The rest of the crowd, including the team, seemed to pass without trouble and they drifted through a large hall, up a flight of stairs and into a large, well decorated court room on the first floor.
From John’s eyes, the long room was busy with activity. Aside from the relaxed, mailed army-officers seated at long tables, and the lines of servants, ushers and guards standing formerly around them; the milling crowds of men and women included chattering groups of long gowned ladies and small knots of whispering men huddled randomly throughout. At the far end of the room, a scruffily formed queue stood in front of the crowd and waited for whoever was seated in the large, wooden chair that was obscured from John’s view.
Charlotte and David stood back and melted into the crowd as John and Jake proceeded to the front and waited in the crowd to see the Duke.
Fourteen
“Do you reckon we’ll be on next?” Jake asked John quietly after over an hour of waiting.
“Brother, you are like a child!”
“They just all ask the same things, John. Trades, disputes, there’s so many.”
“What do you think we’re here for?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Where’s Charlotte?”
“She’s at the back with the short, blonde man in the bronze top.”
They slowly moved forward in the crowd until they got sight of the man who would soon become King Richard the Third. With jaw-length, straight, dark hair, he sat twisted and hunched over in his wooden throne, but watched with wise eyes as each applicant and query approached his feet. John paid attention, taking mental notes of the language and proceedings that were met with success until something interesting caught his attention.
“Dispute of land against nobility,” called the usher. “Complainant Richard Brierly attends court, My Lord.”
John elbowed Jake and they turned to watch as an audible shuffle sounded around the room. The farmer from the front gate edged his way to the front of the crowd and knelt low in the face of the Duke.
“Brierly?” the Duke asked, seeming to untwist as he finally sat upright in his throne. He tucked wisps of his hair into his red, beret-like hat, and his blue eyes gazed deeply into the farmer’s as he waited. “Well? Rise and speak, boy,” he said.
The farmer took a deep breath and spoke clearly as though well-rehearsed.
“My Lord, I am Richard Brierly. Thank you for hearing my case. I own a small wheat farm and mill to the North of the City with my family. Earlier this year, after the winter thawed, my farm was crossed by a nobleman and his entourage in their carts. My Lord, I had recently sowed the seed of my crops and the procession would have cost me much of my harvest.” He looked to the Duke expecting a response but continued in the silence that remained. “I addressed the nobleman and asked him to travel the road around my farm rather than plough through it. He refused and his henchmen threatened me.”
“I see,” interrupted the Duke. “And what happened next?”
“I explained they had no right to threaten me; that it was my land and my crops, and that they must go around. I was beaten and told I would forfeit half my land for my insolence.”
“And did you?”
“I thought not at first, My Lord. A week or so went by, and then a group of armed men arrived and fenced off half of my land and crops. They remain there still and intimidate my daughters in my absence. My Lord, I come here to beg your word to have my land returned.”
“Have your land returned...,” Richard, Duke of Gloucester said in thought. “And can you tell me again in your own voice the name of the nobleman you accuse?”
“His name is Sir William Spence, My Lord.”
A quiet murmur echoed around the room and John found himself admiring the courage of the young farmer who appeared only in his mid-twenties at the most.
“Sir William Spence,” the Duke replied, smiling. “Well it just so happens to be that Sir Spence stands in court right now. Sir William? Would you care to come through and speak for yourself?”
At that invitation, the crowd parted and an elegant looking, middle-aged man stepped through the space with his black hair tied tightly back and the light of the window catching the fine details of his tunic. He was the complete contrast to the rotten and starving farmer before him.
“My Lord,” Spence said as he bowed before Richard. “This peasant farmer approached me personally and demanded I leave his land. He approached me directly, and as my guards stood in his way, he attacked. He was blasphemous and violent, and he dared to attack a member of this country’s nobility. My Lord, I have no doubts that he would even be so rash as to assault you.”
“He’s lying!” Brierly shouted in panic. “He’s lying and he knows it. Spence, you filth! Tell him the truth!”
“How dare you raise your voice in my court and speak to a knight of this country in that manner!” interrupted the Duke again. “The land remains forfeit. Spence is to retain his rights.”
“My Lord, please?” Brierly called, stepping closer to the Duke. My Lord, you mustn’t, please?”
“Do not approach me you fool. Guards, take him down to the hold and leave him there while I decide what to do with him.”
“No!” Brierly screamed as he pushed away the first guard who went near him and punched the second. He was instantly rushed by a group of soldiers who tackled him to the floor and beat him with their gloved fists in front of the entire court.
Jake stepped forward as Brierly cried out from beneath them but John quickly stopped him with a hand. Spence caught sight of the movement and raised his eyebrows as his eyes met with John’s. He tilted his head to the side in mock question then smiled slyly as John looked away.
Brierly was dragged away as the Duke slouched back into his crooked position and met Spence’s eye.
“Bloody peasants,” he said over the shouts and grunts fading into the distance. “You are dismissed with thanks, Sir William.” Bowing his head, Spence backed away smiling and faded through the crowds to where he had come from.
“Rougemont!” called the usher suddenly, making them jump.
John and Jake approached the Duke and both knelt on one knee, bowing their heads low before standing again to speak.
“My Lord,” said John. “I, Sir John de Rougemont and my brother Sir Jake de Rougemont travel from the eastern borders of France where our family has lived and developed since the reign of King Stephen. We are Englishmen, My Lord, and we come to develop our relationship with the Royal Court of London and with our fellow English noblemen.”
“I see,” said the Duke. “Well, welcome to England and to London, Sir John. Being born into the nobility you have status here. But tell me, why should I be grateful to receive you in my court? What can you do for me?”
John didn’t hesitate in answering while Jake continued to look at the feet of the would-be King.
“My Lord, my brother and I have kept peace in Eastern France and its borders for our whole lives. My brother in particular is an extraordinary swordsman and is extremely skilled in empty-handed combat. We command many soldiers under my house, and we would fight for you tomorrow if requested.”
“I see. And what if I had a disagreement with France? Could I trust you?”
“We are Englishmen, My Lord, and we are from the far reaches of the country, north of the Alpine mountains; far from the French King and his armies. It is time for us to come home.”
The Duke watched them with interest for a moment and nodded to himself.
“What can you do for my country, gentlemen? How can we benefit from you?”
Charlotte bit her lip from the back as David shifted uncomfortably next to her. John spoke as though only he and the Duke were in the room and she was awestruck at his confidence in role. It was as though he had no idea the entire room watched keenly and silently behind him as he spoke on with Jake respectfully as still as stone beside.
“There are great delights developing where we travel from, My Lord. The areas surrounding us in Jura and Cha
mpagne have some of the finest grapes and wines in the world. The trade routes that span north of the Alpine mountains but never reach these shores deal with the most remarkable silk and wool you will find. The development of the pocket timepiece is in advanced stages through both Switzerland in the East and Burgundy to the South. With a communication fixed to the French mountain borders from here, we can bring trade through our associations in all of these products.”
“Very well, Rougemont,” the Duke said kindly. “I see from your own garments, you have access to fine material and tailoring. Welcome to my country and my court.”
John and Jake bowed deeply and backed away, relieved. Heading back through the crowd, they side-stepped their way through as all eyes turned to them and almost made it back to Charlotte and David when they were stopped by a large man with a thick, dark beard that almost completely obscured his mouth when he spoke.
“Sir John, Sir Jake,” his booming voice announced as he extended his hand and the noise grew loud again around them. “Lord Edmund Courtridge,” he added. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us.”
“It’s a pleasure to be here,” said Jake.
“Is it really?” Courtridge asked. “This country is undergoing changes as we speak. It’s very odd that you just, turn up now.”
“Yes, well now was right for us, but thank you for your curiosity.”
“I see. Well I’ll see you both,” Courtridge said, smiling as he turned his back on them and walked back to his small group of men.
Jake watched him move as the crowd parted for him and he caught the eyes of Sir Spence in his group as he did so. The dark-looking knight fixed Jake with a discerning glare and smirked viscously as they watched each other for a moment.
“Come on,” said John quietly, urging Jake away. “We’ll get to see them again.” He lightly tugged his young colleague’s arm and they continued on through the crowd to Charlotte and David.
Fifteen
“That was fantastic!” Charlotte squealed as they stepped into their apartment. John smiled back and put his arm around Jake in relief. They’d bitten their tongues for the entire walk north of the Tower and each let out a huge sigh as they finally locked the door behind them.
“Come on then, tell me all about it,” Chris said, excitedly, completely unaware of all that had happened.
“John nailed it, Chris,” she replied. “He got us into the castle and dazzled Duke Richard with tales of ‘men and riches from the east’! We’re in the court, mate, and we can get to work.” She grinned at Jake who smiled back affectionately before turning more serious.
“But what now?” he asked. “It’s not exactly an ideal intro, is it? Courtridge is suspicious of us and that Spence is a villain who’s got an issue with me already for some reason. Convincing them to even like us isn’t going to be easy, let alone trust us and let us into their plan.”
“That’s why we’ve got the best agent in the military! We’ll get there, I’m sure of it. We’ll just have to change their minds.”
“But this is medieval treason, Char. They know what’s at stake here and it’s not a ten-stretch in Pentonville or even twenty in the Bangkok Hilton. It’s the murder of all their families, forfeiture of fortunes, and torture of every body-part before a painful, public execution. It’ll take forever to crack into those two.”
“Not necessarily. I reckon you’ll be in tonight.”
“Yeah cheers for the vote of confidence, but we have to be serious.”
“I’m not joking, asshole,” she replied with sufficient defensiveness to get John’s attention.
“Go on, Charlotte,” he said. “Tell us what’s happening. What have you done?”
“You told us to network? Well we did,” she said smiling, knowing she was going to impress them. “We got talking to a short bloke while you were waiting.”
“Bronze top?”
“I’d say copper, but yeah that’s him, the chap with the blonde hair.”
“Samuel de Lyons? How can he help?” asked David who’d been with her throughout the meeting.
“His dislike of Spence was clear, yet he was an associate of Courtridge’s. I think we can use his dislike to get into him and on into Courtridge.”
“He didn’t seem to know him any better than anyone else,” David said, looking confused.
“Well he wouldn’t, would he? Chris, pull up my pictures from yesterday would you?” Chris’s fingers whipped around his ten-inch screen as he found the files and handed the tablet back. As the shots appeared in front of them, Charlotte took control and quickly scrolled through the thumbnails in concentration.
“Ah, here we are,” she said, enlarging one picture. “Here is our new friend Samuel de Lyons.”
“Oh look at that,” John replied. “Sammy with our friend Edmund, they look pretty close.”
“Pretty close? That’s an important meeting if ever I saw one,” Jake added. “So he’s in with Courtridge. Ok, we’ll try to use him if he’s sweet on you Char.”
“Close with Courtridge?” Charlotte mocked. “What’s wrong with you men?” she exclaimed, gaping at their blank faces. “Look what he’s holding!” She rolled her eyes as they squinted at the scene together until slowly, one by one, light dawned in their eyes.
“The diary,” John said. “That’s the bloody diary!”
“Finally!” gasped Charlotte. “I saw him with it yesterday and snapped away. I didn’t know who he was, but then he met up with who we thought was Mr Courtridge and I got a few pics!” She sat back smiling as they beamed at her, impressed. “I know, I know. I’m a genius.”
“Charlotte, you’re a diamond,” said John. “Thank you, thank you. Your work has given us a great lead. Now all we need to do is get back to the court and get chatting. We’ll look for him in town in the meantime and...”
“Hang on,” Jake interrupted. “Miss Genius over here said tonight.”
They glanced around as Charlotte sat grinning at her little game.
“Charlotte?” John asked. “Come on...” he teased.
“Ok, just before we left, I’d gotten to chat closely with Samuel. We talked about our relocation to London and nice places to live here. We talked about where he lives, and well, he described to me how to find it. We can go round there tonight!”
“Well I am impressed,” John said, “but we can’t just go round there out of the blue.”
“But we must. I can’t lose my grandmother’s locket,” she said smiling and David gasped in memory.
“You sneaky little minx,” he exclaimed. “I wondered why!”
“Why what?” asked Jake.
“I let him look at my locket as you came over. Then I left quickly without getting it back.”
“You’ve been planning all this without us?” John asked, grinning.
“You had enough to worry about.”
“You really are a genius,” Jake finally said, hugging her tightly, “a genius!”
“David you seriously cannot ever tell me this smells good!” said Jake as he tiptoed through the overflowed cesspool he’d wandered into walking through the south end of Islington towards the home of De Lyons.
“It stinks of shit,” Charlotte agreed.” Just stick to the middle and away from the windows.”
“Great, gonna get slop poured on my head am I?”
“Yes,” said David seriously.
Although the sky was still a light blue, the shine had gone as the late summer evening faded and the high, narrow pass between the buildings became dim. Staying just north of the city, they hadn’t walked far before they came to the street De Lyons described in Islington. Approaching a hill that Samuel had gone into detail about with Charlotte; she, Jake and John stopped still and looked across the road.
“A white-timber town house with two wide, black doors. Rather unique for this day and age!” she recited in the exaggerated upper class tone of Samuel himself.
“That’ll be it there then,” Jake said, looking at a crooked and rundown
two-storey terraced house with a dangerous looking first floor overhang and large double doors in its centre.
“Quite the city townhouse,” she said, smiling.
Glancing together, they approached the door and knocked once, standing back as a shutter slid open revealing a small hole and a shadow behind it. Not a sound was made as the three of them stood there nervously waiting until an audible sigh of recognition sounded from inside and the shutter was closed again. The sound of hidden bolts and beams being removed echoed through the door before it was finally opened and the short statured Samuel De Lyons stood smiling in the doorway.
“Mademoiselle Du Lac? What a surprise!” he said; clearly forgetting his state of undress.
“Mr De Lyons,” she replied in a tone of embarrassment to portray her proposed class. “You appear rather dishevelled, Sir,” she added, shielding her eyes from his un-tucked shirt and uncovered hose.
Gasping and looking down at himself, he nervously stepped back and stood half hidden by the door in the dim light.
“I’m sorry, Miss Du Lac. Forgive me,” he said, nervously. “So how are you?”
She feigned embarrassment again as she stood aside letting Jake step into view.
“Monsieur, you should not address me without first addressing my husband to be. And we are all rather chilly out here.”
“Oh dear, my apologies. Sir John, Sir Jake, welcome to my home. Please, all of you do come in.”
Jake and John both bowed their heads gratefully and stepped in smiling.
“Thank you, De Lyons. We are grateful,” John said, kindly.
“Please, call me Samuel.”
“Very well, Samuel. You may address us as John and Jake.
“Now,” Jake jumped in. “Would you mind dressing more appropriately in front of Miss Du Lac?”
With a face of clear horror and shame, Samuel nodded and stepped away, turning to offer a look of apology to Charlotte who winked back reassuringly and made him smile.
The Tower Grave Page 10
