I became aware that I had stopped moving. I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky with a kind of relief: I must be dead, after all. No one could have survived a fall like that. And then I realized that water was trickling on my face. It was raining.
Somehow that made me realize I wasn’t dead yet. Still, I wasn’t going to bother moving. My neck was surely broken, and the agony that would ensue were I to try to stand made the experiment undesirable. Besides, I was about to die, I thought, and as I did, I saw Harvey approaching on foot.
‘You should have let me do it quietly, as I was going to,’ he said, and there was a tone of regret in his voice. ‘You have thwarted my plans, and now you know I killed her, I can’t let you live.’
‘Why do you have to do this?’ I said.
‘Oh, it’s the way of things,’ he said. ‘Bye, Jack.’
I closed my eyes as he hefted his sword. He drew it back to stab, but I couldn’t watch. There was a slight gasp, a muffled sound like a stocking of sand hitting a brick, and I had the most awful feeling of pain, although it wasn’t in my breast, it was in my leg.
Warily, I opened my eyes and found Harvey was kneeling on my thigh. He gave me a frowning look, as though trying to remember my name, and then he dropped his sword with a clatter, and gradually slipped sideways. Even then, when he was lying at my side, his eyes had a contemplative surprise in them.
I had a sudden panic that he had stabbed me and I hadn’t noticed. I felt all over my body, gently patting with both hands.
‘He didn’t touch you, you fool. Are you going to lie there all day?’ Atwood asked in a conversational tone. ‘I’m happy to ride back and have a couple of cups of wine, if you want to stay here. Otherwise, get up! People want to see you.’
Atwood twirled a long stocking in one hand as he spoke. Rather than have him hit me as well, I essayed sitting upright.
It was not pleasant. Every limb appeared to have lost significant quantities of flesh. Those parts of my jack that had been unstained before were now showing signs of wear. There was a rip that corresponded to what felt like a tear in my breast; a thick mark of peat-like mud at the hip had ruined that part of the jack while also bruising my lower flank. All in all, I was in a dreadful state. I managed to rise to a crouch, and hobbled in the direction of my pony and Harvey’s horse, while Atwood threw Harvey’s body over his horse and bound it there. When I reached my pony, I was unable to catch it, and in the end Atwood, laughing uproariously at my predicament, trotted over and held my mount while I tried to climb up into the saddle, but it was no good. With a bad grace, considering the amusement I’d given him, Atwood dismounted, helped me up, and then remounted and led my pony and me to the palace.
As we approached the gates, I could see that the bodies outside were already being loaded on to a wagon. Five men from the Coroner’s party were picking up the almost naked figures, having stripped them of all usable clothing, swinging them back and forth, and then releasing them. As I watched, a party missed with their projectile, and the figure struck the side-boards. To the jeers and cat calls of the men on the walls, the men concerned took the body by wrists and ankles, and began to swing again.
I didn’t watch. The roar of cheering told me that they had probably succeeded, and the next pair of men were moving up with their own body.
Inside the palace, I reluctantly dropped from my horse, and instantly collapsed on my arse in the dirt. There I sat for some time, jarred and aching, watching about me. Atwood dismounted and walked to Harvey, cutting him free. The man slid to the ground, and stood there, watching everyone carefully. Atwood stood before him, smiling, his long knife unsheathed.
‘You took your time.’
It was Blount, of course. He was behind me, and I wrenched my neck turning to squint at him.
‘Where have you been? Brawling in a midden?’
I stopped the three first responses that sprung into my mind. After all, in my current condition he could kick me to London and back and I wouldn’t be able to raise a finger to stop him. And my head hurt. ‘So how long have you been using Atwood?’
‘He’s been a useful informer.’
‘And when you realized Harvey was here, you thought you could have a problem? How long did it take you to work out he was a danger?’
‘Sir Thomas Parry knew that Harvey was planted on us from the outset. It was obvious. Besides, I have my men keeping an eye on Gardiner. A fellow like that can change his coat at the drop of the wrong hat. Harvey was seen in Gardiner’s presence several times. He did have training from his time as a churchman; he could read and write, plan and plot. It seemed a fair bet that he was on the side of the Lord Chancellor. From that, it was only a case of working out what his purpose was.’
‘So you …’ My jaw was flapping unnecessarily. He had given me a sudden thought. It was clear, sharp and obvious. I shut my mouth with a snap of teeth. Through them, I said, ‘So you knew before you invited me here that there was a risk to me from Harvey?’
‘We needed you to draw him out. I had to see what he was up to.’
‘And what was he up to?’
‘Harvey was trying to ensure that no matter what, his master stayed secure.’
‘Good for him. Where is the Lady Anne?’ I asked, and when he told me, I started off in that direction. ‘Come with me.’
‘Wait! What are you doing?’
‘Seeing her. And bring the forged letter, too,’ I said.
Blount eyed me without pleasure, but finally called to the Bear and sent him to fetch it.
Groaning, swearing and complaining under my breath, I led the way to the hall. We passed through the screens and out to the other side where a staircase led up to Lady Anne’s chamber. There we stopped and knocked. It was opened by a young, grim-faced warrior with a long-bladed knife already drawn and ready. Seeing Blount, he stood back a little in a significantly less threatening manner. Blount murmured a few words, received a nod, and then he led me up the staircase to the first storey.
Inside was Lady Anne, pale, but determined.
I ignored the people of higher status in the room such as my own master, and hobbled to the stool. There I sat, feeling the cut in my buttock where Harvey had slashed at me. It stung.
I was in no mood to beat about the bush. ‘Lady Anne, the confession you gave us was a total fabrication, wasn’t it?’
She stared at me and in her eyes I saw again that same ruthless determination that had so impressed me on the first occasion I had met her.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you realized your father was in danger, and you sought to take the blame from his shoulders.’
‘I have no idea what—’
‘First, Lady Anne, you were out in the courtyard, the inner court, with your father before Lady Margery was killed, weren’t you? You separated, and he carried on towards the chamber where Lady Margery was killed, while you went to your room or somewhere else where you had business. You knew your father had been into the room where Lady Margery was discovered. As soon as you discovered her body, you thought to yourself that your father must have killed her, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ she said firmly.
I spoke to Blount now. She was not going to help me. ‘You see, her father has had a dreadful time. At first it was the Princess herself, because she is several rungs further up the ladder of intelligence than he; then her maids were appalling, because they were loyal, devoted, educated – and intelligent, too! What was Sir Henry to do? He did all he could, and in the end he took the final step of removing the chief lady-in-waiting and replaced her with a woman he thought would be more amenable to his instruction. He brought Lady Margery to take over the key duties. But then he learned that the woman was a friend and associate of Princess Elizabeth from ten and more years ago. Her family were close to the Boleyns, and Lady Margery had played with the Princess when they were young. So now, in trying to find a spy who would keep him informed, i
nstead he had installed a woman who would be ever more determined to aid her.’
‘What of it?’ Blount said.
‘Even the second necklace was given to her by Lady Elizabeth,’ I said.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. It came from that moment when I had seen her conceal her keys between her breasts. ‘The crucifix. Did you see it?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘What of it?’
‘You must have known she did not have the seal. A woman will always judge another’s jewellery. You must have seen that the crucifix lay on her breast. If the seal was there, it would have been obvious. But the original necklace would have concealed her father’s signet behind her bodice.’
Lady Anne did not argue.
‘After installing Lady Margery, Lady Anne must have been regularly regaled with stories of the intolerable woman, I imagine, and how she was making Sir Henry’s life all the more difficult. Where is the letter?’
Blount passed me the document that had been the cause of so much trouble. I tapped my chin with it, eyeing Lady Anne all the while. ‘You were quick to assert that you forged this. You said you had the seal and wrote and sealed it yourself, did you not?’
‘Well, I …’
‘Lady Anne, read it to me.’
‘What?’
‘You heard, I believe. Read it to me.’
She took it when I passed the document to her, but she did not open it.
‘Will you not, then? In that case, would you take a reed from the clerk behind you? I would like you to forge Lady Elizabeth’s signature for me.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ she flamed. ‘Why do you demand this?’
‘Because I do not think you could copy the Princess’s hand. I’m not certain you can read or write, let alone copy a signature. You never had this paper in your hand. It is vastly more competent as a forgery than anything you could produce. Your family is not fully convinced of learning, is it? Your father can read, just, but his signature is feeble at best, and he never saw much point in having you educated beyond the necessary essentials, did he? Perhaps if you were a son he would consider it, but not a daughter. What good would reading do you?’
‘I am perfectly capable.’
‘Then take up a reed and copy that signature.’
She sat with her chin high, gazing at me with those beautiful, clear eyes of hers, but not speaking.
‘My Lady,’ I said wearily, ‘you never thought of the other aspect of all this. If you were incapable of forging that letter, how much more incapable was your father? He could never have written that note himself, and even had he wanted it done, he could never have thought up so devious a scheme as producing this letter. Finally, he is not so untruthful as to seek to destroy a young woman by a deception of this nature. It is not in him to be so manipulative.’
At last I thought I was getting through to her. There was a flicker in her eye, and an uncertain look up at Blount behind me.
‘Lady Anne,’ I said. ‘If you don’t tell us the truth, it may not matter. You can go to the execution block, and soon after, no doubt, your father will follow you. But someone else has fabricated this whole situation. Would it not be infinitely better to see him punished?’
Blount eyed me as I hobbled stiffly from her room and down a flight of stairs. It was not easy going, but made no effort to help me. His mind was fixed on our conversation with Lady Anne. ‘How much of that did you know?’
‘That she could not read or write? I was guessing. But when you look at her father, can you honestly imagine that he would give a better education to a daughter than he had himself enjoyed? He never believed education to be vital. Why would he waste it on a daughter?’
‘But it is a long way from saying that to thinking that his daughter was incapable of forging a signature, and she may still have been able to read the note and make sure.’
‘She could not have murdered Lady Margery and come back so swiftly. If she had done so, her hands would have been covered in gore, as would her clothing. Yet there was nothing on her. She did not steal the seal and—’
‘Lady Elizabeth told us that the seal was never stolen, though.’
‘Did you study the seal on this letter? You should.’
‘I would not recognize her seal if it was put in front of me.’
‘Nor would I.’
‘Then what—’
I stopped him peremptorily with a raised hand. ‘If someone wished to put the blame for a letter on the Princess, how could they do so, if she had no seal? If someone wished to make sure that the Princess was accused of a crime such as plotting against her sister, they would have to give proof that she had used her seal. If the seal was lost or stolen, clearly she could not use it. But if someone stole the seal, used it and then returned it to the Princess, how could she clear her own good name?’
Blount stared at me.
‘Yes, Harvey stole the seal from Lady Elizabeth, and then put it back before the Princess noticed.’
‘I see.’
But he had not noticed the flaw in the sequence. The men who had broken into the Princess’s chambers and ransacked the place to find the seal had discovered nothing.
‘Do you want to confront her now?’
‘No! What I want is a long sleep, a physician, plenty of brandy, the ministrations of Sal or Kitty, and a rapid journey home. I want you to talk to Sir Thomas and tell him all about this. But for now, let’s go and see the Princess and Sir Henry Bedingfield and put the whole matter before them. Then, perhaps, we can all go home.’
In the great blue-ceilinged chamber we were confronted by a pair of strong youths with suspicious eyes, who gripped short polearms across their bodies ready to attack us. A third stood a little behind the throne-like chair on which the Lady Elizabeth sat.
She was the picture of elegance. As we waited, she read a letter, set it aside, and held out her left hand for the next. At one side a clerk shovelled papers into her hand, while at the other a second took the letters and installed them safely into a satchel in some order best known, no doubt, to him. She glanced up once, and then only to look me up and down with an expression of mild shock rather than disapproval.
The last letter read, she waved a hand. The guards left the chamber, eyeing us mistrustfully, and the Princess turned to us. She had the sort of look in her eye that her father would have had while looking at an unproductive and irritating wife. I imagined it was the sort of look he used to give Anne Boleyn after hearing she was sharing her bed with another man. It lacked a certain friendliness and warmth.
‘Well?’
‘You were clever to have me see your seal. It showed that the thing had not left your hands, and that invalidated the letter forged by Lady Anne. You managed it very well, Your Highness,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘The concealment. Not many noticed that the seal on the documents was genuine. Only I and my master here.’
She lifted her chin slightly. ‘I do not follow you.’
‘Lady Margery was an old friend. When her husband stole her seal from her, he snapped the chain on which it was held. When that happened she realized your seal was not safe on a cord or thong about her throat, didn’t she? She was supposed to retain the seal in her own safekeeping, but she knew that was not safe. Especially with her avaricious husband. However, she was your friend. Harvey, like most, thought it still hung about her throat, but it didn’t, did it? You already had it. Harvey wanted to create a forgery signed with a genuine mark from your seal. What could he do? He came here with me and the injured boy, and realized you might have it still. He searched and found it. He didn’t even have to remove it. Instead he sealed the letter he had prepared so that when the forgery was produced, you could be held to account. Except – fortunately – the murderer had not thought of the inefficiency – that is to say, the honesty – of Sir Henry. He might be a boring old buffoon, but he is as honest as the day is long. So he would not believe that the letter was genuine when you said it was n
ot.’
‘An interesting theory.’
‘And the only one that fits the facts. When I say that my latest injuries were caused by a servant of Bishop Gardiner, and that he was paid to see to it that you were threatened with death for plotting against Her Majesty the Queen, perhaps you will realize the narrowness of the thread on which your life is balanced,’ I said.
‘Who was this?’
‘Jonathan Harvey, Princess. A man who is devious, dangerous – and captured.’
‘How did you know, when you demonstrated to us all that it was Lady Anne who was responsible?’
‘It was a thought that occurred to me: of all those who had the opportunity to kill Lady Margery, only one was never apparently near her. That set me thinking: if I were to plan a murder, surely I would make sure that my own movements were not witnessed by others. In short, if I were a murderer, I would be as invisible as he apparently was.’
Her expression told me all I needed to know. Master Blount was gazing at me with every sign of admiration – or surprise.
I continued. ‘Lady Elizabeth, you have been duped by a very dishonest man. He gave the appearance of being a friend, I know, but he was no friend to you or to me.’
She squirmed slightly in her seat. Her eyes were very firmly fixed on mine. She gave no indication of fear, but the way she did not blink told me how anxious she must be.
‘This is your death warrant, my Lady. If your sister should see it, she will recognize your seal and signature, I am sure.’
I held the letter up, and as she watched, I held it to a candle flame. The parchment caught fire, the wax from the seal melting and running, flaring briefly, and then the whole paper was alight and I dropped it to the floor. I stopped Blount from standing on it until I was certain that it was all burned, and then I ground the ashes to dust. ‘It is done. My Lady, you must be more untrusting and suspicious.’
A Murder too Soon Page 24
