'And he would have thought it was from a monk.'
The smile faded. 'I knew there would be blood, so I went to the laundry and stole a habit. I had found a key to the laundry in the table drawer in my room when I came here.'
'The key Brother Luke dropped when he was grappling with Orphan Stonegarden. She must have kept it.'
'That poor girl. Better you should look for her killer than Singleton's.' She stared at me fixedly. 'I put on the habit, took the sword, and went through the passage to the kitchen. Brother Guy and I were tending one of the old monks; I said I needed to rest for an hour. It was so easy. I stood behind the cupboard in the kitchen and the moment he stepped past me I struck him.' She smiled, a smile of terrible fulfilment. 'I had sharpened the sword, and his head was off with a stroke.'
'Just like Queen Anne Boleyn's.'
'Just like Mark's.' Her expression changed, she frowned. 'So much blood. I hoped his blood would wash away my anger, but it has not. I still see my cousin's face in dreams.'
Then her eyes lit up and she gave a great sigh of relief as a hand grasped my wrist from behind and pulled my arm behind my back, sending my dagger clattering to the floor. Another wrapped itself round my neck. Looking down I saw a knife held to my throat.
'Jerome?' I croaked.
'No, sir,' Mark's voice answered. 'Do not cry out.' The knife pressed into my flesh. 'Go and sit on that bed. Move slowly.'
I tottered across the room and crumpled upon the truckle bed. Alice stood up and went to Mark's side, putting her arm round him.
'I thought you would never come. I have kept him talking.'
Mark closed the door, and then stood balanced on the balls of his feet, his dagger a foot from my throat; in a moment he could pitch forward and slit my gizzard. His face was not cold now, but full of determination. I looked at him. 'It was you in the courtyard just now? You followed me?'
'Yes. Who else knows, sir?' Still he called me sir. I almost laughed.
'The messenger was one of Lord Cromwell's servants. Cromwell will know its contents by now. So, you know what she has done?'
'She told me when we first lay together the day you left for London. I told her you were clever, I saw you drawing closer and we made preparations to leave tonight. If you had arrived a few hours later you would have found us escaped. I wish you had.'
'There is no escape now. Not in England.'
'We shall not be in England. A boat is waiting out on the river to take us to France.'
'The smugglers?'
'Yes,' Alice said in matter-of-fact tones. 'I lied to you. My childhood friends never drowned and they remain my friends. There is a French ship waiting out at sea, it is picking up a cargo from the monastery tomorrow night, but they are sending a boat in to collect us tonight.'
I started. 'From the monastery? Do you know from whom, or what it is?'
'I do not care. We will wait on the ship till tomorrow, then sail for France.'
'Mark, do you know what this cargo is?'
'No.' He bit his lip. 'I am sorry, sir, only Alice and our escape matter to me now.'
'They have no love of English reformers in France.'
He looked at me with pity. 'I am no reformer. I never have been. Least of all after what I have learned of how Cromwell works.'
'You are a traitor,' I told him. 'False to your king and false to me who treated you as a son.'
He looked at me pityingly. 'I am no son to you, sir. I have never agreed with your religion. You would have realized that if you had ever really listened to what I said instead of treating me as a sounding board for your own opinions.'
I groaned. 'I have not deserved this of you. Nor you, Alice.'