‘What, what are you talking about?’
‘You made a mistake about Huddle’s death, but you also described Warde’s killer moving from chamber to chamber. How did you know that?’
‘I would like a drink,’ Rachael declared loudly. ‘My throat is dry. Have you finished, Brother?’
‘No, because you had not. The Upright Men did not really concern you. They could plot whatever they wanted against Gaunt. At the same time Thibault and his coven were growing more vigilant. So you turned back to easier quarry. You regarded the Straw Men as a coven of traitors, not so much to the Common Good but to the ideals your beloved Boaz died for.’
Athelstan leaned forward, offering her the goblet which she took. ‘I truly believe that you put the entire company under the ban. Samuel was your next victim.’
‘He committed suicide.’
‘No, you made it appear so. Once again with Rosselyn, now much smitten with you. Oh, yes, he was! I saw him watch you play that masque in Saint Peter’s ad Vincula. He, as with so many men you have dealt with, followed you like a dog guarding your ways. You slipped through the dark and into Bowyer Tower. You knocked at Samuel’s chamber. Only the good Lord knows what part you played then: worried, anxious, coy, timid or flirtatious. You also brought along a wine skin and a goblet. I’m sure the wine was laced with the opiate that you had taken from Warde’s shop. You pretended to drink. Samuel certainly did and fell into a dead swoon. You summoned up Rosselyn. You took the fire rope, fastened it around the senseless Samuel’s throat and thrust him out of the window to strangle. You then cleared the room and put anything you’d brought back into a sack. You leave. Rosselyn locks and bolts the door behind you and climbs out of the window. He uses the rope then the corpse to reach the chamber directly below. You were waiting for him. You opened the shutters and Rosselyn climbed through. You then close and bar the window. You would wipe away any wet, perhaps even sprinkle a little dust, but who would really notice in that darkened chamber? Moreover, those same shutters were violently disturbed – broken – when Thibault decided to force the chamber. What evidence could they offer? You hoped that would happen, which is why you locked that chamber and slid the key under the door.’ Athelstan paused and went to stand over her. She gazed coolly back.
‘Samuel was not your only victim. Rosselyn was much taken with you but you, unbeknown to our captain of archers, had unfinished business with him. Rosselyn constantly played the two-faced Janus, acting as Thibault’s henchman yet also spying for the Upright Men. In your eyes he could have informed the Upright Men about the trap being planned at the Roundhoop, but he didn’t.’ Athelstan chewed the corner of his lip. ‘As I have said, I could understand why: that would have been too dangerous for Rosselyn.’ Athelstan bent down, holding Rachael’s strange, green-eyed stare. ‘But to you, Rosselyn was just another traitor, a coward who could have saved Boaz but didn’t. In that darkened chamber in Bowyer Tower, lit only by a scrap of candle, you decided on both judgement and punishment.’ Athelstan returned to sit on his bed. ‘We men are easy to scrutinize, Rachael. Our lusts are our weaknesses. Rosselyn must have been full of his own prowess. He viewed himself as your partner with hopes of becoming your paramour. He’d flirt and demand a kiss. You sat him on that stool. You bestrode his lap like any tavern wench, pressing yourself up against him, moving backwards and forwards to excite his crotch. You caressed him. You put one hand behind the back of his head, the other, hanging by your side, carried a long Italianate poignard. Once again you act the lover, telling him to close his eyes. Rosselyn did. You struck, a swift killing blow pushing the dagger deep into his left eye while keeping him pressed against the wall. He would jerk and struggle but only for a few heartbeats; you would have two hands on that dagger handle, pushing with all your strength.’
‘True,’ Cranston declared. ‘A blow to the brain like that would be deadly. I have seen the same happen in battle. The shock alone would kill a man.’
‘Once Rosselyn was dead,’ Athelstan continued, ‘you pushed the acclamation into his lifeless hand. You also did something else. Before your visit to Master Samuel, you doused yourself in perfume. Now you had cleared his chamber and the shutters were left open. You certainly didn’t want your fragrance being detected on Rosselyn’s corpse. Help was at hand, a bucket of filthy water full of slime and rottenness. You doused Rosselyn’s corpse; the rank smell would kill any scent of perfume on him or in the chamber. To any observer, the killer would be depicted as
