"But I don't understand," I said. "If you wanted to expose Jerome, why not just tell the rector what you knew, long before this? You could have saved two innocent lives."

Thomas gave me a scathing look. "And lose my own? I took you for a clever man, Doctor Bruno. I was dependent on him-don't you see that? I could do nothing until I was assured of another place by some means. And perhaps you do not know the laws of our land. To aid, comfort, or maintain a Jesuit is a felony, punishable by death. To live as his servant, to take his shilling, to maintain his disguise-what is that if not aiding? And if the law did not kill me, that whoreson Jenkes would have done it first if I betrayed Gabriel. Gabriel-ha! He even took the name of an archangel-is that not hubris?"

"The face of an angel," I murmured, echoing Humphrey Pritchard's words. "But if someone else were to discover him, then you could not be implicated. All you had to do was point them in the right direction, with your quotations and your diagrams." I let the words hang in the air. Thomas only looked at me, his teeth grinding together unconsciously. "And poor Ned? Did he also betray your father?"

"Ned?" Sophia, who until now had been listening to Thomas's confessions with an expression of increasing horror, suddenly reached out and clutched Jerome's arm. "Little Ned Lacy, the Bible clerk? He is not dead too?"

I nodded grimly, watching Thomas. Sophia pressed her hands over her face.

"He saw me with Sophia in the library while everyone was at the disputation, before I went to Coverdale's room," Thomas said, with a shrug. "I was trying to persuade her not to run away with Jerome." His brow creased briefly and he rubbed his eyes. "Then I saw you giving Ned money, I didn't know what to do. If he had not come back early, he would not be dead. It was his own fault."

"But you couldn't resist visiting a martyrdom on him as well?" I said, my revulsion growing as I watched his apparent coldness. Thomas smiled slowly.

"It was a way of punishing the rector. Didn't you always say, Sophia, that your father loved Foxe's book more than his family? I swore I would make him hate that book. For you," he added. "It was all for you. One day you will see that."

"Enough!" Sophia cried, her voice thick with emotion. "Enough talking, all of you-it is almost full daylight and no doubt they will have the watch out looking for me by now. We must leave, Jerome. What's done is done, and it will all be for nothing if we do not get away while we can." She pulled urgently at his sleeve.

Thomas suddenly sprang to life as if a fire had been lit under him.

"You will not go to your death, Sophia," he breathed, planting his feet firmly and fixing her with his furious gaze, his trembling hand still pointed at Jerome. "You think he will take you safe to France? Five years of training and the best part of his inheritance he has given to this mission-you really believe he will give it all up for you? No, he craves the glory of martyrdom like the rest of them. He means for you to meet with an accident at sea."

"Your mind is addled, Thomas," Jerome began, taking a step toward him, his hand held out in a placatory gesture. Thomas sprang away.

"But I will not let that happen," he cried, his voice high and strangulated, "and if you will not heed my warning-"

He left the threat unspoken as, instead, he pulled the razor from under his cloak and, in the same movement, lunged at Jerome. I slipped Humphrey's knife from my belt but the Jesuit was soundly trained; before I could move, he had pushed Sophia behind him and aimed a kick at Thomas's outstretched arm. Thomas lost balance for a moment, though he did not drop the razor, but his slip gave Jerome the chance to bend and pull a knife from the side of his boot. Both circled warily, facing each other, eyes locked and weapons drawn, while Sophia stifled a scream and I hovered uselessly at the edge of this duel, wondering how I might intervene. But I did not have the chance; at that moment the door burst open and Barton ran into the room, his poker held aloft. Thomas wheeled around with blazing eyes and, faster than you could blink, slashed wildly at the man's arm with his razor before he could strike. Barton howled and dropped the poker, clutching at his wound, and Thomas, seemingly crazed, leaped upon him and slashed at his neck with the razor over and over again. I threw myself at Thomas, wrapping myself around his back and pulling at his arm but he was surprisingly strong for such a wiry boy, and it seemed his fury had lent him supernatural strength. He attempted to shake me off, but I was unable to restrain him and Barton's last guttural cries were drowned by Sophia's screams as his lifeblood gushed from the open wound over the brick floor and his dying breath faded as he clutched at Thomas's cloak and then slumped to the ground.

I let go of Thomas and turned, expecting to find Sophia hysterical from the scene she had just witnessed, but I saw that in the confusion Jerome had seized her from behind and was now holding her with one arm hooked around her chest, his knife pointed at the soft white skin of her throat.

"Put the razor down, Thomas," he said, slowly and clearly, again sounding as calm as if he were a schoolmaster addressing a room full of mischievous boys. Thomas only stared slack-jawed, his face, arms, and hands sprayed with the servant's blood, then he took a step forward and Jerome jerked the knife closer to Sophia's neck; she bit back a cry and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head with tiny movements.

"Let her go," I said, trying to match Jerome's tone of calm authority.

"Let her go? Or what will you do, Bruno?" He kept the knife tilted at her throat, regarding me as if I were a tiresome distraction. "Did you bring reinforcements?"

"No one knows I am here," I said, not knowing if I spoke the truth. If Cobbett's messenger had managed to get the bundle of papers to Sidney, would he gather some men and come to look for me at Hazeley Court? How long would it take them to arrive, if he did? But the chance that Slythurst had let any messenger leave the college unhindered was tiny.

As if reading my mind, Jerome shook his head impatiently.

"Well, no matter. They will be too late. Once and for all, throw your weapons down on the floor or your quest will have been in vain." He lifted the elbow of the arm that held the knife, as if to plunge it. Thomas gave me a brief glance, then cast his razor onto the floor in front of him, where it clattered in the silence until it became still. I looked at Sophia, who had opened her eyes now and was watching me with an expression of mingled despair, fear, and disbelief, then I too threw down my knife.

Jerome nodded.

"Good. Now you will stay here, still and quiet, before anyone else gets hurt." He was manoeuvring Sophia toward the door that led to the western tower staircase, his knife still in place at her neck. Roughly he wrestled her forward, kicking the door shut behind him; as it swung, Thomas gave a cry of rage and ran at the doorway.

"You will not succeed," Thomas cried in ragged breaths, racing to follow them; to my surprise, Jerome was forcing Sophia up the stairs instead of down, and as Thomas reached them Jerome kicked out and caught him on the jaw, making him fall back into me, his mouth bleeding.

Undeterred, he picked himself up and launched himself onto the narrow staircase, trying to grab at Jerome's heels as Jerome tried to kick back at him, while I followed close behind, pausing only to pick up my knife from the floor. Somewhere above us, echoing from the curving stone, we suddenly heard Sophia scream as if at a sharp pain, and I slapped at Thomas's ankle from below.

"He still has a knife at her back," I hissed. "For God's sake, do nothing hasty."

The climb was relentless; at one point I thought I heard Sophia cry, "I cannot," and Jerome answer, "Trust me," but the voices were muffled by the echoes. My battered legs began to tremble as we climbed higher, intermittently passing small cruciform windows that offered views over the manor's parkland and forest, and still Jerome forced Sophia up, and we followed, until I felt a draught of chill air on my face and understood that he was leading us to the very battlements of the tower. My stomach convulsed slightly as I tried to imagine what he might have in mind, and whether all four of us would return alive.