A Killer in Winter

‘We made a mistake with Giles as well. We thought he was involved in something sinister, but he was not. The few times he did venture out on his painful feet were to buy a book on Philippa’s behalf, to indulge an idle and harmless curiosity about Dympna, or to arrange for Turke’s embalming. And when he was so clearly relieved to hear us say we would not investigate Turke’s odd death, it was not because he had a hand in it, but because he did not want his sister distressed. He was being kind.’

‘He was being a fool,’ said Michael disparagingly. ‘He allowed Philippa to borrow his cloak and that silly feathered hat without asking why. All this relates to your observation about distinguishing features – you said a really prominent characteristic will mask all else, and Philippa used Giles’s hat to do just that. Harysone knew about distinguishing features, too, and adopted those teeth. His disguise fooled his kinsmen, as well as Giles. It was a pity Philippa was not more skilled in the use of her dagger. If she had stabbed Harysone properly, then he would not have dragged his cousin to a watery grave or locked me in a damp cellar for so many hours.’

‘Matilde was right and wrong, too. She knew there was something sad about Philippa, which was correct, but it had nothing to do with love, as she surmised.’

‘And we were definitely wrong about Dunstan and Athelbald,’ said Michael, chuckling fondly. ‘I still cannot believe they were so deeply involved in the case. The old devils! Still, it is good they had the last laugh. I shall miss them.’

‘So shall I,’ said Bartholomew quietly.

Michael nudged him in the ribs, wanting to dispel the sudden pall of gloom that had descended on them. ‘There is another thing: I know the identity of the rogue who fashioned that wicked but very clever model of William out of marchpane.’

‘You do?’ asked Bartholomew uneasily.

‘Oh, yes. There is only one man in the College who has a talent for drawing and other artistry, and a pair of skilled hands.’

‘I see,’ said Bartholomew, smiling. ‘However, I did not know the thing was disguised under all those veils purporting to be the Virgin, nor that the marchpane was made from salt, so do not blame me for either of those.’

‘You must have known about the salt,’ said Michael in disbelief. ‘Do not tell me you did not take a bite when you were labouring over those details!’

‘I am not you, Brother. Gorging myself on the marchpane Gray provided for his prank did not cross my mind. Supposing there was not enough to finish it properly?’

Both scholars looked up when the latch on the orchard gate clanked, heralding the arrival of someone else. It was Philippa, leaning on her brother’s arm and escorted by Cynric. Unfortunately, the sudden thaw had confounded the embalmer’s calculations, and the resulting problems with Turke’s body had kept her and Abigny in Cambridge longer than they had intended.

‘We have come to say our farewells at last,’ said Abigny, leaning against the wall. He was smiling, and Bartholomew saw again the carefree young man with whom he had once shared a room. A great weight had been lifted from Abigny. ‘We are going to Walsingham, to complete our pilgrimage. Personally, I would be just as happy to go home, but northward we shall venture.’

‘What about Turke?’ asked Michael baldly. ‘Will you leave him here while he rots?’

Philippa winced. ‘I wanted to take him with us. It was his pilgrimage, after all, and I think he needs to complete it. But the embalmer says he will not last, so we have compromised.’ She held a small box in her hands, which she passed to Bartholomew.

‘What is it?’ It was heavily sealed, so he could not open it.

‘Walter’s heart. We will carry it to Walsingham and leave it there. Meanwhile, young Quenhyth is going home to make peace with his father over the misunderstanding with the Waits and the chalice he accused them of stealing. He has offered to accompany the rest of Walter to Chepe. It is very kind of him.’

‘Very,’ said Bartholomew, shoving the box back at her with some distaste. ‘Quenhyth will take good care of Walter. The lad has his faults, but unreliability and carelessness are not among them.’

She turned to Michael. ‘When I return home, I shall send funds from my inheritance that will help to establish a new Dympna.’

‘All right,’ said Michael warily. ‘Although I am not sure we need another of those.’

‘It will be safe in the hands of good men,’ said Philippa.

‘Ailred was a good man,’ Bartholomew pointed out.

Abigny pointed to the sky, and took his sister’s arm. ‘We should go, or we shall have to delay our departure until tomorrow – and I am certain Edith and Oswald want us gone.’

‘Edith has offered us her home when we return from Walsingham,’ said Philippa shyly. She glanced at Bartholomew. ‘When I come back, with all stains of these horrible events wiped from my conscience, perhaps I could stay a while in Cambridge, and you and I could resume our friendship Perhaps where we left off, all those years ago?’