‘So I did,’ Josselin nodded. ‘Which is why you had him killed.’
‘Precisely.’ Arlington nodded back. ‘But how did I find out?’
‘You have spies,’ Josselin replied, his voice betraying new uncertainty.
‘Indeed I do,’ Arlington agreed, ‘and many of them, but none have yet learnt how to read a man’s mind.’
Josselin breathed deep and slow, eyes fixed upon the black plaster across the ridge of Arlington’s nose.
Arlington leant forward as if afraid of eavesdroppers. ‘Berkshire told me what you did and why you did it. He said you were a traitor.’
‘Not true,’ said Josselin, though his eyes watered.
‘True enough,’ said Arlington, sadly. ‘It hurt him to tell me of it, but he saw it as his duty. His duty to the King.’
Josselin shook his head.
Arlington shrugged, like he was an innocent player in this fine drama. ‘He called you traitor, Josselin, and wanted me to punish you.’
Josselin stamped his foot. ‘He would never have betrayed me to you, foul dog. You discovered it then you killed him.’
‘Of course I killed him,’ snapped Arlington, as if it was obvious. ‘The existence of that letter is a state secret. No man may know of it, and Berkshire was a weakling. I sensed he would regret his betrayal and confess all to you.’ He waved an arm. ‘Rather, Withypoll did.’
‘With my sword,’ Josselin hissed. ‘What sort of cowardly act was that?’
‘Whether an act be cowardly or not doesn’t depend on whose weapon you use,’ Arlington replied. ‘He had to die, and the opportunity to blacken your name at the same time proved irresistible.’
The fire inside Josselin’s belly seemed to fade before the heat of the inferno in which we stood. The walls exploded inwards, great cracks like cannonballs firing through the air as molten lead poured down the brick. Josselin’s shoulders drooped. Withypoll saw his chance, grabbed Arlington’s sword and propelled himself at Josselin, the tip of the blade aimed at his neck. Josselin squinted, then blinked, afore
lifting his weapon at the last minute, parrying the blow.
I stood helpless, keen to intervene, but lacking the means. Withypoll regained his balance the quicker and thrust his blade once more at Josselin’s chest. Josselin danced backwards and seemed to trip over his own feet, stumbling sideways. He landed on one arm and struggled to regain his balance, but his arm stuck, tangled in his coat. Withypoll sighed, face rapt with joyous anticipation as he lifted his sword. I held my breath and the world stood still. Josselin somehow managed to twist his body and kick out at Withypoll’s knee, sending him staggering over Josselin’s outstretched leg. As Withypoll fell to the ground I saw a flash of steel as Josselin finally succeeded in freeing his trapped arm. Withypoll’s legs gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees, head bowed, hands clutching at a small spot of blood spreading from his hip. Josselin extricated himself from beneath Withypoll’s prone body and clambered to his feet, sword hung loose from his right hand, short dagger in his left.
Withypoll didn’t move. As Josselin stood gasping in great lungs of air, I seized his dagger and knelt down at Withypoll’s side, suspecting trickery. He lay with the right side of his face upon the flagstones, eyes open, body unmoving. His sword lay where it fell, well out of reach.
I touched the dagger against his cheek. ‘Are you dead?’ I whispered into his ear.
He mumbled something I couldn’t hear. I leant down closer to his mouth, holding the dagger firmly. His eye moved, focussing upon the end of my nose. His lips moved, and a froth of red blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He tried to speak again but failed, then he stopped breathing and his eye dulled. A knot unwound itself deep within my belly and I felt a surge of immeasurable happiness. Then his hand jerked up and seized my wrist. I threw myself to one side, heart pounding.
Josselin roared loud, leapt forward to retrieve his knife and plunged it into Withypoll’s belly, twisting it until Withypoll lay finally still.
Josselin straightened and turned to Arlington, holding up his blood-smeared palm. ‘Well, then. The killer is dead, but not the villain. Will you take back your sword or shall I cut you down where you stand?’
Arlington spread his palms and blew out his cheeks. ‘I will take my sword, if you be so generous.’
‘We don’t have time,’ I shouted to Josselin. ‘We have to leave, else we shall all die.’
Fire covered every wall as well as the roof, eating steadily through the dry Yorkshire timber. It was only the immense size of the cathedral that meant we could still breathe, but not for much longer. Lead dripped from the ceiling in lethal red globules, splashing onto the floor and smashing the stone.
‘Come on, Josselin,’ I urged, but he ignored me, stood with legs crouched, ready to do battle with Arlington.
‘Your letter,’ I whispered into Josselin’s ear. ‘It will be lost.’
‘Go to the Bishop’s residence,’ he whispered so Arlington couldn’t hear. ‘Go to his office and look amongst his papers.’
My heart sank even further down my bowels. ‘The Bishop of London is involved?’
Arlington cocked his head, trying to listen.
‘No,’ replied Josselin. ‘The Bishop is old and blind, yet he allows no others access to his private correspondence. It was a perfect place to hide the letter. Look for the royal seal.’
Arlington stepped forward, glancing at the ceiling. Josselin scuttled like a great spider, holding his sword in front of him with both hands.
‘We haven’t long, Josselin,’ Arlington warned, placing one hand behind his back.
‘A curse to he who will not obey the Lord’s commandments,’ Josselin replied, face contorted in hatred.
‘Aye, well may God turn your curse into a blessing.’ Arlington caught my eye and pointed at Dowling. ‘Your choice, gentlemen,’ he called. ‘If you stand aside, it’s treachery.’
‘I saved you last time,’ I retorted. ‘Little good it did me.’
‘I humbly beg your forgiveness,’ said Arlington, eyes fixed upon Josselin’s swaying torso. ‘Accept my regrets, and I assure you it will not happen again.’
Josselin lifted his sword and brought it down in a chopping motion towards the older man’s neck. Arlington swivelled on his toes, avoiding the blade. He stepped aside to give himself room before lunging at Josselin’s chest, but Josselin threw himself out of the way.
I watched aghast, uncertain what to do. The fire burnt so loud I couldn’t hear their grunts, nor even the sound of their swords clashing. Dowling grabbed my hair in his fist and shouted in my ear for us to depart, but I was loath to leave Josselin to Arlington’s mercy.
Josselin lunged once more at Arlington, but tripped before he could connect. Arlington opened his mouth wide then brought his blade down heavily across Josselin’s back. Josselin tried to lift himself upon his knees, but failed, crouched afront of Arlington like an old horse, head bowed.
Arlington bared his teeth in cruel satisfaction afore adjusting his breeches and raising his sword two-handed for the final blow. Just as he prepared to swing the sword I picked up a fallen piece of masonry and threw it at his head. He let his sword fall clattering to the floor, and staggered like a drunk, squinting through the smoke as if to see what hit him. My hand burnt, for the rock had smouldered beneath a thin coating of lead. He turned to face me, blood pouring down the
right side of his head, arms dangling loose at his sides. His mouth opened and his knees buckled, and he fell face forwards onto the stone floor.
I dashed forwards to where Josselin lay prone. I rolled him onto his back and Dowling lifted his head. A thin layer of soot coated his long nose and gathered among his eyelashes. His eyes dulled, yet looked upon us with peaceful tranquillity. He appeared sane at last. A thin line of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. I shook him gently, but his eyes closed.
‘I thought he loved me,’ he whispered.