by Paul Doherty
'Master Daunbey,' Cornelius declared. ‘I have told my Lord of Egremont that he is to stay. Unbeknown to him I carry the Emperor's personal seal.'
'Why?' Agrippa asked. 'I thought Egremont headed this embassy to the English court?'
Cornelius sat down. 'Oh, he is here for the Orb of Charlemagne but I am the Emperor's personal emissary to his beloved aunt, Catherine of Aragon.' He grinned openly at Kempe. ‘I bring her the Emperor's most tender regards. Indeed, the Emperor has deigned to choose me, his most humble of servants, to have secret talks with his beloved aunt.'
'About what?' Kempe shouted, then his hand went to his lips as if regretting what he had said.
'Oh come, come, Sir Thomas,' Cornelius jibed. 'Your king has his secrets and so has the Emperor. Master Daunbey, would you please continue?'
Benjamin waved round the kitchen. 'Malevel is a lonely, deserted manor house. When the Orb was brought here, I wondered why it had been decided to keep it under strict security in such a place?'
'It was well protected and guarded!' Egremont shouted.
'You could have asked the King to keep it under guard until you sailed.'
'Impossible!' Egremont retorted. "The Orb was the Emperor's. It was in my care. It was my duty to decide how best it be guarded until the Imperial ships arrived in the Thames.'
'Good.' Benjamin smiled thinly. 'I am glad you have conceded that Malevel Manor was your choice. The guards placed there were at your behest. The leader of the Noctales, Jonathan, answered directly to you.'
Egremont just stared back.
'Now, this is what happened,' Benjamin continued. 'You are not a German, my Lord Egremont, you are from Hainault. You have studied in England. Years ago Von Archetel fled to England. If the Imperial records are searched I am sure it will be found that some link between you and this Von Archetel exists. During your stay in England you and he, now calling himself Boscombe, communicated. You probably have no love for the Empire or its Emperor and being sent here to collect the Orb was a temptation you could not resist. You wanted it for yourself. You and your accomplice would steal it, sell it and make a small fortune whilst the English Crown and its servants would be held responsible.'
'You have proof of this?' Cornelius asked.
'Oh, yes, we have proof, haven't we. Sir Thomas?'
Kempe nodded.
'Let's go back to when the Orb was moved here,' Benjamin continued. 'Do you remember? People milling about, then the doors of the manor were secured. What we didn't know was that you, my Lord of Egremont, had brought in your own special assassin, the taverner we know as Boscombe. God knows how he was dressed - in the garb of a Noctale or probably as one of your retinue. It wouldn't have been hard as Boscombe is a master of disguises. Anyway, he hid in the cellar.'
Egremont sneered but the shift of his eyes showed his surprise.
'Now, of course, Boscombe didn't stay there all the time. He had to eat and drink. So he made contact with Jonathan, who would accept him.'
'I don't think so,' Cornelius intervened.
'No, listen,' Benjamin continued. 'Boscombe, by birth and upbringing, was a Hainaulter. He is fluent in the tongue so he could dismiss very quickly any suspicions that he was an English spy. I suspect as well that he carried a letter from my Lord of Egremont.' Benjamin waved his hand. 'Saying that he was on a secret assignment to help the Noctales, so his presence must not be revealed to anyone.'
'Yes ...' Cornelius said. 'If this man Boscombe spoke fluent Hainault and carried a letter from my Lord of Egremont which hinted at possible treachery on the part of the English .. . Yes, Jonathan would have accepted such an order.'
'After that it would be easy,' Benjamin continued. 'Of course, Jonathan would also have received secret instructions to tell no one outside the manor house, including you. Master Cornelius. Nevertheless, he had been alerted to the possibility of treachery, and was both nervous and withdrawn as a result.' Benjamin coughed to clear his throat. 'Once Jonathan accepted that letter, everything fell into place.'
'And if Jonathan hadn't accepted it?' Agrippa interrupted. 'If he protested, made Boscombe's presence known?'
'Then Egremont could have explained it away,' Benjamin replied. 'However, Boscombe was safe in the cellar. Jonathan would have supplied him with food. On the second day, according to the notes listing the quantity of cooking ingredients used, Imelda and Oswald began to make slightly more of everything. I suspect this was at Jonathan's orders because he had another mouth to feed. Now the days passed, any reservations Jonathan had would be allayed, and then Boscombe struck. One evening, before the small garrison gathered for their supper at nine, he went into the kitchen and poured valerian into the ale cask.' Benjamin shrugged. 'Dressed in the gown and cowl of a Noctale, he would not alert suspicion and he was only there for a short while. He lifted the cork from the bung-hole and poured the potion in. Remember, Boscombe is a taverner, an assassin and a master of disguise: he'd have chosen his moment carefully. Now, valerian is a powerful sleeping drug; within an hour the entire garrison was fast asleep. Drugged so deeply that Boscombe could move round the manor at will. And if someone, perhaps, didn't drink, Boscombe a professional assassin, with surprise on his side could soon take care of them.'
'But we found corpses all over the manor,' Kempe declared.
'Of course we did,' Benjamin replied. "That's because Boscombe had all night to arrange matters. He dragged the bodies from the kitchen, placed them in different locations and then he killed them: this one with a dagger, another with an arbalest. Those poor soldiers were so drugged they would never even know they were dying: that's why we found no sign of any struggle, not even token resistance. Boscombe still had to be careful, any crash, any cry might have alerted the dogs outside. He also retrieved Egremont's letter from Jonathan's body and tidied up the kitchen. He took especial care with the blackjacks to remove any stains or odour of the valerian. He poured the rest of the ale down the privy, washed out the keg and returned to the kitchen.'
Egremont sat at the far end of the table looking down at his fingers, playing with his rings, moving them to catch the poor light.
"The Orb was taken out of its casket,' Benjamin continued. 'Boscombe had cleaned any traces of his presence from the cellar and he hid there until the alarm was raised. We broke into the house, Lord Egremont with us.' He pointed down the table. 'You, my Lord, had left strict instructions, that if the alarm was raised, the doors to Malevel were not to be opened without you being present. When we entered the manor, confusion reigned with servants and retainers milling about. Boscombe, now clothed in his disguise as Egremont's retainer, joined them. Don't you remember Egremont sending people hither and thither? Boscombe just walked out of the house, took a horse and rode back into the city. We, of course, were confronted with the mystery of how fifteen soldiers could be brutally slain and the Orb stolen, without us finding any trace of how the killers had carried out their gruesome task.'
'Except for old Castor?' I intervened.
'Yes, on reflection, the dog had more sense than us: he smelt the food Boscombe must have taken down into the cellar. In such a confined, closed space the dog could still detect the odour. In the end we discovered something else which distracted us; in digging out that corpse, we also destroyed any traces of Boscombe's stay in the cellar.
'It's true, isn't it?' Kempe taunted Egremont. 'It's true what Daunbey says? When we arrived here, both before and after the murders, your retainers were swarming about, no one would stop any of them.'
'When I met Boscombe at the Flickering Lamp,' Benjamin declared. "There was something about his face, his walk ... I was sure I had seen him before. Now I know that I caught a glimpse of him when we entered Malevel after the alarm was raised.' He sighed. 'But that is in hindsight. At the time, no one would have suspected his presence, all he had to do in the confusion was walk out of the door and take horse.'
'Why was the goldsmith tortured and killed?' Cornelius asked abruptly.
'Ah!' Be
njamin glanced quickly at me.
'I think,' I intervened smoothly, 'that Egremont and Boscombe were intent on ensuring the Orb was the genuine relic, which is why they also murdered Henley the relic-seller. Once he had validated the Orb, he had to be silenced. Berkeley was next: they had to be sure their relic was genuine before they approached a prospective buyer.'
Lord be thanked that Cornelius did not realise how many replicas there were, or the real truth behind Henley's death!
'It is obvious,' I continued, 'that a leading goldsmith like Sir Hubert Berkeley would never go out and meet someone like Boscombe. Sir Thomas didn't send him the invitation, and neither did my master. However, Berkeley would accept an invitation from Lord Egremont. The goldsmith, still observing his vow of secrecy, went along but, instead of meeting Lord Egremont or Master Cornelius, Boscombe the Schlachter was waiting. Berkeley was pinioned, taken to that lonely place and brutally questioned. Lord Egremont, of course, was elsewhere, well seen by all, whilst his accomplice was busy torturing and interrogating Berkeley to find the truth.'
'They snuffed out Berkeley's life,' Benjamin declared, 'and then they sold the Orb to the outlaw leader, Lord Charon. Do you remember Lord Egremont involving himself in that fight in the sewers? He wanted to make sure that the Orb had gone. Of course it had, sold to the Papal Envoys.'
'So the Orb is in Rome or shortly will be?' Cornelius asked testily.
'No,' my master smiled. 'By a very clever subterfuge, Sir Thomas's agents at Dover replaced the genuine Orb with a replica. Isn't that right. Sir Thomas?'
Kempe, all smug and righteous, nodded solemnly.
'The Orb has been brought back to London,' he declared sonorously. 'But, Master Daunbey told me to keep it a secret.'
'Lord Egremont, you are a traitor and an assassin,' Benjamin said, getting to his feet. 'You are responsible for the deaths of six English archers and nine of your own countrymen. Men with families, lovers, wives and children. You and Boscombe killed, and killed mercilessly, for the sake of filthy gain.'
'You have no proof,' Egremont shouted back, half rising. 'Not one shred of evidence.'
'Oh, but we have,' Benjamin replied. 'Boscombe is in the Tower suing for a royal pardon. He has told us everything, including details of his former life. He even told us where we can find the valerian he used, in a secret compartment in his chamber. He blames you, holds you responsible .. .' Benjamin looked at Kempe. 'Your men hold him closely, don't they?'
'He's in Byward Tower,' Kempe retorted. 'And has been since late last night.'
'He holds you responsible, Lord Theodosius,' Benjamin taunted. 'He even claims you forced him to do it.'
'He's a villain and a liar!' Egremont shouted back. 'It was his idea from the start!' He stood up and breathed in deeply. 'I am not a subject of your king,' he declared.
'So what will you do, my lord?' Kempe taunted. 'Ride down to the Thames and take ship to France?'
'I'll deny everything.'
'Theodosius, Lord of Egremont.' Cornelius got to his feet, holding out the purple seal. 'In my eyes you are guilty of high treason. My men will arrest you and take you back to the Emperor, where you and your family will suffer for your crimes. However, if you confess now
Egremont rose and turned his back to us, staring at the wall as if he did not want us to see the expression on his face.
'I confess.' He did not turn round. 'I confess, Master Cornelius, to save my family in the Empire. I do not want them to suffer for what I have done.' He turned and came back to sit in his chair. 'I was born in Hainault,' he began defiantly, 'and have always found it difficult to acknowledge the authority of the Hapsburgs, and being despatched here and there as the Emperor's lackey. Many years ago, Master Cornelius, before you joined the Noctales, I met Jakob von Archetel, a clever, subtle clerk. He stole a relic and murdered its owner. He was tried, found guilty, sentenced to death and was imprisoned in the dungeons of a small castle outside Dordrecht overlooking the sea. I helped him to escape. When I came to England, Von Archetel and I met again. I sometimes used him to collect information about the English court. Boscombe, as he now called himself, was deeply interested in relics. Time and again he'd talk of the Orb of Charlemagne.' He paused as if choosing his words.
I recalled Agrippa's warning that interest in that famous relic was rife amongst London's underworld. I now knew the reason.
'I couldn't believe my luck,' Egremont continued, 'when the Emperor chose me to go to England to receive the Orb from your king. I wrote to Von Archetel, who suggested Malevel as an appropriate setting for our scheme.'
'Thank you,' Benjamin spoke up. 'I always wondered, as I put the pieces of the puzzle together, how a lord from Hainault would know so much about this manor.'
'We were going to steal the Orb and sell it,' Egremont continued. 'We would divide the profits: Boscombe wanted to move on, and I decided to use the gold we earned to leave the Imperial service.'
'Did you know Lord Charon?' Benjamin asked.
'No, but Boscombe did. He said the outlaws would pay a good price. When we attached Charon in his cavern I had to make sure he was dead.' He smiled grimly. 'But your dog took care of that. And you, Master Daunbey and Shallot, who must be the luckiest man alive, took care of the rest. Ah well!' He shrugged. lSie transit gloria mundi. Boscombe was as guilty as I - the bastard should die!'
Theodosius, Lord of Egremont.' Master Cornelius walked towards him. 'You are an envoy of his most Imperial Highness. Sir Thomas, is it not true that this manor was given into our care?'
'Yes, yes, it was,' Kempe replied.
'So, in theory, we are within the Imperial jurisdiction?'
'According to all diplomatic protocols,' Kempe replied, his eyes watchful as he sensed what was coming next. 'Yes, this is Imperial territory.'
'In which case,' Cornelius pointed to Egremont. 'you, Lord Theodosius, have been accused, have confessed and been found guilty of treason and heinous murder. You are sentenced to death. I, by carrying this seal, have the Imperial authority to see it done!' Cornelius drew himself up. 'Sentence is to be carried out immediately!'
Egremont's face went white. He clutched the back of his chair. 'You have no authority,' he gasped. 'I have every authority, sir.'
Benjamin went to stop him but Cornelius knocked his hand away.
"The law is on my side.' He turned and shouted an order.
The Noctales who had accompanied him crowded into the room. He spoke to them in German, showing them the seal. The Noctales seized Egremont, plucking off his chain of office and taking off his war-belt. Egremont shouted something in German. Cornelius paused and nodded, then Egremont was thrust out of the room. Kempe made to protest but Cornelius ignored him.
'One of my men is a priest,' he declared, 'so he will be shriven and then he will die.'
He swept out of the room, and Kempe followed, with Agrippa trailing behind. Benjamin and I just sat and listened. We heard the sound of footsteps going out through the front door, and Cornelius shouting for a log to be brought from the store behind the manor. There was chattering, the murmur of voices, and then Cornelius shouted in German. This was followed by silence, cut short by the sound of a loud thump. A little later Cornelius came back into the hall. In one hand he held his bloody sword, in the other. Lord Egremont's cloak which he was using to wipe the weapon. He re-sheathed his sword and stared at us.
'Imperial justice has been done. Egremont's remains will be sent to St Mary of Bethlehem, north of the Tower. If his family want his body returned, they will have to pay for it.' He pulled the cowl over his head, pushing his arms up the voluminous sleeves of his gown. He walked towards us. 'Master Daunbey, I thank you. The Emperor will make his pleasure known.'
'You are a hard man, Master Cornelius,' Benjamin replied.
'I am his Imperial Highness's most humble servant.'
Cornelius's words were tinged with humour. 'Egremont was not a traitor,' he continued. 'He was just a thief. If I have understood Sir Thomas correctly
, King Henry would have blamed both of you for what happened and I and the Noctales would have returned to Germany in disgrace.' Cornelius took his hands out of his sleeves. 'Egremont deserved to die, yet his was a more merciful death than that of poor Berkeley.' He smiled and, leaning over, brushed some dust from my shoulders. 'Sir Thomas seems a little confused.' He grinned. 'Boscombe isn't really in the Tower, is he?'
'No,' Benjamin replied. 'He's dead. I killed him last night and hid his corpse in the cellar of the Flickering Lamp.'
'I'll go there,' Cornelius replied. 'I want to make sure the Slaughterer is really dead.'
'And then?' I asked.
Cornelius struggled to keep his face straight.
'Tonight I shall take the Imperial Orb from Sir Thomas and, tomorrow, I shall leave on the first available ship - no more of this nonsense. The Emperor will be pleased to see his great relic'
'Are you sure it will be the genuine one?' (Old Shallot couldn't resist the taunt.)
Cornelius bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
'Come, Roger! Master Daunbey, please excuse us.'
Cornelius took me by the shoulder and led me through the hall and out into the courtyard. The Noctales were bustling about; Egremont's retainers already had the bloody corpse wrapped in a roll of blankets. One groom was taking away the log whilst another was bringing buckets of water to wash away the pool of blood congealing there. Kempe, Agrippa and others of their party had now gathered under the gateway.
'You wished to have words with me, Master Cornelius?'
The Noctale led me along the side of the house.
'You remind me of my brother, Roger.' He stopped and faced me squarely. 'Though you have more than his luck. You and your master unmasked a traitor. The Emperor will be well pleased.*
