by Paul Walker
‘Is there a problem, William?’
‘It is from Doctor Dee’s wife at Mortlake, Jane Dee.’
‘Has she more to say about Kelley and Millen?’
‘No, it is a simple message with the words, “fire and attack” written. She begs me to attend with haste.’
*
It is late to travel to Mortlake and the sky will be dark for my return journey. I travel alone, ignoring Gregory’s plea for his company and John’s advice to seek an escort from Askham. The tone of the note is disturbing and I feel obliged to call on Jane Dee as quickly as I am able. I am prepared for fire damage to the house, but what can she can mean by ‘attack’.
As soon as I leave the ferry on the south bank of the river, I view wisps of smoke in the air. My mind may play tricks, but these gentle curls of grey do not suggest a cosy hearth, but something more sinister. I see that the house stands. As I draw nearer I note that a chimney is fallen. The bricks on the east wing are blackened and the roof… the roof is gone, save for a few charred timbers. A yeoman or servant carries a bucket of water from the back of the house and throws it through a hole that was once a glazed window. He stops as he sees me. I dismount and ask where I may find Mistress Dee. He nods his head dumbly and points to the house. I ask if the stables are in use. Again, he does not answer, but offers to take my reins and leads Cassius away.
The door is not shut. I knock, enter and raise my voice to call her name. The smell is pungent and catches the back of my throat, causing me to cough and leave my announcement unfinished. The air is thick and the whitewashed walls are greyed. The main damage is to my left, so I turn to my right and try another door. It is blocked. An object behind stops a full opening. I push a little harder and squeeze my way into the chamber. The fire has not reached here, but the windows are broken with bricks and other objects scattered on the floor. A table has been moved to hinder entry and a large wall hanging has come loose and droops at an odd angle.
I call Jane Dee’s name again and wait. Minutes pass before there is a scratching sound at the far door, it begins to open and head peers around the gap. It is a woman’s uncovered head, hair uncombed and with face disfigured by… It is Mistress Dee.
‘My lady, you are hurt.’
She enters slowly, brushing her hair and skirts with her hands. The left side of her face is heavily bruised, her lip is split and dried blood is stuck to her chin and neck.
‘Doctor Constable, thank you for answering my note. There was…’
‘In good time, Mistress Dee, I will attend to your injuries before you tell me more. Is there water to be had?’
There is a trough and well at the rear. She says she will retreat to her refuge in the parlour and wait for my attentions. I walk from the front of the house around the perimeter looking for the man who took Cassius. There is no sign of him, although I see that Cassius is safely stabled. His head is over a closed stall, but all the other stalls are open and the horses gone. I fill a bucket from the well and return to the parlour to find Jane Dee sitting on a stool with head bowed and hands clasped on her knee. I dampen a square of linen and rub gently at her cuts and bruises. She has a small gash on her scalp and a worse one on her lower lip, but they are clean now and have started to close. Her head is sore, but there appears to be no lasting hurt.
‘The library is gone,’ she exclaims. ‘My husband will be enraged by the loss of his valued books and papers.’
‘Hush now, Mistress, tell the story from the beginning. What happened here?’
‘It was some time after dusk. A commotion at the rear of the house. There were men; four or five men with flaming torches.’
‘Who were these men?’
‘They were armed men, with swords and cudgels. They came into my house, chased away my servants and…’
She is breathless and sobbing. I place my hand on her shoulder.
‘Where are your servants and attendants?’
‘Gone – all gone under threat not to return.’
‘What of the man who took my horse?’
‘He is a simple man with no tongue. He is named “Cluck” I think as a jest on his disposition. Perhaps he did not understand the stern nature of the threats.’ She catches her breath. ‘John, our man of horses, tried to resist and he was… he was killed.’
‘Killed – how killed?’
‘His throat was slashed by a large, hooded man. I saw the blood spurt from his neck.’
She cups her hands over her face and rocks gently as she heaves and sobs. I hold my question until her distress subsides.
‘How were you injured?’
‘Part of the house was burning. A torch was thrown through a broken window. I ran inside, took hold and extinguished it in the trough outside. One of the men cursed me and hit me about the head, until… until the large man pulled him away.’
‘Did you hear them say anything other than curses or threats?’
She shakes her head. ‘Nothing, nothing I can recall.’
‘Did they thieve any possessions from your household?’
‘I have not moved far from my parlour, but I do not think their purpose was theft. Their work was done in a short time, thank God. They were unhurried and departed in evil good humor.’
‘Did others come from the neighbourhood to help you?’
‘There was me, Cluck and three or four more came later to help to quench the flames. All seemed lost until the rains came.’
Fortunate is not an appropriate word to utter at this time, but the house would surely be gutted without rain. Why would they wish to terrify Jane Dee, fire the building and frighten away the servants? And a murder. Is it retribution or a warning? A warning for who – Jane Dee, the Doctor… or me?
I say, ‘Did you recognise any of the attackers?’
‘It was dark, they were hooded and it was… too much of a confusion to recall. The large man… I did not see his face, but he had the shape and character of one who met with Edward Kelley.’
‘Has word of this criminal and malevolent act been sent to the local justice, watchman or constable?
She shakes her head. ‘I dared not shift from my parlour and I do not know these persons.’
My questions are done and I must see to her comfort. She cannot stay here, but there is no horse for her and it will soon be dusk. I stand and pace the room, gathering my thoughts. She looks to me for encouragement. There is an inn, a few hundred yards from here in the direction of the ferry. I will go there and ask for a man to carry a message to Askham. Gently, I explain my plan to Jane Dee. She has a look of panic as I tell her I must leave for the inn, but she is pacified knowing I will return to her in short time.
The sun is down and the door at the inn is locked. It is a small, mean-looking place and I guess that there will be a cold welcome for a stranger. I knock hard and wait. The door opens a little and someone peers out. This is no time for timidity; I push hard and enter. A short man at the door staggers back and narrows his eyes. There are twenty or more men sitting at benches or leaning against beams. The smell is of animal waste and rotting hay.
‘Good day to you all. I require one among you to deliver a message this day. The one that steps forward will be well rewarded.’
The inn is silent. Some men stare at me, while others look into their ale.
I say, ‘There is silver in it. The message is to Whitehall.’
The man at the door answers, ‘Tis dark and no ferry.’
A few begin to grumble and I hear muttered curses. The room turns against me.
‘I am sure the ferryman can be persuaded with coin, and if you fear the journey in the dark I will pay for two to carry the message.’
Three men rise from their benches and one reaches inside his coat. My mention of silver was foolish. They see I have no sword and plan to rob me.
‘I am Walsingham’s man.’ The name slows them. ‘It will go hard on you and your families if you choose to ignore my generous offer.’
They are stil
led. Two of the men regain their seats; the third gazes around him, then faces me and says, ‘I will take your message, for a shilling. I am Michael the smithy and my friend Walt will accompany me.’ He nods in the direction of the man who rose and put his hand to a weapon under his coat.
‘You can have sixpence now and another sixpence the next morning when I know the message is well-delivered.’
I hand over my note, which is folded over a sixpence coin, and tell him that it must be delivered to Captain Askham before midnight. His look is surly, but mention of Mister Secretary has tamed him. He takes the note and assures me that he will complete the task. I have little choice, but to trust him.
Fifteen
How shall I pass this night with Jane Dee? She will not move from the parlour. Her bedchamber is badly damaged and she will not sleep in another. I cannot leave her and so we must spend the night together in this small place. It would be unseemly in normal circumstances, but my presence would surely be forgiven at this unsettling time.
The larder is untouched by fire and I bring cheese, apples and a jug of claret to the parlour. She sips the wine, but will not touch the food. She breaks the quiet between us by begging forgiveness for sending the note of distress to me. Her mother lives by the town of Lincoln and she knows no other in Mortlake or the City that she could have asked for assistance. She has been married to Doctor Dee for less than one year and has ventured from this house only rarely. I do not speak the words, but this is too mundane a life for a young woman with good family.
‘Will the man Cluck, stay here this night?’
‘He sleeps in the barns and will guard the body of his friend, John the stableman.’
She pulls a rug around her shoulders to protect from the cold draughts. I lift glowing embers with an iron poker and place two more logs on the fire. Her injured face is softened by the light of candles and the flames of the fire, but it will take some weeks for it to heal and the scar on her mind will remain for longer. I hesitate to question her more about the attack, but we cannot spend these hours in idle talk.
‘When those foul men attacked, do you think their purpose was to destroy the entire house?’
‘Perhaps, but their attention was fixed on the library at the start. Windows were broken with heavy sticks and three torches flung in there.’
‘I wonder how those men knew where the library is situated.’
She shakes her head and says, ‘Who would want to ruin my husband’s library? Does he have many enemies, Doctor Constable?’
‘I know he has many admirers, Mistress, and a few that envy his intellect and collection of books, but I doubt that they would stoop so low for that reason.’
‘My husband will be distraught,’ she begins to sob, ‘as will Master Millen.’
‘Master Millen, why should he be so distressed?’
‘I think I told you, Master Millen was here often to work in the library and not only to visit Master Kelley. When my husband left for the Low Countries he came to continue his assistance with the Doctor’s work in the library. He was pleasant enough, save that he was quite particular that neither I nor the servants should enter the library while he was away. He warned that the Doctor would be displeased if important writings were disturbed. I disliked his manner when he spoke of these things.’
‘Did Kelley work with Millen in the library?’
‘I do not think so. Master Kelley was often away visiting his patrons and while he was here he had his own chambers where he…’
She bows her head and leaves her dialogue unfinished. Perhaps she thinks of his scrying, communion with angels, or is that the place he molested her?
I say, ‘Did it appear that Millen and Kelly were on good terms?’
‘They were polite in their exchanges, but I do not believe they were particular friends.’
I am not sure where this intelligence leads. I had assumed that Kelley and Millen were confederates, but perhaps it is only Millen that warrants further examination. Her eyes are closed and she startles herself awake with an involuntary lurch of her head.
‘Come, Mistress, make yourself more comfortable and rest your eyes. I do not believe there will be another attack tonight and I will remain awake here until our escort arrives. As we are sat so close together in these circumstances, may I call you Jane? For my part, I would be glad if you would call me William.’
‘Very well, William, and thank you.’
I place a stool under her feet so that she can ease back in her chair. She is soon asleep and I am left to tend the fire and structure my thoughts. Time passes slowly, lethargy takes hold and have to fight so that I may stay awake. I find it is images of Helen that keep my mind most active.
*
At first light I leave the parlour and make to the rear of the house. It is cold, with a hoar frost. Thin layers of ice have formed on the puddles in the back yard. The fresh air is welcome after my overnight confinement. I breathe deeply and flex my shoulders to refresh body and spirit. All is quiet save for my footsteps. Cassius is in his stall, standing with head drooped in the far corner. He turns his head with only small curiosity at my presence.
A trail of blood leads from the yard to the neighbouring stall where the half-door is shut. I look over and see Cluck on a bed of straw. He has heard me and is sat, with a length of wood in a raised hand. A threatening snarl dissolves as he recognises my face from last night. He lies next to a body of a man; presumably this is John. A gaping black wound in the neck is confirmation of Jane’s sight of the killing.
I am at the front of the house when Askham and his troop of a dozen mounted men arrive. A pale sun has banished the frost and the road has a regular trade of carts, horses and yeoman passing by. Some stop and stare at the damaged building, while others bow their heads and continue on their way. There will be some among them who harbour shame for failure to assist a neighbour in the commotion two nights past.
‘A good morning to you, Captain. I thank you for your prompt answer to my note.’
He dismounts and casts a quick eye at the house. ‘What happened here? Your note spoke of an assault on property and occupants.’
I convey my understanding of the events of last night: the fire; chasing away of servants; the killing; and the battering of Mistress Dee. I explain the significance for our enquiries in the targeting of the library and my suspicion that this was to destroy the writings of an astrologer, named Christopher Millen. This is a great leap in understanding and the evidence is thin, but I can bring no other motive to mind.
I say, ‘There is work to be done. The local justice and constable should be informed and I must take Mistress Dee to a place of safety.’
‘Where will that place be?’
‘I will take her to West Cheap, although I hope this will be a short arrangement.’
Askham orders his men to spread around the perimeter and secure the house. I take him to pay his respects to Jane and then show him the body in the stable. Cluck has gone and I suspect he hides somewhere with a view of our activities. I describe Cluck to Askham and tell him that he was not an attacker, but a helper; that he is simple, dumb and will not be able to assist our enquiries.
Our next duty is to inspect the library, or its remains. It is a filthy and hazardous exploration. The roofing has gone and it is open to the elements. Two charred beams cross over our heads as we pick our way through blackened scraps made foul by a dousing of water. My spirits are low as I gaze around the ruins of what was so recently one of the finest collections of books in England. Odd fragments of paper flutter and a few leather bindings have resisted the flames, but their contents are corrupted. Askham says that he will have his men recover what little can be salvaged, but neither of us hold out hope of a serviceable discovery.
Four men are assigned to escort me and Jane to West Cheap, while Askham settles necessary arrangements in Mortlake. He is angry that there has been no contact from the justice or constable and assures me that they will be strongly reminded of the
ir duty to uphold Her Majesty’s law.
*
It was a quiet, plodding journey from Mortlake to West Cheap. Jane covered her head in her cloak’s hood, which made for difficulties in conversation, but I understood that she did not wish prying eyes to see her injured face. My description of the West Cheap household was met with small, indistinct murmurs of understanding, but no more.
On our arrival I offer a hurried explanation to Mistress Hilliard, who takes Jane to settle in her chamber. Hicks is away, but Harry Larkin is about and I bid him take Jane’s baggage. I do not know what clothing or comforts she has packed, but her baggage is light and I suspect that another visit to Mortlake will be required to replenish her stock.
I should call on Mother, but John has appeared with questioning face and we retire to his study chamber so that I can relate the story of last night. He offers God’s blessing for the man killed and expresses his sympathy for Jane’s hurt, but his main concern is the library and books.
He asks, ‘How many volumes were lost?’
‘Ten years past, Doctor Dee had almost five hundred books in his library, so now it would be more.’
He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. ‘It is a great shame to lose such a compilation through an act of wilful destruction.’
‘The library was the target of the attackers; Millen worked there often and gave warning that Mistress Dee and others in the household should not enter and disturb its contents. It is too much of a coincidence to suppose that Askham’s search for Millen is not connected.’
He nods his agreement. ‘So, you believe that Kelley may not be linked to this act, or may have only a minor role in the plot?’
