Bartholomew hoped no one would ask. He had no wish to conduct more exhumations.
'And Froissart and Nicholas?'
Gilbert nodded. 'Marius Froissart came barging into my house when I was removing my beard. It was obvious from his face he knew who I was. He fled to the church.
I followed and told him I would kill his family unless he kept silent. I killed his wife, put about Froissart had murdered her, and killed him later that night. Nicholas was easier. He came to look atjanetta's body in the crypt, and I killed him there.'
'And why did you kill Frances?' Bartholomew asked.
'Frances?' whispered de Belem, the colour fleeing from his face.
'She knew too much,' said Gilbert. 'She was on her way to reveal all when I killed her.'
'You killed Frances?' whispered de Belem. 'My daughter?'
'Yes!' said Gilbert loudly. "I killed her. I did it for the sake of the saffron. Believe me, Reginald, once that fox-faced friar knew about it, it would not have been a secret for long, and we would have lost everything.'
'How could you?' whispered de Belem. 'Why did you not tell me what she was doing? I could have spoken with her. She loved me!'
'Like Isobel?' asked Michael casually.
'Did you kill her too?' asked de Belem, his face grey.
"I did not,' said Gilbert. 'Although doubtless I will be accused of it. I did not touch the whores.'
'But you have already told us you killed Janetta and Frances!' said Stanmore.
Gilbert raised his manacled hands. 'But I did not kill the others. Perhaps de Belem did. It was he, who as high priest, called for another murder. How would he know if he were not the killer?'
De Belem looked away. 'Not I,' he said.
'Rubbish!' said Michael. 'Gilbert deliberately started the rumours that Froissart was the killer because the killer was him! He confessed to killing Frances, and she, like the others, had a circle on her foot.' "I saw that mark on the others,' said Gilbert. "I copied it. It was the high priest who killed the others.'
De Belem eyed him coldly. 'What anyone thinks matters nothing now that I know my daughter's murderer will hang.' He gave a soft laugh. "I really thought it was the Guild of the Holy Trinity punishing me for my involvement with the covens. I did not imagine it would be a colleague! The reason I predicted another death was because it is time. Excluding Janetta, whom Gilbert killed, there has been a murder every ten days or so. The ten days since Isobel are almost up.'
'It does not matter which of you is the killer, you will both hang,' said Tulyet impatiently, and called to his men to start the journey back to the town. It was light, and time spent talking now was time wasted.
Bartholomew and Michael watched them go. 'Do you believe him?' asked Bartholomew.
Michael shook his head. "I do not. De Belem is merely trying to confuse us. He lied to us in the garden of the Brazen George, so why should he not lie to us again? And Gilbert has confessed to killing Janetta and Frances. We know why the friar died and how; we have discovered who killed Froissart and Nicholas; and we have rescued Buckley. We have done all that de Wetherset has asked of us.' He rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'It is over for us, Matt.'
'You are wrong, Brother,' said Bartholomew softly.
'This business is not over yet.'
13
Stanmore insisted that Bartholomew and Michael stop at Trumpington for breakfast.
Tulyet and his men, aided by Stanmore's new recruits, rode on to Cambridge. Tulyet had a busy day ahead of him. He would need to interview all his prisoners, round up any others who were implicated, and begin the documentation of the case. As they parted, Tulyet made arrangements to call at Michaelhouse later to go over the details once more. Cynric wanted to see Rachel Atkin to let her know he was safe, and said he would take word to de Wetherset.
'Shall I tell him that his clerk spent his spare time as a woman?' Cynric asked guilelessly.
'Not unless you want to spend the rest of the day in the custody of the Proctors,' said Bartholomew mildly. Cynric grinned and sped off after Tulyet's cavalcade.
Michael leaned back in one of Stanmore's best chairs and stretched his feet towards the fire Edith was stoking up. Stanmore sat opposite him, sipping some wine. Michael's habit was still splashed with the paint Bartholomew had flicked at him the night before.
Bartholomew wondered who would dye it now de Belem was gone.
They discussed details of the night's work. Edith sniffed dismissively when they told her how Gilbert had disguised himself, and claimed a woman would have been able to tell the difference.
'You are probably right,' said Bartholomew. 'Once I knew, it was very obvious. His walk was masculine and his cheeks were sometimes thickly coated in powders.'
'That would be to hide his whiskers,' said Edith. 'He would need to shave constantly, even though his beard was not adequate to hide the scars on his face.'
'No wonder Janetta was difficult to track down,' said Michael. 'And Gilbert fooled Tulyet, too. He went to interview "Janetta" when Froissart first claimed sanctuary, and she even told him she had witnessed the murder she had committed herself!'
'And then she denied ever meeting Tulyet to add to our growing concerns over Tulyet's involvement,' said Bartholomew. He thought for a moment, staring pensively at the wine in his cup. 'But I am still concerned about their claim that they did not kill the other women.'
'They are lying to confuse us,' said Stanmore. 'It was them. Gilbert confessed to killing Janetta and Frances.
How much more evidence do you need? Think about Sybilla's description, Frances's last words, and the circles on their feet'
'Sybilla gave no kind of description at all,' said Bartholomew impatiently. 'It could fit just about anyone.
And, as you pointed out, they will hang anyway, so why bother to lie?'
Because they have spent the last several months doing little else,' said Stanmore. 'They have perpetrated the most frightful fraud, terrifying people with false witchcraft, and pretending to be those they are not.
Their whole lives have been a lie.' He reached for the jug of wine. 'It is over. We should look to the future, and I must decide whether I should employ a dyer until another comes to take de Belem's place.'
'What will you do with your private army?' asked Michael, beginning to laugh.
Stanmore regarded him coolly. "I do not see why you find that prospect amusing,' he said. 'If there had been men like these with us tonight, we would not have been ambushed. We live in dangerous times, Brother. These men will guard my goods, and I will be able to trade much further afield.' He rubbed his hands. 'Ely is lacking in good drapers.'
Michael rubbed his eyes. "I will have nightmares about this for weeks,' he said. "I hate to confess this to you, Matt, but when I saw that shadow figure and heard that awful screech, I thought de Belem really had conjured something from hell. It was something to do with the atmosphere of that place, with the chanting and the torchlight. I can understand how de Belem was able to use people's imaginations to increase their fear.'
Bartholomew stretched, feeling his muscles stiffening from his unaccustomed ride. "I did not imagine de Belem would give it a second glance, but I was desperate. I certainly did not think you would be fooled by it, especially in view of the fright you gave me last week.'
'But mine was only a goat!' said Michael, his eyes round. 'Lord knows what yours was meant to be, but it looked like a demon from hell! It was horrible: all gnarled and twisted!'