‘You killed Leger,’ said Geoffrey dully, not letting himself think about Roger. ‘But not because you told him the location of the sky-stone, since that was a fabrication — it was here all along. You told him a deeper, more terrible secret. And he was appalled and at a loss about what to do, and that wa s why he asked for time to consider the matter. You do not trust anyone, and you thought he was going to betray you.’
‘He did betray me,’ said Ivar bitterly. He barely glanced at Geoffrey, busy with something over his fire. ‘He wrote down what I said about the sky-stone, for anyone to read. And when he left the priory after we had talked, it occurred to me that he might be the spy — that he was running off to tell Walter de Clare all the things I had confided to him.’
‘He was not the spy,’ said Geoffrey, trying again to stand and failing. Another roar of thunder shook the cliffs. ‘He was innocent of everything except befriending a monster.’
‘I should have kept him at a distance,’ spat Ivar, ‘as I have everyone else since I arrived in this godforsaken land. But I had one moment of weakness and confessed that… But that is none of your affair. I realized immediately that I had made a mistake, so I hastened to confuse him by making up a tale about the sky-stone. Then he rushed off, saying he needed time to “reflect”. You cannot blame me for killing him when his behaviour was so suspicious. Why did he want time to reflect?’
‘Because he thought the matter you had entrusted to him was important,’ explained Geoffrey tiredly. ‘He wanted to pray — not in the priory, but alone. But you, who only pretends to hear God, cannot understand that. You tried to stab and poison him when he returned.’
‘I wish I had succeeded,’ muttered Ivar venomously.
‘He did not share your secret with anyone,’ Geoffrey went on. ‘And that means no one was trying to kill him for it. So he knew you were the one trying to take his life. He stayed in the church, thinking that holy ground would stay your hand. He was wrong.’
‘He was a pious fool,’ said Ivar dismissively. He raised his hands again, and almost immediately there was a flicker of lightning outside that seared into Geoffrey’s eyes and forced him to look away. The following thunder was deafening. ‘No one will miss him.’
‘My wife will,’ said Geoffrey. He tried to see what Ivar was doing, but the man’s hands were a blur of practised movements: whatever it was, he had done it before. He changed the subject when he saw that Ivar was not listening, hoping to win time and summon enough strength to prevent whatever diabolical mischief he was creating. ‘You killed Marcus, too.’
‘Your friend said he was the spy,’ said Ivar with a careless shrug, as if the death of a man was nothing. ‘Marcus had no right to take priory business to the evil Walter de Clare.’
‘Walter is evil?’ muttered Geoffrey, taken aback. ‘You are the one summoning the devil.’
‘My evil is pure,’ declared Ivar. ‘His is born of malice.’
Such warped logic was beyond Geoffrey’s understanding. ‘You killed Roger,’ he said as anger gave him the strength to stagger to his feet. ‘There was no need to harm him.’
Ivar barely glanced at him. ‘Was there not? He was a greedy man, who would have stolen my stone without a moment’s hesitation. Him and Revelle. But I will show you all what happens to men who cross me.’
‘What are you doing?’ asked Geoffrey uneasily as Ivar tossed more powder on the fire, which burned blue. Outside, the storm continued to rage; the rain was a white veil across the entrance.
Ivar stopped his conjuring to grin. ‘I am avenging myself on all those who mean to steal from me. Do not come any closer, or you will not live to witness it — and I promise it will be impressive. I feel Satan strong within me today.’
Geoffrey again tried to distract him. ‘You probably searched Leger’s belongings, hunting for evidence that he betrayed you.’ He took a step forward, supporting himself on the wall. ‘But you cannot read, so you have no idea what he wrote in-’
Ivar rounded on him. ‘Enough about Leger. I am tired of Leger!’
‘Then let us talk about Ivar Jorundsson instead,’ said Geoffrey, fighting off the dizziness that was beginning to claw at the edges of his vision. The ache in his arm had spread to his whole body, and he knew he would not be able to stay upright for long. ‘You killed him, too.’
Ivar gaped at him. ‘So Leger did betray my secret!’
‘No. It was revealed in a letter that was sent to Drogo de Hauteville five years ago. Bishop Giffard must have taken it after Drogo’s death, then sent it to Revelle. Its sender talked about a killer hunting him in darkness, and a mind lost to evil. The writer was Ivar Jorundsson, and he was referring to you.’
‘How do you know?’ demanded Ivar. He was not fiddling with his potions now, and all his attention was focused on Geoffrey.
‘Because it was penned by a non-native speaker of English, and because it had a drawing of the sky-stone. Clearly, the real Ivar sent it, warning Drogo about you — the man who would kill him, steal his stone and use it for selfish purposes. Moreover, Ivar Jorundsson left Greenland to become a monk, which means he was devout and almost certainly literate. You are neither.’
‘Is that the sum of the “evidence” you have?’ sneered Ivar.
‘No,’ said Geoffrey, leaning more heavily against the wall when he felt himself reel. ‘It was obvious from your own story that you were the “other survivor” of the fall of Deheubarth. You probably craved the sky-stone for years, even before the shipwreck, but it was not until you witnessed the slaughter near Civetot seven years ago that your mind turned totally to getting it. And as the last piece of evidence, there is that.’
He pointed to an alcove behind Ivar, whose eyes grew wide with horror when he saw the skeleton that was huddled there. It had been buried, but the explosion that had killed Roger and Revelle had loosened the earth around it, exposing it for all to see.
‘And you probably murdered Drogo,’ Geoffrey went on when Ivar turned back to his fire and began to chant with renewed fervour. Outside, the storm reached new heights of fury, so it felt as if the whole cliff-face was shuddering under its impact. The knight took another step forward.
‘Drogo had met Jorundsson,’ said Ivar. ‘He had to die if I was to assume Jorundsson’s identity, and I am glad he fell over the cliff.’
Geoffrey lunged at him. The madman punched him, using the hand that held the stone. Geoffrey felt a blinding pain in his temple, and then a curious floating sensation. Lights exploded behind his eyes, and he was not sure if it was his imagination or more lightning. Ivar was poised to hit him again, but Geoffrey grabbed his wrist, wrenched the stone away and, after stumbling a few steps, threw it as hard as he could out of the cave’s entrance.
‘No!’ howled Ivar, haring after it.
Geoffrey supposed he should not let him escape. He staggered to the entrance, and winced when there was a terrible scream, followed by the kind of crashing that suggested someone cartwheeling down the tree-studded slope.
‘Geoff!’ exclaimed Roger, appearing suddenly in front of him. ‘I am sorry to abandon you with that villain. I was coming back for you, but that thunderbolt hit and knocked me out of my wits.’
‘Where is Revelle?’ asked Geoffrey. He found he was able to stand unaided.
Roger’s expression darkened, and he looked away. ‘The thunderbolt must have blown him to pieces. And then Ivar went over the cliff — he just tore out of the cave and plunged straight over, trying to catch the sky-stone.’
Geoffrey stood straighter. ‘Did he succeed?’
Roger shook his head. ‘And I am afraid there is no point hunting for the stone, because it will never be found in all that undergrowth. What a pity! I am sure we could have sold it for a handsome price.’
‘It was not something to be haggled over,’ said Geoffrey. He flexed his arm, aware that it no longer throbbed and his wits were clear. He supposed his tussle with Ivar must have dislodged some pocket of poison and allowed his humours to rebalance themselves.