‘But the Upright Men would be vulnerable to a rampaging bear.’
‘I don’t think so!’ Cranston spoke up. ‘The royal beastmaster and his retinue had one task: to check and drive back that bear. While all this was going on the Upright Men also had one task: to storm Beauchamp Tower, release the prisoner and, using the mayhem as a shield, withdraw as swiftly as they’d entered.’
Rachael stared down at her feet, tapping her ankle-length boots against the floor.
‘Surely,’ she glanced up, ‘if Rosselyn was a traitor, why didn’t he inform the Upright Men that Thibault was bringing down war cogs as a defence against any attack?’
‘Very sharp!’ Athelstan retorted. ‘There are two possibilities. First, as with the assault on the Roundhoop, Rosselyn dare not inform the Upright Men; the number of people who knew about that would be very limited. Rosselyn was frightened that the finger of suspicion might be pointed at him. Secondly, perhaps Thibault decided to inform nobody in his entourage about what he was planning. After all, there was a traitor in his camp. Thibault is no fool; he’d have his own suspicions that something was wrong.’
‘Or Rosselyn was just unfortunate,’ Cranston declared. ‘He was never given the opportunity. Nevertheless, the Upright Men must have been furious.’
‘Oh, I suspect they were. Rossleyn’s days were numbered.’ Athelstan rose to his feet. ‘Such is the problem with traitors.’ He sighed. ‘Judas discovered that, in the end, nobody really trusts you and nobody allows you back. Rosselyn wasn’t your concern. You were looking after yourself. How would anyone possibly suspect the fair Rachael, who was always close by, the distressed maiden when these assaults occurred?’ Athelstan picked at a loose thread on his robe, rolling it between his fingers, ‘And, of course, there were other occasions when you couldn’t possibly have been involved, or so you would have everyone believe.’
‘What are you talking about, Brother?’
‘Huddle the painter was killed leaving Saint Erconwald’s Church. You, along with the others, were supposed to be detained here in the Tower. ‘Quis Custodiet custodes?’ As the great Augustine said, ‘Who will guard the guards?’ Rossleyn provided you with the weapons and allowed you secret passage in and out of the Tower. You are a master or mistress of disguise. You followed Sir John and I across the bridge and waited. A figure wearing the black and white garb of a Dominican left Saint Erconwald’s, you loosed and killed Huddle.’
A smile flittered across Rachael’s face.
‘Or was it me that you intended to kill? Did you suspect, or were you informed, that Huddle was the real traitor? I cannot be precise about everything in this hideous affair and, to a certain extent, it does not matter now. Huddle lies cold in the soil. However, you did make a mistake over that poor painter’s death as well as your other doings in my parish. What did you know of them? You talked about me burying a parishioner. You implied he had been killed – but how did you know that? I never told anyone here, nor did Sir John. None of my parishioners know you or you them. So how?’
‘I confessed under the seal.’
‘Not as a sin. Are you doing that now? Then your confession must be public.’
Rachael flicked her hair, rubbing her face between her hands.
‘Much more serious were the Wardes. You discovered they were Gaunt’s spies in the cell of Saint Erconwald’s. The Upright Men must have told you that, or Rosselyn. You’d surely demand the truth about how Boaz and others were so neatly trapped. The finger of suspicion pointed at the Wardes. May God absolve you, Rachael. You did not confess to me, not really. You did not validly take the sacrament; you are not covered by the seal. You seethe with hatred. You have an unslaked thirst, a ravenous hunger for revenge. Did the Upright Men demand the total annihilation of the Wardes? If not, your vengeance certainly did.’
‘So I left the Tower, crossed to Southwark and massacred an entire family?’
‘In a word, yes! Rosselyn allowed you out. You ensured all was safe, quiet then you moved. You carried out your hideous crime without any sign of resistance or struggle. Why, Rachael?’
She just shrugged.
‘Because,’ Cranston spoke his thoughts aloud, ‘Warde admitted someone he either knew and trusted or someone who appeared to pose no threat.’
‘Precisely,’ Athelstan agreed. ‘On that fateful evening Humphrey Warde opened his door to a delightful young woman who claimed to have a recommendation to visit him. I presume you came in disguise, hooded and cowled. You also gambled on the fact that the Wardes were distrusted – not the type of
