nothing that you have murdered three men?’

She gave the question some serious consideration. ‘I just wish I had done it sooner, before Spynk and Fencotes started to drive up the price of Sewale Cottage. If I had, it would have been mine by now. I thought Michaelhouse would refuse to treat with Barnwell after one of your scholars was killed in its grounds, but I underestimated the power of greed.’