He would not catch her out in an involuntary admission again. ‘The crucial point,’ she replied smoothly, ‘is the bell for lauds. Those who heard the argument near the bridge, the ferryman and the priest, say that the bell rang immediately after the argument. It must provide an alibi for the cardinals named by both sentries - and the abbot,’ she hastily added, ‘provided they all attended lauds. The distance is too great for anyone to have reached the Grande Chapelle in time.’

‘Nor would it be within their ethical code to murder anyone in cold blood.’ His expression did not change by as much as a flicker.

Hildegard thought of this man’s master and shuddered. Did he not know about the thousands massacred in Cesena?

‘That is a point,’ she replied in a neutral tone.

His piercing glance never left her face. He looked undecided as to how to take her response. Instead of letting it hold him back he launched a sudden riposte. ‘For what reason was the duc’s esquire on the bridge at that time of night? Did you find out?’

‘Was he on some errand?’ she countered.

Athanasius gave a thin smile. ‘If that is so the sentries on duty at the palace would have seen him leave.’

‘And they did not?’ Hildegard looked suitably astonished.

Athanasius said nothing.

‘I fear the whole thing is a mystery, magister.’

‘A mystery I am now sufficiently intrigued enough to attempt to solve. What will you do next?’

‘I? I will hope, magister. I will hope that sometime, somewhere, the murderer will accidentally betray himself so that by God’s good grace he may be punished.’

**

In fact she knew exactly what she was going to do next. No stone shall lie unturned. Reaching her cell, thankful to find it empty, she rummaged in her travel bag to find the plain brown wool kirtle she had worn as Mistress York on her pilgrimage to Compostela and now carried to cover such eventualities as this.

Quickly pulling it on over her Cistercian habit and then covering it with her cloak, she let herself out again and went down into the great courtyard.

The rain was back. Just as she was hurrying with her hood up towards the gate into the street she nearly bumped into Hubert de Courcy striding out of the courier’s office with something flapping in his hand.

He gripped her by the edge of her cloak to detain her.

‘Just the person I need to see. I have news from London.’ He held up a letter. ‘Bad news.’ He held her arm with some ferocity. ‘Hildegard, this is really bad news. I fear it heralds something even worse. I don’t yet know how to comprehend it.’

‘What is it?’

‘Mayor Brembre. Executed.’

‘What?’

‘Beheaded on Tower Green.’

‘On what pretext?’

‘Treason.’

‘But that’s nonsense!’

‘Of course it is. The wolves are truly circling. Meet me. We must discuss this at once.’

‘When did it happen?’

‘Last week. I have a fast courier direct from headquarters. London is in uproar.’

‘I was just going out on some other business,’ she explained, undecided what to do.

‘Can’t it wait?’

‘Of course.’

Together they hurried out of the rain to the steps leading inside the palace. He turned to her. ‘For the sake of your reputation,’ he remarked with some irony, ‘we shall meet in the loggia in half an hour by the bell where we may talk privately with no danger of intimacy. I’m just going to get out of these wet garments,’ he added.

A novice from the Order was hovering at the top of the steps. Hubert went up to him. ‘Ask my brothers to attend me in the loggia, will you?’

**

The meeting place Hubert had chosen was an ante chamber at the top of the main staircase. It was used whenever the pope wanted to show himself to the crowd gathered in the Court of Honour to receive his blessing. It had links to other parts of the palace, from the austere old palace to the newer more richly decorated one, and was busy enough to allow some conversation in private. With a high, flamboyantly carved ceiling in keeping with the latest ideas of the masons and, with its marble floor, it echoed to the footsteps of people passing from one part of the palace to the other.

As soon as she appeared Hubert led her to the far end to where a window niche afforded some privacy. He settled himself on the sill. Hildegard, keeping her distance, remained standing, waiting impatiently for his brother monks to turn up and thinking: and you are a future cardinal of Pope Clement. She could not look at him.

‘Why did Brembre not escape while he had the chance?’ she managed eventually.

Hubert, looked unexpecedly stunned by the news. ‘How could he foresee that the rule of law would be disregarded?’ he eventually ground out. ‘He had trust in it even though he didn’t always stick to it himself. No-one would expect the King’s Council to behave in this monstrous manner. Now everything is changed. The law means nothing.’ He got up and began to pace back and forth.

‘What about the others? Does your letter say anything about them?’ She meant the other advisors to King Richard.

‘We must fear for them.’

‘I can’t see Alexander Neville running away.’ She reminded Hubert of the time when she had been travelling with the Archbishop to Westminster, to the parliament King Richard had summoned to discuss the threatened French invasion.

Their char had been halted by a band of men in dense woodland outside Lincoln. The men had clearly imagined it contained only the driver, a nun and a young monk.

Then Neville, asleep in the back under cover, had risen from his couch to put in a dramatic appearance when he realised what was happening.

“I,” he had declaimed, rising up with a huge sword swinging from his belt, “am the Archbishop of York!”

The men had been knocked back from their felonious intentions by the sheer magnificence of his appearance and the obvious inference that he could use his sword to good effect.

Hubert managed to bring a faint smile to his face when she mentioned him. ‘That’s Alexander all right. Firey Neville. I agree, I can’t see him running away. But he has no army of his own. If it comes to the worst, what can he do?’

‘The bishop of Norwich will urge him to reconsider arming the Church. He’ll cite his success in putting down the Peasants’ Revolt in Norfolk by means of his own armed militia.’

He frowned. ‘Most of us joined the Order precisely because we did not want to go on killing. We put down our swords. We believe there’s a better way of solving our differences than resorting to violence. We seek peace.’

‘Is it possible to live unarmed in this world?’

He rubbed his eyes. ‘It seems not, unless we turn ourselves into martyrs. Heaven prevent Alexander from being forced to take that route!’

The other two monks arrived. Hubert had referred to them previously as his supporters. Now it was clear why he had done so. They would present him to the school of cardinals as a prospective candidate. Everything showed that he took precedence over them.

They listened in silence to what he had to tell them. Made one or two conventional exclamations of horror. And then waited to see what he would say next. The tall lanky Brother Gregory, the one she imagined as a swordsman, looked as if he would burst into tears. His companion, Egbert, clenched and unclenched his fists and bit his bottom lip.

Hildegard grew impatient. ‘We should be in London, giving a voice to all those who are repelled to see the king’s council acting outside the law.’

Hubert’s eyes gleamed then quickly clouded. ‘Would it were possible. I am tied here - for various reasons,’ he added avoiding her raised eyebrows.

Stiffly she said, ‘My gratitude for this information about current events, abbot.’ She bowed her head and was about to move away when he got up from his seat and stepped towards her.