"I have heard the Jesuits deal ruthlessly with those who stand in the way of their mission," I said, taking a step back, but Jerome had turned his green eyes on Thomas. "They are as ready to kill for their faith as to die for it-as you have already shown."

"As I have shown?" Jerome looked back at me for a moment, then let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. "I see-you have weighed up your evidence, Bruno, and concluded that I must be the Lincoln killer because I have the most to protect. Am I right?"

"Roger Mercer threatened to expose your breach of chastity," I said, grasping at facts that had seemed so self-evident a moment ago and now threatened to slip away from me. "You wanted him silenced."

"I do not deny that. I mentioned to Jenkes that Roger had been fed ill reports of me and his doubts threatened my safety-I expected Jenkes to have a quiet word in his usual way. But I made a mistake." He paused to rake his smooth hair out of his face. "Perhaps you know the story of our Saint Thomas Becket, Bruno-our greatest Archbishop of Canterbury. It is said that King Henry the Second, in a moment of frustration, cried in the presence of his nobles, 'Who will rid me of this turbulent priest?' He meant it as a rhetorical question only, but they chose to understand it as an order-consequently Becket was run through with a sword while at prayer, to the king's horror. That was my mistake. I muttered something similar over poor Roger Mercer, and my faithful servant here"-he cast a look at Thomas every bit as loaded with scorn as his voice-"chose to interpret that in his own way."

"I did not hear you object, Father," Thomas said quietly. "You were pleased to have my help then."

Jerome shrugged, unabashed. "I do not deny that the thought of sparing myself-and Sophia-the disgrace Roger Mercer had threatened was attractive." He turned back to me. "But since you seem to have appointed yourself constable and magistrate in this case, Bruno, you should look more closely at your evidence. Thomas is every bit as good a player as I am-it seems he had you cozened, at any rate. He may appear harebrained and nervous as a coney, but he is as shrewd as the Devil himself."

Thomas merely returned his stare, his face inscrutable.

"He proposed that he would conjure a solution to our difficulty," Jerome continued. "Those were his words. I accepted his offer and said I wished to know nothing more until it was done. So I had no idea he had persuaded the Nappers to help him steal a dog. I was on my way back from Mass that night when I heard the commotion in the grove and ran for my longbow. Only then did I learn what an elaborate display he had created." He twisted his mouth in distaste.

"But why?" I asked, turning to Thomas as I tried to revise all the conclusions I thought I had made. "What made you kill a man in such a manner, when you could not even be certain of the outcome?"

"Martyrs," Thomas spat, as though the very word disgusted him. "It is become their obsession. They all wanted to be martyrs for their faith, or at least they claimed they did. The highest glory." His voice was rising to a manic pitch; he shook his head in fury. "Even my father seeks a martyr's crown, it seems. What kind of a religion is that, Doctor Bruno, that makes men fall in love with death over life? Where is love, then? Where is human kindness?"

I could have pointed out that a man who would set a starving hunting dog on his father's closest friend may not be the best placed to talk of human kindness, but I kept silent. Thomas gestured at Sophia. "To have the love of a woman like Sophia, the prospect of new life in her womb-"

"Thomas!" Sophia cried, stepping forward, but Jerome held out a hand to restrain her.

"But this… creature"-Thomas exploded, stabbing a finger at Jerome-"throws it all aside, he saves all his desire for the executioner's blade!" His pointing finger trembled with pent-up passion. "Well then, let them try martyrdom, I thought, see how they like it. The rector had just given a sermon on the death of Saint Ignatius. The teeth of wild beasts. It seemed as good a way as any to send Roger to meet his God." He produced a strange, high-pitched laugh that chilled my blood. "After the pain my father suffered for his sake, it was the least he deserved."

An unnerving silence followed this outburst as the echo of his words died away. Sophia, Jerome, and I stared at Thomas in rapt horror for a moment.

"And with every member of the college under increasing scrutiny, I was afraid my cover would be at risk. Which was your intention all along, was it not, my friend?" Jerome added softly, raising his head to look at Thomas, who only continued to return his stare, unblinking. I watched them both, still feeling all my nerves taut as a bowstring; I didn't know if Thomas was more disturbing when he was pulsing with manic energy or in this strange new stillness, as if he were a cat waiting to pounce.

"So you went to Mercer's room to get your hands on those papers before Thomas did?" I asked, turning back to Jerome. He made a brief, impatient movement with his head.

"I had no idea that Thomas knew about them. After Mercer threatened to expose me, I knew I would always be vulnerable while those letters-all Edmund Allen's correspondence with Rheims about my mission, and the Regnans in Excelsis papal bull-were not in my own hands. But I barely had time to search his room before I saw you through the window, crossing the courtyard toward the tower staircase. I had to hide myself up on the roof of the tower before you came in. That was when I knew your true business in the college." He nodded significantly, planting his hands on his hips.

"I had no business," I said, my heart pummelling at my ribs, "other than an interest in finding out how a man could have met such a horrific death-an interest none of his colleagues seemed to share. I only wanted to find some clue as to who he planned to meet and why he carried a full purse."

Jerome cast his eyes down, his face guilty for the first time.

"Thomas asked only that I lure Mercer to the grove that morning. I had told him I felt I should return to France in the circumstances. I asked him to meet me to return some of the money he held for me on behalf of the mission so that I could travel."

"But then what of Coverdale?" I asked, looking from Jerome to Thomas. "Did he also find out about Sophia?"

"You had better ask Thomas about Coverdale," Jerome said, setting his jaw.

"That snake," Thomas whispered, his soft voice making me jump after his long silence. "Coverdale petitioned the rector for my removal from the college. He feared I knew too much and thought I would betray them out of revenge. The rector at least had some compassion and let me stay on, but it was Coverdale's fault that I lost my scholarship and had to depend on his charity." He jerked his head toward Jerome. "Well, James Coverdale learned what revenge looked like. He was ever a coward-he cried like a girl child when I showed him the razor, and pissed himself."

"So you decided to make a martyr of him too, because you despised his faith?"

Thomas smiled, looking at me from the corner of his eye like a child caught out in some mischief.

"When Jerome sent me to take his longbow and arrows to the strong room, I had the idea of Saint Sebastian. I thought if the deaths looked like a pattern, it would frighten them even more. I asked Doctor Coverdale if I could speak privately with him later and he told me he would arrange to leave the disputation early. He feared I had come to bargain with him, but he never expected what happened next." He was hugging himself tightly, rocking slightly, his mouth wide in a silent laugh. "I needed those letters too. That room used to be my father's, remember? I knew if I could put them into the right hands, he would be finished." He pointed again at Jerome with a flourish.