‘A useless and futile death,’ Athelstan said. ‘A poor, witless innocent.’
Vamier dropped his gaze.
‘Didn’t you care?’ Gresnay burst out. ‘Pierre.’ He spoke quickly in French but Athelstan could follow him. ‘They were our friends. We fought back to back against a common foe. Aye, we burned and we pillaged, but murder like this? Of your own friends and companions?’
‘Mercurius’ real work,’ Athelstan went on, ‘was here at Hawkmere and it was quite easily done.’ He pointed at the French envoy. ‘You met Vamier and handed over the poisonous Ave beads. You convinced him how they were only noxious to chew. Vamier had no choice but to accept. After all, he wanted to return to France as quickly as possible.
‘Serriem was the first to die. He’d be easy to persuade, especially after he had seen you swallow the seeds and suffer no ill effects. How did you describe them?’ Athelstan asked. ‘As a herb which would help? And was it the same for Routier? He would be the most gullible victim. He would need his strength, be ready to take any medication which might help his escape. Again, you showed him the seeds were not noxious, probably just before he climbed that wall and made his escape. Both men, even in their dying agonies, would never suspect the seeds were the cause of their deaths. Not from a friend who had eaten them himself and suffered no ill effects.’
‘That’s true, Vamier!’ Gresnay’s voice rose to a scream. ‘You always were persuasive, a senior officer whose hatred of the Goddamns was well known.’ He beat on the table. ‘You were playing chess with Serriem the night he died! That poor bastard would take anything you offered, as would Routier!’ Gresnay blinked back the angry tears. ‘He trusted you completely. He was worried that he might not have the physical strength to make his escape. I offered him some food. You gave the poor fool those damn seeds. What did you do? Swear him, and poor Serriem, to secrecy? Tell them how you didn’t have enough to share among the rest? I suppose,’ he added bitterly, ‘I was next.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Athelstan said. ‘I suspect de Fontanel would offer to pay for your and Vamier’s ransom from his own pocket, or take a loan from the merchants in the city. He would act all concerned. However.’ Athelstan shrugged. ‘Monsieur Gresnay, I do not think you would have survived long in France.’
‘And Maneil?’ Gresnay asked.
‘Ah. Mercurius, or Monsieur de Fontanel, was very clever. Two men had died from poisoning but the death of Limbright’s daughter, well, it muddied the pool a little. You see Mercurius wanted the blame for all these deaths to be laid firmly on the doorstep of the Goddamns. None of the prisoners were armed so, when Mercurius last visited Hawkmere, he probably came armed with a small arbalest for his own protection. However, in the confusion following Routier’s escape, Mercurius decided to seize his opportunity. The arbalest and the bolts were hidden away. Vamier was told of their whereabouts, behind a chair, a bench or even a latrine. He was allowed to mix with you?’
‘Yes,’ Gresnay snarled. ‘And he had a word with each of us.’
‘That’s true.’ Sir Maurice spoke up. ‘The manor was in uproar.’
‘Mercurius simply exploited the opportunity,’ Sir John added. ‘Limbright was mourning for his daughter. The guards were still recovering from the hunt for Routier. Mercurius realised that death by a crossbow bolt would simply confirm suspicion that the assassin could not possibly be one of the prisoners.’
‘Is that possible?’ Aspinall asked. ‘I mean, to dispose of?’
‘There are privies here, aren’t there?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Yes, yes there are, along the top gallery where Maneil had his chamber.’
‘The arbalest would be small,’ Athelstan explained. ‘Like one ladies use when they go hunting. How long would it take Mercurius to tell Vamier that an arbalest was hidden in a certain place, a few seconds? Vamier acted quickly, exploiting the chaos: he collected the arbalest, concealed it beneath his doublet, knocked on Maneil’s door and killed him. He then dismantled the crossbow and probably threw it down a privy where it would sink in the mud and ordure, never to be found.’
‘You still have no real evidence,’ de Fontanel screamed.
‘Oh, we have evidence,’ Athelstan replied. ‘As well as the sheer logic of my conclusion. I began to suspect there were two killers. One inside and one out. First, let’s take Routier’s escape. Why did he choose that particular way? How did he know the shutters of the window in that outhouse weren’t locked? The prisoners were never allowed to go there, so the information must have been given by someone visiting the manor. Secondly, Mercurius, on your last visit, you said something intriguing just before you left Hawkmere. You came here and sat beside Vamier. You told the prisoners to fall to their prayers. I recalled the gift of Ave beads and wondered if your words were a code, a secret message.’
De Fontanel got to his feet. ‘I am an envoy of the French court,’ he said. I know nothing of this Mercurius. I certainly have no responsibility for the terrible deaths which have occurred here or elsewhere.’ He swallowed hard, glancing at the door. ‘I have hardly left my lodgings! Why should I wander around Whitefriars?’
‘Who told you Vulpina lived there?’ Sir John jibed. ‘You went there disguised as a priest; that was a mistake, strangers never visit Whitefriars.’
‘And, as for your lodgings,’ Gervase smiled, ‘one of your retinue could act the part, especially with that ridiculous popinjay hat you wear. How did you leave there, disguised as a servant? Our intelligence is that Mercurius is a master of disguise.’
‘My movements are my own concern! As are my conversations with my countrymen!’
‘I saw you whispering,’ Gresnay declared, hot-eyed. ‘I saw you, Monsieur, talking to Vamier here on a number of occasions before the murders began!’
‘Monsieur Gresnay, remember where you are,’ de Fontanel snarled. ‘You are a prisoner of the English but one day you must return to France.’
Gaunt stared at Athelstan: from the Regent’s look, the friar realised that more proof would have to be given. He nodded slowly.
‘We have all the evidence we need,’ he said. ‘It’s here in this hall, so sit down, Monsieur de Fontanel!’
‘What evidence?’ The envoy looked shaken, nervous.
‘First, we will search for Monsieur Vamier’s Ave beads and we will find them. We know you gave them to him! Secondly, Monsieur Gresnay here is going to rack his brains, and he will start recalling the minutiae, helpful little details.’
‘And?’ de Fontanel asked.
‘We have Monsieur Vamier. If we can prove, and we will, that his Ave beads are highly poisonous Abrin seeds then Vamier is a murderer. Be he French or English, my Lord of Gaunt will have him taken to the dungeons in the Tower where the interrogators will begin to work. Oh, they’ll piece the story together like I did. You don’t know Godbless, do you? He’s a poor beggar who lives in my cemetery; once he was a soldier and visited Venice. He talked of a man who should die but didn’t. And then I visited a Venetian galley berthed in the Thames. The captain was a merry fellow. Of course he knew about the Abrin seed, how the Council of Ten gave it to their criminals. He simply confirmed what I had learned from our librarian in Blackfriars as well as the gossip of little Godbless. A short while later I visited an apothecary near Cheapside. He confessed it was one of the secrets of his trade; he told me all about Abrin’s noxious properties.’ Athelstan ticked the points off on his fingers. ‘Venice, you have been there. Abrin seeds were on the Ave beads you gave to Vamier, he still has these.’ Athelstan gazed straight at Sir Maurice. And, finally, one of those assassins, the shaven-heads you sent against us? He didn’t die. He’s lodged in the Tower. I suspect he will recognise you and your voice. It’s wonderful what a man will do to escape the noose.’
‘Both men are dead,’ de Fontanel insisted. He closed his eyes at his terrible mistake.
‘How do you know that?’ Gaunt asked, getting up. He grasped de Fontanel by the shoulder. ‘How do you know, Monsieur, about assassins who attacked a poor priest in Southwark?’