‘Instead you betrayed the Upright Men at Aldgate and the Roundhoop.’
‘Yes, on both occasions, the Upright Men stayed here in Southwark the day before and then moved across the bridge in disguise.’ Huddle shrugged. ‘Master Thibault could make of that what he wanted.’
‘And the most recent attack,’ Cranston demanded. ‘On the Tower?’
‘After the Roundhoop,’ Huddle confessed, ‘the Upright Men became very suspicious and wary of the cell at Saint Erconwald’s but it was too late for them. I culled rumours about fighters being brought in from Essex. Provisions had to be bought, hiding places secured before they crossed the bridge.’ Huddle’s voice faltered. ‘I passed the information to Warde that the Upright Men were gathering for an attack. That’s the last time I saw Warde alive.’ The artist’s voice broke. ‘Humphrey was a good man. He had been promised so much by Gaunt. He didn’t deserve to die…’
‘Why,’ Cranston demanded, ‘didn’t the Upright Men drive Warde out, visit him at the dead of night, terrify him into confessing? I mean,’ Cranston gestured at the friar, ‘my good friend here was perplexed about that – almost as if the Wardes were protected?’
‘They were,’ Huddle asserted himself, ‘by me – let me explain. Lascelles informed me how Humphrey Warde’s stay in the parish had not been successful. He’d discovered only what everyone knew. I mean, father, it’s common knowledge about Pike, Watkin and Ranulf, isn’t it?’
Athelstan quietly agreed.
‘The Wardes were a laughing stock,’ Huddle continued. ‘I was to change this. At first I gave him mere morsels about where weapons were hidden. Lascelles eventually came back. He sent menacing messages through Humphrey that he needed meat, not just the gravy. I provided information about both the Roundhoop as well as the ambush planned near Aldgate. Now,’ Huddle rubbed his hands vigorously as if he was trying to wash them, ‘up until then I had always protected Warde. I informed the Upright Men how Warde was stupid and to let him run. Better him, I argued, than Thibault send in someone more dangerous. Of course, that all changed after the Roundhoop was stormed…’
‘Oh, Huddle,’ Athelstan whispered, ‘can’t you see what you have done? The ambush at Aldgate, the Roundhoop affray and the most recent attack on the Tower followed in very swift succession. The Upright Men must have now concluded that Warde was a very dangerous spy. Worse, they will be casting about further. How did Warde acquire such information? It’s only a matter of time before they turn on you, the very man who assured them that Warde was a nonentity. Yes, yes,’ Athelstan murmured, ‘you are wrong, Huddle. I believe the Wardes were placed under the ban but, because the entire cell in Saint Erconwald’s is now tainted, Watkin and Pike were not consulted or informed. I suspect, my friend, a similar judgement has been passed against you.’
Huddle put his face in his hands and began to sob. Athelstan stared hard at this painter whom he had come to love and care for. He had shriven Huddle at Lent and in Advent. He had listened to his secret sins, about his attraction to young men and the thoughts and desires this provoked, as well as his sense of deep shame and guilt. How he tried to lose himself in the world of hazard and chance. Athelstan always heard him out and insisted that Huddle express himself in those beautiful wall paintings which brought to life dramatic stories from the Bible.
‘Father, what will you do? What can I do?’
‘You cannot stay here, Huddle.’ Athelstan smiled bleakly. ‘You know that. You have committed the sin of Judas and, whatever their cause, betrayed those who truly trusted you.’ Athelstan steeled himself against Huddle’s heartrending sob. ‘Trust me,’ Athelstan continued, ‘as God made little apples, the Upright Men’s suspicions about you will now be hardening into a certainty. They will not entrust judgement to the likes of Watkins and Pike.’
Huddle closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
Athelstan rocked backwards and forwards. ‘Indeed, I must tell you this, Huddle. The Upright Men have their own traitor in Thibault’s household. It may be only a matter of time before he learns the truth and passes such information on, if he hasn’t already.’
Huddle would have jumped to his feet but Athelstan pressed him on the shoulder. ‘Or worse,’ he hissed, ‘do you think Lascelles will let you go? Do you think just because the Wardes are dead, Master Thibault doesn’t want more information? I assure you, Huddle, whether you like it or not, before the week is out you will face judgement from both camps. You are in this, Huddle, to the death.’ Athelstan leaned forward and cupped the artist’s face in his hands. ‘So, you are truly finished here. You cannot stay in Saint Erconwald’s, yet I will not, I cannot, hand you over to a gruesome death.’ The friar paused to collect his thoughts.
‘Father, please!’
‘Listen, Huddle. The Dominicans have a house on the outskirts of Durham near Ushaw Moor. You are to go there and hide. I shall write to the father guardian, a friend, a man I trust.’ Athelstan took his hands away. ‘You must become a lay brother for a while. Use your talents to decorate their church.’
‘And Father, what will you do?’
‘I shall tell my parish council how my order has been greatly impressed by Huddle’s marvellous talent. How they needed one of their churches decorated with paintings before the great feast of Easter. How you were reluctant to leave, but I was insistent. Now,’ Athelstan pointed to the corpse door, ‘Go to the priest’s house and wait for me there.’
Huddle left, closing the door quietly behind him. Athelstan made to rise when a thud and clatter at the door made him startle. He hurried down, opened the door and saw Huddle sprawled back, eyes staring, limbs thrashing, hands clutching at the yard-long feathered shaft embedded deep in his chest. Athelstan cried
