‘You are wrong,’ she said. ‘About everything. I loved Vitalis and I loved Edith. And, anyway, Edith was killed when I was with Roger — with whom I spent the night.’
‘Oh, God!’ whispered Ulfrith shakily.
‘Yes — we were here, in the church,’ said Roger, more to the listening monks than Ulfrith. ‘So you must be wrong, Geoff. She could not have killed Edith. I still think it was Lucian.’
‘Lucian was in the Lady Chapel from vespers until prime,’ said Aelfwig, although he regarded his fellow monk with deep distaste. ‘And a dozen brothers will tell you the same. We were praying that Belleme will not invade England, and he was asking God to send him some money.’
But Geoffrey now knew the truth. He continued to address Philippa. ‘Edith was strangled before you sought out Roger’s company. You used him because you knew you might need an alibi.’
‘She was alive when I left, and dead when I returned,’ said Philippa coldly. ‘And you cannot prove otherwise. It is dreadful of you to say these things when I am alone and unprotected.’
She shot a rueful glance at Lucian and drew the cloak more closely around her shoulders. As she did so, one of its pleats opened and revealed the lining underneath. The material was scarlet, but there was a corner that had been ripped away. Geoffrey stepped forward to inspect it, recalling what he had seen in Edith’s dead hand. Philippa shoved him away with considerable force and stalked out with her head held high, defiance in her every move.
‘Was that ripped when she killed Edith?’ asked Roger uneasily.
‘I imagine there was an argument between them,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘And the ribbon was to hand. It is not difficult for one woman to throttle another, if her blood is up. Then she was cunning enough to slip out and secure herself an alibi.’
‘Unfortunately, throttling Edith did nothing to affect Philippa’s situation one way or the other,’ said Lucian. ‘I read Vitalis’s will today. He bequeathed everything to sons from an earlier marriage, and Edith was to have a paltry pension until her next marriage. Philippa was not even mentioned.’
‘He is right,’ added Aelfwig. ‘She brought me the will when she first arrived, and wept bitterly when I read it to her. She snatched it back, and I assumed she intended to destroy it, perhaps with a view to composing one that was more congenial to her.’
‘Yet you did nothing to stop her?’ asked Lucian. ‘And you criticize my behaviour! Hypocrite!’
‘She is a poor Saxon lass,’ flared Aelfwig. ‘Abused by greedy Normans. Of course I kept quiet about the will in the hope that it would give her a chance to redress the injustice of her situation. I did not think she would stoop to murder. .’
‘Philippa is not Saxon,’ sneered Lucian. ‘She said she was kin to my Bihop, John de Villula — and he is as Norman as they come. She said an alliance with her would earn me untold favour in ecclesiastical courts.’
‘And you believed her?’ demanded Aelfwig archly. ‘When she is so patently poor?’
‘I am unused to liars,’ replied Lucian stiffly. ‘So yes, I believed her — until a few moments ago, when she slipped up with some insignificant fact. I might have overlooked it, had she not then promptly tried to distract me from it by screeching that the squire had assaulted her.’
‘And I never touched her,’ whispered Ulfrith, still shocked.
‘It seems we all underestimated her,’ said Geoffrey quietly. ‘She is far cleverer than we thought.’
‘What a merry dance she has led us all!’ muttered Roger, half disapproving and half admiring. He addressed Geoffrey. ‘So, is that it? Philippa killed Edith? Did she dispatch Vitalis, too?’
Geoffrey shook his head. ‘She had far too much to lose. Edith did not kill him, either, because Philippa would have stopped her.’
‘So what happens now?’ asked Roger. ‘Will she hang? It is a pity — she is a pretty wench.’
‘Not on the evidence we have,’ said Geoffrey. He lowered his voice. ‘However, I would recommend you keep Ulfrith away from her. She is bitter and vengeful, and I would not like to think of her striking at us through him.’
Thirteen
‘I shall never understand monks,’ said Roger as he packed up his salvaged possessions later that day. Ulfrith sat in the window looking miserable, while Bale sharpened his knives, humming under his breath. Geoffrey sat on the edge of the bed and took sips from Ulfrith’s water flask. Nearby, Aelfwig was folding blankets. ‘They let themselves be deceived by a pretty face.’
So, too, had Roger, by allowing Philippa to use him as her alibi, but Geoffrey said nothing.
‘Monastics are a strange breed,’ agreed Bale. ‘These notions of not bearing arms and living in peace are not normal. And Lucian is a monk, because he did not slaughter anyone after all — Philippa strangled Edith, and the shepherd’s death was an accident.’
It was peculiar logic, but Geoffrey did not feel inclined to take issue with him.
‘So Juhel must have murdered Paisnel and probably Vitalis, too,’ mused Roger. ‘Which means that all the murders are solved, but not one culprit will pay the price. Juhel will slip away and may well kill again, and Philippa will find herself a rich husband.’
‘You are wrong,’ said Ulfrith from the window, although his voice lacked conviction. ‘She is too beautiful to be a murderess.’
Aelfwig clicked his tongue admonishingly. ‘You had a lucky escape, my boy. If I had known the love potion you charged me to make was to be used on her, I would never have sold it to you.’
‘What love potion?’ asked Roger.
‘I needed help,’ said Ulfrith, unrepentant. ‘Nothing else was working, but now I see why. She was intent on having Lucian because she thought he was rich. And I am not.’
Geoffrey was about to take another gulp of water but paused with the flask in mid-air. ‘Is that what I have been drinking these past few days? Well, I suppose it explains your odd questions after you rescued me from Fingar — whether I felt the urge to lie with Philippa. You were afraid you had invested in a charm and I had reaped the benefits.’
‘It did not work for either of us,’ said Ulfrith mournfully.
Geoffrey rubbed his chin. ‘But there was an odd taste to the water before we met Aelfwig — after the fight at Werlinges, when you urged me to drink it. Magnus also wanted some, but you were reluctant to let him have it. Shortly afterwards, we were both plagued with odd visions. What was in it? A potion of your own that would make me repellent to her?’
Ulfrith’s guilty expression indicated Geoffrey was guessing along the right lines. ‘You were not supposed to keep drinking it, but I could not stop you.’
Roger looked more dangerous than Geoffrey had ever seen him. He advanced on Ulfrith with a gleam in his eye that was distinctly unnerving.
‘You poisoned Geoffrey? You fed him something you knew would make him ill? And then, when he was laid low, you gave him more?’
‘No!’ cried Ulfrith, leaping to his feet and backing away. ‘It was not like that! My grandmother used to swallow the stuff when she wanted to see into the future. It used to make her jabber nonsense, but she was never ill. All I wanted was for Sir Geoffrey to be unappealing to Lady Philippa, so she might spare a glance for me.’
Roger regarded him furiously. ‘But your grandmother probably drank it all her life, and you fed it to Geoff without knowing what might happen. She was a woman, and he is a man. They are different!’
Geoffrey was unable to prevent a smile. ‘But no harm was done.’
Roger rounded on him. ‘No harm? You would not say that if you could have seen yourself. Aelfwig told me you would not live the night, and I spent a lot of gold making you well again — buying prayers, paying for Breme’s charm, making donations to the abbey. He almost killed you!’