by Peter Tonkin
‘Which might include the throne,’ said Tom.
‘No!’ said Weever. ‘Such a thought is treasonous and voicing it surely high treason; best beware, all of you. The prize he seeks is most likely to include elevation in the eyes of Her Majesty and therefore in those of her successor if he settles a dangerous situation so close to our shores and also to both their hearts.’
*
Had Weevil revealed too much? Tom wondered. Certainly his unguarded observation explained why Antony Bacon on Essex’ behalf wanted a close watch kept on the woman who knew more than many - perhaps more than anybody - about negotiations with that successor: Mary of Scots’ son King James the Sixth of Scotland.
‘So,’ he purred, ‘the Earl is willing to risk everything on success against Hugh O’Neill and his catholic armies in Ireland while all too well aware that his absence fighting in Ulster gives his rivals at court - men such as Secretary Cecil and I would judge, Captain of the Queen’s Guard Sir Walter Raleigh - the chance to further ingratiate themselves with Her Majesty, while also courting King James in Edinburgh, though I hear tell that Raleigh may have spread his nets wider. Sir Antony Bacon sees this as clearly as anyone and is also well aware that the lady of Nonsuch House, Lady Audrey Walsingham, has managed to forge a friendship, not with King James but with his wife Queen Ann. It was therefore no coincidence that you were hanging round Nonsuch when you fell in behind Mistress Rosalind here. Sir Antony will soon be so worried about all this going on behind the Earl’s back as he marches off to Ireland that he might actually get out of bed and come to look for himself!’
‘Not while he had eyes like Master Weevil’s here to spy out the situation for him,’ said Rosalind.
‘Spoken like a creature of Robert Poley’s!’ sneered Weever. ‘And once again, as you slander your betters, you sail dangerously close to treason. Remember, all of you, that my Lord of Essex is Earl Marshal. Together with the Knight Marshal and the Pursuivant Marshal he has an army of pursuivants at his command, whose sole mission is to police Her Majesty’s subjects, seeking out Catholic plots against her. Each one a trained seeker after those of Jesuitical leanings - who have been known to measure houses outside and inside as they seek hiding places and priests’ holes. There is no end to their power when confronted by those suspected of recusancy. The Earl Marshal can have you in the Marshalsea or the Tower with a snap of his fingers.
‘But I spoke truly nonetheless,’ she countered, ‘whether I spoke here, in the Marsalsea or the Tower as you suggest. But I am no Catholic or Recusant that you threaten me with the pursuivants. There are no priests’ holes here, sir!’
‘It is not you that I refer to in this case, woman, but your swain and paramour there, Master Shagsberd. If the pursuivants have not yet come hammering on his door, it is only a matter of time before they do, for along with everything else, he is known to have gained employment in Popish houses before he came to London and may still harbor Popish sympathies!’
iv
‘“Along with everything else”,’ said Will a little while later. ‘What did he mean by that?’
‘Shall I fetch him back and ask him?’ offered Tom ‘He went off like a hunted hare but he shouldn’t have made it through the Bishop’s Gate quite yet.’ He was talking in jest, but although his tone was light, his brows were pulled close together in a frown. For he suspected that John Weever was referring to Hal the apprentice’s testimony that Will had bought the poisons which could have been used to murder Edmund Spenser. And the way the situation had developed so far, the only people who should have known about that accusation were John Gerard - who had sworn Hal to silence for the moment at least - and Tom. But also, it now occurred to him, it was just possible that whoever had silenced Hal more permanently might also know. Other than that, of course, whoever had pretended to be Will and given his name to Hal as he purchased the poisons would know as well. However, Tom could see nothing but trouble ahead if he broke that news to Will now, particularly as Hal had vanished, as he believed, forever. Under normal circumstances he would have talked things through with Ugo, but the Dutch gunsmith was escorting John Gerard home.
However, Tom needed to talk to someone, for there was a deal of untangling still to do, he thought. And the possibilities he had just ranged through showed all to clearly how Gordian the knot of suspicion had become. If Will had not bought the herbs and not, therefore, murdered Spenser, then who had? Who had bought the herbs? Who had poisoned Spenser? Did they have to be one and the same person? Could they not be two in confederacy? And why had the man who bought the herbs dragged Will Shakespeare into the matter?
As Cicero himself observed, quoting the respected judge Lucius Cassius, cui bono? Who would benefit? What had Spenser and Shakespeare in common that killing one and blaming the other might benefit a third party? That they were increasingly famous and successful poets? Was the benefit of their absence motive enough to motivate a competitor - Ben Jonson, perhaps, recently released from the Marshalsea and sent thither by Topcliffe himself but last heard of to be languishing in Newgate for killing Gabriel Spenser in a jealous rage immediately on his release and equally jealous of men at liberty to build their reputations while he was forbidden to do so. Would Ben dare to go to such an extreme? Or might someone like him?
‘What did he mean, Tom?’ repeated Will.
‘I don’t know, Will, but it seems clear to me that your name is being bandied about in dangerous places. The threat of the pursuivants seemed serious enough. When is the soonest you can move south of the river where you are less well known and may be harder to find?’
‘As soon as Martin Fletcher can cart my possessions.’
‘After services tomorrow,’ supplied Rosalind. ‘He rarely takes any business on the Sabbath. It jars with his beliefs to do so, but he is no great Bible thumper so he is likely to agree if I ask him.’
‘Very well,’ said Tom. ‘If your clothes are dry enough, put them on and I will escort you to Three Cranes Warf. It is on my way to Blackfriars, though we will take a small detour to High Holborn. Whither you do not need to accompany us after all, Will - for I see the assignation has slipped your mind entirely. Be quick, Rosalind. I will go down and secure the services of a link boy with a torch for it is close to sunset and we will borrowing a dark hour or two before we both get home.’ And he vanished.
‘He did that to spare my blushes,’ said Rosalind as she scrambled out of bed. ‘What is at High Holborn that slipped your mind?’ she asked as she scurried across the room.
‘John Gerard, the herbalist. He is looking into matters to do with Edmund Spenser’s death.’
‘I see,’ she said, lifting her dress off the back of the chair. ‘Will, give me something to brush off this mud with. Come on, sir, look sharp and stop trying to peer through my shift. We will sleep apart tonight. And tomorrow we shall see. I am reliably informed that things are different south of the River…’
*
‘What was that all about?’ demanded Rosalind almost the instant they set out for Three Cranes Warf via Holborn.
Tom looked across at her as he turned over a range of facts in his mind. She might be Will’s lover but as Weevil had observed, she was still Robert Poley’s creature. Though that in itself was no great matter - his own mistress Kate was younger sister to Audrey Walsingham and the pair of them were deep in the mire of spycraft. Indeed, the fact that Rosalind had worked for Robert Poley - and did so still if the bull’s pizzle of a poet could be believed - meant that he could take certain things for granted with her. Though he must never forget how careful he must be - she had slept with him on their first acquaintance, ordered to do so by Poley to show Tom how easily she could extract secrets from him during those deliriously unguarded moments. But he also felt some guilt that she was orphaned and her late father’s business ruined. Essex’ henchman Sir Gelly Meyrick fired The Crown, killed the old man and ravished away Rosalind because of an investigation that Tom had been pursuing. Furthermore, she was about to m
ove in with Will and from the sound and state of things she had best not do so blindly, unaware that someone - for some as yet undisclosed reason - was trying to put the blame for Spencer’s murder squarely on the playwright’s shoulders. And as Antony Bacon had already set some of Essex’ spies to watch her, if Will went down then so would she: down to the Tower, as like as not, and into the hands of Rackmaster Topcliffe.
‘Come, sir,’ she prompted, less than happy at his protracted silence, as they turned out of Bishopsgate Street into Wormwood, following the still pallid spark of the linkboy’s torch as he in turn followed the directions Tom had given him together with a fourpenny groat while awaiting Rosalind. ‘If anyone knows what is going on it is you.’
‘It is me. But it is also Anthony Bacon, Sir Francis his brother who interrogated you, and Robert Poley.’
‘Well, of all the alternative founts of knowledge as listed, only you are currently available. So tell me all.’ Wormwood gave way to Moorgate as she spoke. ‘You know I know that you insisted on walking home with me because you had things to share that were not for Will’s ears either as innocent playwright with his mind full of the adventures of Henry the Fifth, or as the slightly less unworldly ex-lover of the Earl of Southampton, Essex’ closest friend and, therefore, possibly a secret agent for that camp himself.’
‘A matter I had perhaps better discuss with Robert Poley after services tomorrow while you and Will are moving…’ he said.
‘To Dead Man’s Place, aye.’ Silence fell once again.
They followed the brightening light of the torch through gathering shadows as Moorgate gave way to London Wall, north of which, outside the city, Houndsditch ran parallel. Houndsditch with Hog Lane a little further north still where Robert Poley had rooms with Master and Mistress Yeomans; Mistress Joan Yeomans being his one weakness.
‘To Maiden Lane at least,’ he said, dragging his mind back to the present. ‘But there may be dead men enough placed at the centre of this.’
v
‘The first dead man, I assume, being Edmund Spenser,’ said Rosalind. ‘And I’d hazard, he met no natural end if you are involved in the matter. And so, Will informs me, is John Gerard.’
‘As you say. It seems he was murdered by having poison poured in his ear. Something the murderer was able to accomplish because Spenser was deep in drugged slumber.’
‘How so?’ her tone seemed distant, suddenly, and he looked down at her, eyebrows raised. Her face was folded in a thoughtful frown as she glanced with evident approval at the section of the city they were passing through. He recognized the substantial houses and the wider, less littered, thoroughfare. It was Silver Street, though the rooftops high above them in the sunset were golden.
‘He was being treated by John Gerard for the pain in his ear as you may remember,’ he reminded her, recapturing her attention as they went into Noble Street approaching St Martins and The Shambles beyond. ‘Gerard’s apprentice Hal made up the mixture that Spenser took last night. Moreover, either before or after he took his medicine, Spenser consumed a fair amount of strong ale, which Gerard fears would have compounded its effect.’
‘So your next move is to talk not only with Gerard but also with his apprentice Hal.’
‘Aye. But there’s the rub. I have more than one matter to discuss with young Hal, but Hal seems to have vanished and it is my firm belief that he too is dead, though possibly not murdered.’ Aptly enough on that word, they came past Newgate Jail and exited the city through the New Gate itself.
‘Young but dead - and possibly not murdered,’ she echoed. ‘I believe I need to converse with the Master of Logic over that supposition.’
So, as Snow Hill gave onto Holborn Bridge over the stench of the open sewer that was Fleet River and proceeded on to Holborn Hill and then Holborn Bars, Tom exercised the Master of Logic for her benefit. ‘Hal is apprenticed to Master Gerard as you know. It was he who prepared the herbs that Spenser took, as strengthened in their effect by strong ale. But what you do not know is that Hal also testified - to Gerard at least - that a customer bought deadly poisons soon after Spenser left and while Gerard was out of the shop. The customer was cloaked and muffled, his face invisible, but he gave his name as Will Shakespeare. What he purchased may well be the poisons used on Spenser. That is the second matter on which I wish to question Hal.’
‘But Hal has vanished…’
‘Perhaps a mere correspondence of chances for Hal was also involved in a matter that John Gerard has been reticent to discuss with me. Gerard’s daughter Elizabeth is comely and of marriageable age. Hal, whose favorite toy lies within his codpiece, is likely in love with her. But she has higher ambitions, spurred on no doubt by the elevated clientele who call at her father’s shop. She therefore visits Simon Forman in secret, asking him to draw up her birth chart in which she might discover whether she would be better suited with young Hal or with some scion of aristocracy.’
‘If Simon Forman can predict that, perhaps I will visit him myself.’
‘If you do so, you would be best to keep your wits about you and your legs crossed. He has the reputation of being a rakeshame, seducing every comely woman who comes to consult him. This explains why John sent Hal to spy on Forman to ensure as best he could that Elizabeth was not compromised. And that was a fatal mistake.
*
’How so?’
‘Ugo, John and I have visited Forman’s house this afternoon. It is a strange and fearful place. But there was a pattern that seemed to speak to me. To begin with there were no servants present and the house seemed to have been empty for some time, therefore we can assume either that the place was empty when Hal visited - or Hal waited until it was so. Then he went down the side and managed to climb over the gate at the end of the garden. The back door was locked but in the force of his desire to enter and find out the truth of Elizabeth’s situation, he broke the lock and entered. We can assume he scouted through the rooms downstairs and found nothing of interest, but upstairs was another matter.’
‘Things were different upstairs, as they are south of the river,’ she murmured.
‘Just so. Upstairs, he discovered a library in which lay a part-completed birth-chart for someone with the same name, birth date and birth location as Elizabeth Gerard. This, as well as the range of occult books beside it, must have prompted him to explore further. But I believe he took the chart, folded and re-folded it then put it in his jerkin first. The next room - Forman’s bedroom - must have undone in a couple of heartbeats all the Church’s teachings about chastity and self-control. Don’t ask why - just take my word for it. But the sight of the bedroom merely served as a spur to further exploration and up he went again. The room at the top of the house - at the head of a narrow and treacherous staircase - is the most disturbing of all. There are evidences of black magic and witchcraft there and, perhaps most dangerous of all, a bird which is apparently possessed. It speaks in clear English and its screams very nearly pitched John Gerard himself down the stair with horror that such a thing exists. Only Ugo and myself saved him. Hal, alone, would have stood no chance.’
‘So, fearful of this monstrous bird, he pitched headlong…’
‘Headlong but backwards,’ nodded Tom. ‘The staircase bore all the marks of a body falling backwards down it, trying fruitlessly to catch the banister at first, but hitting his head on the edges of the stairs as he tumbled. Breaking his neck as like as not, and splitting open his skull when he finally landed.’
‘And the Master of Logic has reasoned all this out?’
‘All this and more: I believe that Forman arrived home to find his back door broken open, a body lying at the foot of the stair leading up to his devil’s shrine. With Elizabeth Gerard’s birth chart sticking out of his jerkin marked with blood. Proof enough of who the dead boy was and why he had come hither. And could Forman be certain that John Gerard, for whom the dead boy evidently worked, might not be related to Sir Thomas Gerard the Knight Marshal? Too deep an inspection - perh
aps even by the pursuivants - would have him in the Marshalsea, the Tower or at the stake for witchcraft - even if he is friends with half the court and most of their wives or mistresses. So he lugs the body to his bathroom and puts it in his bath as he cleans the place of bloodstains. Then he bundles it down the stairs and out through the broken door into the outside privy in his garden. He has scarce completed this when Essex’ messengers come beating at his front door summoning him to attend the Earl Marshal. He takes time to run upstairs and catch up the mummified cat that should stand with his jackal and his monkey beneath the serpent and crocodile in his magic room. He nails it to the back door and pens a curse in doggerel to go above it. As effective as a good strong lock against most would-be burglars I should think. Then he’s off to Essex House as though nothing has happened - and no-one any the wiser.’
‘And whoever put him up to giving evidence against Will is thwarted of his design - unless Forman can raise the dead to testify.’
‘Forman and Chapman, thick as thieves together, seemed to discuss that very matter just as we were leaving the Billingsgate house. But they talked in code - if not in riddles.’
‘So there is more to discover there…’ she said as darkness closed over the link boy making his torch seem to burn more brightly.
‘And the man with whom to talk the matter through is…’ prompted Tom, enjoying her quick thinking and acuity.
‘Robert Poley,’ she concluded.
‘Robert Poley,’ he confirmed.
Chapter 5: The Pursuivant Marshal
i
‘Still no sign of Hal?’ asked Tom as he led Rosalind into John Gerard’s laboratory.
‘None,’ answered the apothecary, his expression and tone showing how worried he was.
‘And Elizabeth?’
‘Helping her mother in the kitchen. She knows nothing of Hal’s whereabouts either.’
‘Well, I will not disturb her now but I may want to talk with her later.’
