A Murder too Soon

by Michael Jecks

  By the time I returned, Jonathan Harvey was sitting in the midst of a sea of wagging tails. Like any gentleman, Sir Henry Bedingfield was a keen huntsman and kept many hounds of different sizes. Some had lost their tails, and many bore scars from attacks by wild boars or other fierce creatures, but all appeared to share an adoration of Harvey.

  ‘There is little as delightful as a good hound, is there? A cat is an independent beast, with no interest in men as long as it gets its meals regularly. Provide a cat with food and lodging, and it will take all it can. Sometimes it will deign to sit in your lap, if it wants. It is a servant without loyalty. Like a thief, it will push its way into your home and demand attention, and in return should destroy all the rats in the yard, but rarely will it trouble itself. Meanwhile, a dog is a noble creature. Loyal, kind, always ready to do a man’s will, always determined to protect his lord’s house and table, always keen to help hunt and provide food for the household, and whenever a man wants affection, the hound is there, ready and eager. A true, honourable beast.’

  ‘I’ve always liked cats,’ I said, sipping at my ale.

  ‘That explains much. You have been seduced by the feline’s wiles.’

  I had no idea what he was talking about, and moodily sipped again.

  ‘You see, my friend, the cat is a dishonest creature. It will demand from its owner, whereas the hound will provide all in the hope that his loyalty will be noticed and rewarded. Much like good men.’

  ‘Meaning bad men are more like cats, I suppose?’

  ‘No. Often they are like dogs that are owned by a poor master. They think that being kicked and punished for no reason is all they deserve, and still try to curry favour with loyalty and honour. They are misguided in their loyalties; that is all. That is why it is important to know who serves whom.’

  ‘What is your business?’

  ‘Mine? The same as yours and Master John Blount’s, of course. To see to it that the Princess is safe. We serve the same purpose.’

  ‘How do you know of my master?’

  He peered at me over the rim of his cup. ‘Many know of Master John Blount. He is a legend in certain circles.’

  ‘You speak of him as a comrade.’

  ‘He and I have worked together before. We both serve Sir Thomas Parry.’

  ‘Apparently, you are not alone.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I explained about Atwood. ‘But you are the man Parry had told me to expect, aren’t you?’

  ‘He told you so. I wasn’t going to speak, for I was not sure he had warned you of me,’ he frowned. ‘He was supposed to keep my presence secret.’

  ‘You say the Princess must be kept safe … Why shouldn’t she be safe enough here?’

  ‘My friend, you must have heard some of the reports?’

  ‘I know that the Queen wanted to seek out all those who had put her life and throne in jeopardy, but Lady Jane Grey and Wyatt paid for their crimes, and neither could tell of any offences committed by Lady Elizabeth, because surely if they had, she would be in the Tower now, and that not for long. She’d have been taken to the field, like Lady Jane, and parted from her head.’

  ‘Aye, my friend, you are right there. But the trouble is that whereas the Princess may well be innocent of fomenting trouble, there are many others who see her as a prime candidate for replacing her sister on the throne.’

  ‘But if she refuses …’

  ‘She is a young woman. Were she to be ensnared, she might become amorously inclined. A man with a good leg, a dancer, a man of high fashion – one such as that might win her over.’

  ‘There are all too few men like that about here,’ I said. I looked down at my jack. The mud had dried now, and I spent a few moments ineffectually trying to knock the worst of it from me. I succeeded only in spreading it further. It was a mournful sight.

  Harvey gave a guffaw. ‘Panic not! There are maids here who can help you clean that. You seem to have made them friends very quickly. I saw you disappearing into the hall that first day with three of them! And while I am sure you are an eminently suitable fellow, there are others among our acquaintances who would be better suited – in every sense of the word. I merely chose to mention an example of their behaviour. This is the sort of nefarious effort that her enemies might try. They will wish to entrap her. They will send likely men to speak with her and, by drawing her out, find a means of persuading her to their ends. They are devious, these Catholics from Rome.’

  ‘It must have been one of them who killed Lady Margery, then,’ I said.

  ‘Undoubtedly. A shrewd, cunning fellow, no doubt.’

  ‘So you want me to guard her by killing anyone who goes close to her and appears to be a handsome sort of man?’

  He cocked an eyebrow and peered at me seriously for a moment. ‘I want you to protect her by all means if you see her in danger, just as would one of these hounds, were they in your boots. You have a duty to serve your master, and he wants Princess Elizabeth guarded.’

  ‘But I’m not even allowed to see her! I saw her once, briefly, during the Coroner’s inquest, and with you, but you know she is guarded closely now in her chambers.’

  ‘They will be allowing her out to walk about the courtyard before long. And she may be out sooner than that, if our plans go well.’

  ‘What plans? You mean to rescue her from this place?’

  The big priest smiled broadly and tapped the side of his nose. ‘A secret kept is a secret safe,’ he said.

  A little later, we were evicted from the hall as servants arrived to set out the trestle tables for the first meal of the day. There was a large household under Bedingfield’s command, with the men-at-arms garrisoning the place, as well as all the manservants going about their business. While the Princess remained in her chambers over the gatehouse, Bedingfield held court over the rest of the buildings and all the men who were installed here to maintain her dignity and Bedingfield’s position as her gaoler.

  It was a peculiar situation. I wandered outside with Harvey, and he regaled me with stories of his life. He had, so he said, been an enthusiastic servant of the Church, working at a small chapel in Devon until the end of King Edward’s reign. Then, with the arrival of the young Queen, he had been taken by the conviction that there would soon be fights between those who wanted to return to the old Catholic faith and those who sought to retain the new English Church.

  ‘I like the new Church. I was ever a poor scholar, and Latin strikes me as the most foolish language a man could design. Who would speak with a language which holds no word such as “the”? Besides, how can I be expected to translate every sentence from Latin into plain English that a Dartmoor marsh-dodger can understand? The peasants down there find it hard enough to comprehend English. I used to have to pick them up by the scruff of the neck and explain my more troublesome sermons with my fists.’

  Glancing at his fists, I was sure that his methods would have been most persuasive.

  ‘What led you to join Sir Thomas Parry?’

  ‘It seemed better to me to seek to serve the lady who was more plainly with the English Church than the Catholic,’ he shrugged. ‘All know that the Lady Elizabeth is her father’s daughter, whereas this Queen of ours is more Spanish. She is a chip from her mother’s rock, I fear.’

  So Elizabeth was still loyal to her father’s new Church. That was certainly the way that I had heard matters. Many men who had become convinced of the merits of the new ways were enthusiastic supporters of the Lady Elizabeth since her stand against returning to the Catholic Church, even when her sister tried to force her. There were stories that she was even now reluctantly attending Catholic Mass under pain of her sister’s displeasure. Yet most of us believed that she was not honestly engaged.

  We were sitting on the bench where I had sat the previous day, and the carts began to move towards the gates, their wares all unloaded. The leading cart was at the gates already, and I saw the porters and guards moving to pull back the bars at th
e gates and haul at the ponderous timbers to open them wide. The carts began rattling their way through. I saw Atwood on one out by the bakery. He was looking at me in a fixed, stern manner. If Harvey was not at my side, he would surely have come and remonstrated with me for not going to meet him as he had planned. He nodded to me pensively, cracked the reins, and was on his way.

  It was then that it happened. I saw Atwood’s cart make its way beneath the stone arch, and another cart was lining up to make its way through, when there was a sudden flash of dark and white, and a cry, and Harvey and I stood quickly, while a horse whinnied and shied from the small figure it had knocked down.

  From where I was, I could see the little huddled figure clearly. It was the boy, Gilbert. Even as I turned, I saw his stepfather in the doorway. He looked stricken.

  I ran with Harvey to the body, and I allowed the giant to pick him up carefully. He was stronger than me. There was a raised stone path beside the gatehouse that gave way to the steps leading to the upper walkway, and here Harvey set down the body gently.

  Gilbert was shaking. His eyes wide and staring into the distance, his brow was furrowed. A horseshoe had cut a long gash in his skull, and his left arm looked broken. His breath came in little pantings. It was like looking at an injured spaniel. I was distressed to see the energetic little boy brought to this terrible, low pass. I put a hand to his forehead, but he paid me no attention. I might have touched a statue for all the effect it had.

  But then there was a sudden rustling and commotion of a different sort. The porter bellowed, and guards and others ran to the gates, slamming them closed, while more guards appeared, all with weapons.

  Harvey held up his hands and bellowed at the top of his voice, ‘Hold! This child was run down by a carter; that is all!’

  ‘Is he dead?’ a man called, his voice brittle as though ready to burst into tears. I thought it was Sir Walter Throcklehampton, but I wasn’t sure. In the midst of the forest of halberds and lances, I couldn’t see.

  Harvey shook his head. ‘No, the boy will be fine, I am sure. But he will need a good physician. Is there anyone in the palace who has experience of bone-mending? I fear his arm is snapped, and he has a bad injury to his head.’

  ‘Yes. Bring him up here,’ a voice called. It was female and very well bred.

  ‘No! You cannot do that!’

  ‘You think he might be a messenger? Or do you think this boy is an assassin? Be not foolish, man. He is injured; he has wounds and needs care. In the chamber we have three ladies who can help him. Master Priest, please bring him up here.’

  It was only then that I dared to look up, and found myself staring again into the pale, patrician face of the Queen’s sister: Princess Elizabeth.

  This was better than the last chamber in which she interviewed us.

  I could wax lyrical about the chamber into which we were brought. A marvellous blue barrel ceiling, with gold fleurs-de-lis and gilded ornaments. I saw roses and shields high overhead. Tapestries lined the walls and made the place feel warmer than it actually was. Some areas of wall were whitewashed, and they had magnificent pictures painted on them, of red and gold and green and vivid blue. A great sideboard took up one end wall, and on it were plates and goblets and glasses of such beauty they took my breath away. Any one of those plates would have been worth a year’s salary to me when I was a mere dipper in London. The glassware was worth almost as much, for it was faultless, and I saw the light gleam through one from the fire in the hearth. It was perfection.

  There were chairs, four of them, just to show the wealth of the lady who lived here. And a table, on which were set papers, reeds and inks. There was a bible on one corner, and a small altar on which stood a cross and a rosary.

  I could not have imagined a more cosy, warm, regal chamber in the whole of Christendom.

  The boy was taken across to a long bench that had a stuffed cushion on its length. He was set down, and Harvey and I stood beside him, both of us more than a little overwhelmed by our surroundings. Two ladies-in-waiting came and examined the lad, one with a bowl and cloth, with which she began to wipe at his brow and clean away the worst of the blood and muck. The second came to Lady Elizabeth.

  ‘Who is this?’ Lady Elizabeth asked. She shushed and shooed away the superfluous lady-in-waiting, who fluttered about her like an ageing butterfly, begging her Highness to come away from the nasty, smelly little brute. I thought she was talking about Gilbert, but then I wondered if she meant me.

  Harvey knelt and bent his head, and a moment later so did I. I was forgetting my manners. Lose your manners before a Royal, and you’ll likely lose your head later. I said, ‘His name is Gilbert, your Highness. He is the son of the poor lady who was murdered, Lady Throcklehampton. His father – well, stepfather – was in the yard just now. He saw the boy fall.’

  ‘Yet he did nothing – neither ran to the boy nor attempted to help you,’ the Princess murmured. She beckoned another woman. ‘See what we can do to help this boy. There must be a bone-mender in the palace or over at the town. It is his left arm, see? It is bent very unnaturally. I would have this boy looked after. I should not wish to see him suffer.’

  While the woman began to rush about, no doubt organizing warm water and the like, the Princess came to me and Harvey. ‘I saw it happen. You were quick to go to him. I admire that.’

  She passed me a small leather purse. It had a pleasing weight to it. Two purses in as many days. Life here was not so bad after all.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘do you have any news for me?’

  ‘I have seen Sir Thomas Parry. We are both to guard you,’ I said.

  ‘Ah?’ She had a way of inflecting her words and exclamations with a slight interrogation, as though asking a fellow to elaborate. It made her rather daunting.

  ‘Master Thomas Blount was to do that, but the Coroner has accused him of crimes and has him held in a cell.’

  ‘Sir Henry Bedingfield has assured me I am safe here,’ the Princess said. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Me?’ I squeaked.

  ‘You have an honest face, even if you do appear to have been used as a punchbag by the Masters of Defence,’ she commented. ‘Come, Master, what is your opinion?’

  She walked to the side of the table on which the boy lay, sat on a comfortable-looking chair and gazed at us expectantly.

  There was a small smile playing on her lips. I was impressed to see that she maintained her calm manner, even though she must know that, as a prisoner here, her life was worth little. If the Spaniards or the Queen’s Council decided that she was dangerous, her life could be snuffed out as quickly as a candle. Yet she had the composure of a saint, sitting there with her red-gold hair reflecting the candle light, giving a healthy glow to her pale complexion. She was, I confess, bewitching and beguiling at the same moment. Oh, and terrifying. She was still a Tudor.

  ‘I am sure you have a greater understanding of the situation than a poor yeoman of London, my Lady,’ I said.

  Harvey gave me a look of contempt. ‘The Lady requires honesty, not platitudes,’ he rumbled. ‘My Lady, the fact is that the Coroner has brought a strong force with him. These new men outnumber Sir Henry Bedingfield’s, and they are more keen and experienced. Your life is not safe while these men are free to make themselves comfortable here.’

  ‘I see. I thank you for your honesty, Master Harvey.’

  ‘However, you do have some men with you here, I believe?’

  ‘I have three manservants.’

  ‘How many doors are there to this gatehouse?’

  ‘Two only. One at either side of the gatehouse.’

  ‘But it would be possible to remove you to a strong chamber up the stairs? Could we not create a secure place for you to go in the event of a sudden alarm? A room with one door that may be bolted and locked?’

  ‘I think my bedchamber would serve the purpose well.’

  ‘Perhaps we could keep the boy here, with my friend Jack and me to guard him, but if th
ere is an alert, we could go with you to that room and help guard your person. I shall go and see how best to defend it, with your leave.’ He beamed as though this was the best possible situation. He looked delighted.

  I was not; I would have protested, but the pair of them were more than happy with this ludicrous scheme, and were already discussing how best to delay any sudden irruption of men into the gatehouse. From the look of Harvey, I gained the strong impression that any foe entering against his wishes had best be well prepared. Before long, he left to fetch more foodstuffs in case of a siege, but it was only a short time before he was back harrying the servants once more.

  For my part, I hoped I did not look too alarmed. My urgent desire just then was to leave this room, go down to the yard, and thence flee as fast as my legs could carry me all the way to London.

  It was not to be.

  We were to remain in the chamber for a day. The child was calm and said nothing in the first hours. His arm was splinted and bandaged, and he lay back looking feverish. I sat near him, and the Lady Elizabeth soon had her manservants and ladies-in-waiting hurried about, taking food stores, blankets, some benches and other items up to her bedchamber so that not only would it become a stronger defensive location, but we could also remain up there for a number of days. Harvey returned some while later, and if anything his smile was yet more broad than before.

  The courtyard outside grew noisier as we prepared. I was aware of men hurrying about, although from inside we could not tell what was the cause of their urgency. Meanwhile, the ladies-in-waiting stationed themselves near their mistress as though to protect her from us. It was almost intolerable to be viewed as interlopers and potential ravishers, when all I wanted was escape!

  I sat moodily at a window seat, gazing down into the court for much of the afternoon. It was late, and I could see guards gathering, drinking near the door to the hall, some looking up at the windows of the gatehouse as though they wanted to catch a glimpse of the Princess. I paid them little heed, still sunk in my own gloomy reflections, until a figure joined me. It was the Lady Elizabeth.