Donal’s mouth dropped open. ‘How—?’
‘Never mind how I know what you told Rollo. All you need to understand is that the relics of the saint will be desecrated in the cathedral tomorrow – but the time has changed. Now it will be done at dawn, with few people present.’
‘Why are you telling me?’
‘So that you will tell Rollo.’
‘You hate the Fitzgeralds – they ruined your family.’
‘Don’t try to figure this out. Just do what you’re told and save your skin.’
‘Rollo will ask how I know about the change.’
‘Say you overheard Dan Cobley talking about it.’
‘All right.’
‘Go and see Rollo now. You must have some means of signalling that you need an urgent meeting.’
‘I’ll just finish my beer.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather be stone cold sober?’
Donal looked regretfully at his tankard.
Ned said: ‘Now, Donal.’
Donal got up and left.
Ned left a few minutes later. He walked back up the main street. He felt uneasy. He had a plan, but it relied on a lot of people doing what he expected: Dean Luke, Donal Gloster, Rollo Fitzgerald and – most important of all, and most wilful – Earl Swithin. If one part of the chain were to break, the scheme would fail.
And now he had to add one more link.
He walked past the cathedral, the Bell inn, and the new Fitzgerald palace called Priory Gate, and went into the Guild Hall. There he tapped on the door of Sheriff Matthewson’s room and went in without waiting for an invitation. The sheriff was eating an early supper of bread and cold meat. He put down his knife and wiped his mouth. ‘Good evening, Mr Willard. I hope you’re well.’
‘Very well, sheriff, I thank you.’
‘Can I be of service to you?’
‘To the queen, sheriff. Her majesty has a job for you to do – tonight.’
*
ROLLO NERVOUSLY TOUCHEDthe hilt of his sword. He had never been in battle. As a boy he had practised with a wooden weapon, like most sons of prosperous families, but he had no experience of deadly combat.
Sir Reginald’s bedroom was full of people, and unlit, but no one was in bed. From the windows there was a spectacular view of the north and west sides of Kingsbridge Cathedral. It was a clear night, and to Rollo’s dark-adapted eyes the glimmering starlight revealed the outline of the church, faint but clear. Under its pointed arches, all doorways and windows were deep pools of gloom, like the eye sockets of a man blinded for forging money. Higher up, the turrets with their crockets and finials were blackly silhouetted against the night sky.
With Rollo were his father, Sir Reginald; his brother-in-law, Bart Shiring; Bart’s father, Earl Swithin; and two of Swithin’s most trusted men-at-arms. All wore swords and daggers.
When the cathedral bell had struck four, Stephen Lincoln had said Mass and then had given all six of them absolution for the sins they were about to commit. They had been watching since then.
The women of the house, Lady Jane and Margery, were in bed, but Rollo doubted that they were asleep.
The market square, so crowded and noisy in the day, was now empty and silent. On the far side were the Grammar School and the bishop’s palace, both now dark. Beyond them the city sloped downhill to the river, and the close-packed roofs of the houses looked like the tiled steps of a giant staircase.
Rollo hoped that Swithin and Bart and the men-at-arms, whose profession was violence, would do any fighting necessary.
First light cracked the dome of stars and turned the cathedral from black to grey. Soon afterwards, someone whispered: ‘There.’ Rollo saw a silent procession emerge from the bishop’s palace, six dark figures, each carrying a candle lamp. They crossed the square and entered the church by the west door, their lamps vanishing as if extinguished.
