by David Field
‘So that’s how these men knew where to find you?’ Tom enquired, and Franklin nodded. ‘Must have been. Anyway, the next morning Dad seemed to have a change of mind. He seemed to think that it were something unlawful, and he didn’t want to take their money. We had a big argument, then Dad said we’d talk about it while we were on the way to the mill, because he didn’t want to wake Mam with the noise of our arguing. We got down there, still arguing, and I went to open the sluice to start the mill wheel. Then Dad started on at me again, calling me a useless lummox and a lazy bastard, and all the things he normally called me when he weren’t best pleased with me. I shouted back that he were a fat useless shit, and as how he wouldn’t have a mill business to call his own if I didn’t graft for him on wages that was fit only for a slave, and how Mam must have gone to it with a better man than him to have given birth to me.’
‘I bet that went down well,’ Tom chuckled, and Franklin nodded. ‘You’re not wrong about that. Dad came at me with his fists as usual, and I finally got the guts to fight back. I still had the sluice bar in my hand, and I whacked out with it. The first one got him on the shoulder, and when he bent forward with the pain of it, I landed the second on the back of his head, and he dropped to the ground. It didn’t take me long to work out as how he were dead, then the three fellers from the night before turned up, just like they’d promised. I told them what had happened, and one of them said something about I’d saved them a job.’
‘Well you didn’t really believe that they’d come down there to give you money, did you?’ Giles enquired with a grin, then fell silent when Tom shook his head with a glare. ‘Go on, friend,’ Tom invited Franklin coaxingly, and when he remained silent, Tom prompted him with ‘They helped you make it look like suicide, didn’t they?’
‘Yeah,’ Franklin conceded. ‘They took the rope from the wagon – the one we use for tying on loads to secure them proper – then they wrapped it round his neck real tight, dragged his body under the platform, and threw the rope over the beam. Then all three of us hauled on the rope, and Dad’s body went up through the gap in the middle until it looked like he’d hung himself.’
‘That explains why there was no footmarks on the platform,’ Tom explained to Giles, then looked back down at Franklin.
‘Whose idea was it to make it look like he’d done himself in?’
‘Them fellers,’ Franklin replied. ‘And they said as how if I didn’t keep my mouth shut, they’d tell you lot that I’d murdered my old man. Which I suppose I did, of course.’
‘You was defending yourself, by another way of looking at things,’ Tom assured him. ‘But you could have just walked away, instead of which you come up here and told us about the body.’
‘That were their idea as well,’ Franklin admitted. ‘And they wanted me to do something else for them as well, in return for them not reporting me for murder.’
‘And what were that?’ Tom enquired.
‘Well, the day after you lot found the body, I got another visit from one of them three what had helped me string it up – the big feller with the bald head and the scar down his face. He told me that if they wasn’t to report me for murdering Dad, I had to carry messages from the landlord of The Bell across the road to the house where they was staying. They didn’t say why, but I got the feeling that them three fellers was hiding there, and that the feller what owned the house didn’t want to be seen nipping backwards and forwards across the road, or talking to the landlord. He’s a very obvious feller to spot, of course – him being all crippled and humpty-backed.’
‘What, the scrivener, you mean?’ Tom enquired, and Franklin shrugged. ‘The bloke what owns that there house, anyway.’
It fell silent for a moment, then Franklin looked up at Tom. ‘I suppose I’ll be charged with murder now, and then they’ll hang me.’ Tom shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but for the time being I’m going to charge you with that, then keep you locked away down here, if only for your own safety.’
‘What about that other feller?’’ Franklin enquired. ‘You know, the one what my Dad were playing skittles with?’
‘I’ve got other plans for him,’ Tom replied, ‘but that don’t mean I’m going to release him.’
Just then the cell door opened, and the turnkey’s face appeared from round it. ‘You’re wanted upstairs, Tom,’ he announced. ‘Urgent, like.’
‘We’re finished here anyway,’ Tom advised him. ‘This man is to be kept in his cell, but well treated and properly fed, understood?’ The turnkey nodded, and Tom and Giles made their way upstairs into the front hall, where three men were standing waiting. Two of them were heavily armed – obviously soldiers of some sort – while the man they were presumably accompanying was richly dressed, although his doublet and cloak were both black, and most probably silk, by the look of them.
‘Senior Constable Lincraft?’ the man demanded, and Tom grunted an acknowledgment. ‘If I’m being arrested for dereliction of duty, my colleague Constable Bradbury here were only acting on my orders, so leave him alone.’ The man smiled.
‘I’m not advised of any dereliction of duty on your part, so please don’t make me aware of any. May we go somewhere more private, only my business here today is highly confidential.’
Once inside the constables’ room, the man took the only available remaining stool, while his armed escort took up a position by the door. He smiled as he introduced himself.
‘My name is Francis Walsingham, and I hope you’ve never heard of me, since my greatest value to my employer is to be both invisible and nameless. However, my employer you may have heard of. Sir William Cecil?’
Tom looked blank, but Giles picked up the reference. ‘Don’t he work for - for the Queen?’ he enquired uncertainly, and Walsingham nodded with a smile.
‘Indeed he does. Which means that I do also. And that is why I am here today, interfering with your investigations, but for the best of causes.’
‘Nobody interferes with my investigations,’ Tom asserted. ‘And I’m not supposed to be making them anyway, so what’s your business here?’ Walsingham smiled confidently and extracted a vellum scroll from the pouch hanging from his belt. He unfurled it and handed it to Tom, who took his time to work his way painfully down the elaborate script, then looked back up in utter amazement.
‘This here signature on the bottom. It’s just a woman’s name, but surely it can’t be . . . ? I mean, not her?’
‘Her indeed, Constable. My orders come from Sir William, who is of course Her Majesty’s Secretary of State, but on this occasion, in view of the importance to the nation of the matter that brings me here, his employer has also added her signature. On the authority of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, I want you to release Thomas Browne and the money he was carrying.’
Chapter Eight
‘Why should I release a feller what stole more money than I’m likely to earn in my whole life?’ Tom demanded peevishly, while Giles held his breath as he heard his colleague challenging the order of a man who came armed with a document signed by the Queen herself. Walsingham smiled a slow smile as he replied.
‘How do you know that the money’s stolen?’ he enquired, and Tom shrugged. ‘I doesn’t – exactly – but how can a draper what travels the road for a living have that much money on him? And why would he, given the risk of having it stolen? He had three fellers guarding it, but from what he said he didn’t have them willingly, so something’s obviously not right. And you wants him released?’
‘You are wise to be suspicious,’ Walsingham agreed, ‘and your devotion to the law does you credit. More so than many a man in your position that I’ve had dealings with in the past. But you have my assurance that the money was not “stolen”, according to the law that you uphold.’
‘What, then?’ Tom demanded, far from convinced, and Walsingham took time to consider the wisdom of delivering the explanation. The matter was a closely guarded State secret, but this man and his youthful looking colleague appeared honest and upright eno
ugh, and he needed their co-operation, if Elizabeth was to be properly protected.
‘The money was entrusted to Browne by a man in London who had come by it at the hand of the Spanish Ambassador,’ Walsingham explained. ‘Where he acquired it is currently a matter of some speculation in Whitehall, but of far greater importance is where it was heading before you took possession of it.’
‘So the money came from Spain?’ Tom enquired, and when Walsingham nodded, Tom followed that up with ‘Why?’ Walsingham sighed, and leaned forward as he lowered his voice.
‘What I have to tell you is so confidential that you will become only the third man in England to know of it. Third and fourth, that is,’ he added with a nervous sideways glance at Giles. ‘He can be trusted as well,’ Tom assured him, and Walsingham continued.
‘It was to be expended on the recruitment of an army to overthrow our gracious Queen and replace her on the throne with the Scots Queen, Mary Stuart.’ He took advantage of the stunned silence to allow that essential point to sink in before adding further detail.
‘We know that it was entrusted in London to a man in the pay of one of our highest nobles, who I cannot name, even to you. You need know only that he is a cousin to the Queen, and that it is his ambition to wed Mary Stuart. This is being encouraged by King Philip of Spain, and financed from Italy, where a wealthy noble has been prevailed upon by the Pope to supply the money with which to pay mercenaries with Catholic sympathies.’
‘All these high-ranking names,’ Tom muttered in total amazement. ‘Why was it necessary to entrust the money to a stupid travelling draper?’
‘In order to preserve the secrecy of its intended destination,’ Walsingham advised him. ‘Nobody would think to challenge a merchant travelling the country with money in his possession. But somewhere here in the north of the country, and possibly even here in Nottingham, is someone who is waiting to receive that money and distribute it abroad in the furtherance of the cause.’
‘Who?’ Tom enquired, but Walsingham shook his head. ‘If we knew that, would I be sitting here? We would simply pounce, apprehend those in the plot, and convey them to certain gentlemen in the Tower who are skilled in getting answers to certain questions. By apprehending the man Browne you have effectively stopped the game from proceeding.’
‘Sorry,’ Tom mumbled with uncharacteristic humility, and Giles began to appreciate the seriousness of the situation they had got themselves into. Walsingham smiled reassuringly and waved his hand in the air. ‘There is no need to apologise, since you were clearly only performing your duty as you understood it. But now you must do what I tell you, rather than obey the command of the County Sheriff.’
‘He wants Browne released anyway,’ Tom announced, ‘although I think there were someone else tugging his bollocks, if you’ll pardon my language.’
‘Who might that be?’ Walsingham enquired, and Tom was only too happy to oblige. ‘One of the county Coroners – a feller called Sir Henry Greville. A lazy bastard most of the time, but he seemed to be mighty interested in getting Browne out of the cell he’s currently occupying downstairs here. Since he was asking for the same thing as you, is he working on your side? If so, I’m sorry I called him a lazy bastard. Except he is.’
‘Never heard of the man,’ Walsingham advised Tom, ‘but I’d be interested to learn of why he was so interested in securing the man’s release, along with the money of course. Is he by any chance Catholic by persuasion?’
‘Definitely,’ Tom confirmed, ‘and he don’t like me, neither, because I’m not.’
‘But perhaps you can see my point,’ Walsingham replied patiently. ‘He may be seeking Browne’s release in order that the money can be distributed where it was intended. I wish to have Browne released in order that we can find out where that is.’
‘If the money’s not stolen, then I can see my way free to releasing him, like everyone seems to want,’ Tom announced after giving the matter only the briefest thought. ‘But I want them three fellers what was guarding him, because they attacked me and Giles here, and we reckons as how one of them’s been attacking girls in the town late at night. And if we let Browne out of here, he reckons as how them three fellers will kill him. And I’m inclined to agree with him on that score.’
‘I heard that Browne was being held on a murder charge,’ Walsingham advised him, but Tom shook his head. ‘he were – to begin with. That’s how we got into this whole business,’ he added, then went on to explain how they had been investigating Browne’s suspected involvement in the death of Edward Franklin when they’d been set upon by the men guarding Browne, but had subsequently learned that Franklin had been the victim of his son’s need to defend himself. Walsingham nodded as he took it all in, then had a supplementary question.
‘These three men to whom you refer – are they still at large?’
‘Yeah, but we knows where they are,’ Giles assured him as his first contribution to the conversation. ‘They’re in a house across the road from The Bell, on Beastmarket Hill. We was going to summon all the other county constables and rush the place – tomorrow, as it happens.’
‘I can arrange for that,’ Walsingham smiled. ‘Apart from these two armed members of the Yeomen Guard who are guarding the door, I have access to more royal troops at the Castle. But I suggest that we move circumspectly, so that it does not become generally known that those guarding the money have been removed from the game.’
‘You keeps calling it “a game”,’ Tom grumbled, ‘but it’s deadly bloody serious, and have you given any thought to what that’s going to happen if whoever it is turns up for the money and finds out that someone close to the Queen is waiting for them to make their next move?’
‘Obviously that will be kept a closely guarded secret,’ Walsingham explained, then his forehead creased in thought. ‘All the same, it will be regarded as suspicious if Browne has no-one with him when word no doubt came up from London that he was being closely guarded.’
‘But will them folks up here know who them fellers was what was guarding him?’ Tom enquired, and Walsingham shrugged. ‘No idea, obviously, but unlikely.’
‘So if there’s two blokes guarding him when the money gets collected, nobody will be any the wiser, will they?’ Tom urged, and Walsingham was obliged to agree, whereupon Tom looked across at Giles with a broad grin. ‘How does you fancy spending a few nights with that there Polly in The Bell?’
‘Count me in for that,’ Giles grinned back, but Walsingham raised a hand.
‘Do I understand that you’re proposing to pose as the men guarding Browne when the money’s collected?’
‘Bloody right and we is,’ Tom gushed, ‘and think about it for a minute. Whoever comes for the money will expect Browne to be guarded, and they’ll suspect something if he isn’t. And in the circumstances the least we owe to the poor bugger is to make sure that he really is protected, just in case. And,’ he added with a glint in his eye, ‘if I pretend as how I were ordered to keep guarding the money ’til it got where it were going, I can find out who it were that were meant to be receiving it, can’t I?’
‘I thought I were going to be spending time with Polly,’ Giles protested, and Tom nodded. ‘So you is, since I’ll be the one in Browne’s room, while you just keep an eye out for me when it happens.’
Walsingham looked far from convinced. ‘Have you the remotest idea what risks you’d be running?’ he demanded, and Tom smiled.
‘With the greatest of respect to your good self, have you any idea how much danger we face every bloody night in this town? I wager that you’ve never had to break up fights between two drunken labourers what just got paid, or take on a feller with a knife what’s just done his missus in. Compared with that, this will be a Sunday picnic in the Meadows.’
‘Very well,’ Walsingham conceded with reluctance. ‘But not the part you suggested about following the money. I’ll arrange for men of my own to do that; they can operate with the greatest of discretion, believe me. For
my own information, this coroner you mentioned – what was his name again, and where does he reside? I’ll make enquiries regarding his loyalties.’
‘His name’s Sir Henry Greville, and he’s obviously got a town house in Nottingham,’ Tom advised him, ‘but he’s also got a country estate called ‘Swingate”, out near Strelley, on the road into the next county. I’ve never been there, but they say as it’s pretty grand.’
With no viable alternative immediately available, Walsingham made the necessary arrangements, and in the early hours of the following morning a silent troop of royal soldiers forced the lock on the front door of the scrivener’s house and arrested all four men in there, conveying them down to the Guildhall, where Tom was ready to receive them and authorise their locking up in the vilest cells that were available down below. Then he slipped back home, and did his best to persuade Lizzie that he’d been in his bed all night. When he then announced that he would be moving into The Bell for a few nights ‘in the line of duty’, she became even more convinced that he had a secret lover, and told Tom that he could stay there forever, for all she cared.
The release of Browne was organised for the Saturday morning – Market Day – in order to make it as public as was consistent with normal practice, and Tom and Giles accompanied him back to The Bell. When landlord Ted Hollins raised a cynical eyebrow at this arrangement, Tom told him loudly to mind his own business, since he was only making it up to Browne for the discourtesy of his unjust imprisonment, and ensuring that he was not robbed during his return to the inn of his choice. Giles lost no time in advising a very eager Polly that she’d be sharing a bed with him ‘for a night or two’, and Tom and Giles settled down to await an approach being made to Browne for the money that was once again hidden in his room.
Walsingham had not been idly boasting when he’d told Tom and Giles that his men were capable of operating with the greatest of discretion. They posted themselves inconspicuously around the outside of The Bell, posing as passers-by, street traders and peddlars, and keeping their weapons hidden from view. Inside The Bell Tom never let Browne out of his sight – even standing by the door to the backyard privy when he answered calls of nature – while Giles hid himself away in Polly’s room immediately above Browne’s, on the upper floor, enjoying all that the establishment had to offer, and more. From time to time he deigned to join Tom downstairs on guard duties over Browne, who was more than content to have been released from a gaol cell and assured that he would not be charged with anything else, provided that he did as he was told.
