My head was a little fragile, it is fair to say. However, as soon as I recalled where I was, I felt considerably happier, and lay back on the bedding with a contented feeling. After all, it was a warm chamber, this. And the bedding might have smelled a little, but it was soft enough. The pillow, however, was … well, it was odd. Warm, soft, but … when I prodded it, there was a low rumble that I could feel through it.
I sprang from the bed. ‘What are you doing here?’ I shouted.
Peterkin blinked at me with apparent surprise. It was not, in his opinion, my place as a guest to complain about my bed companion. Which, when I glanced about me at the room, was fair enough. This was clearly a chamber that had been allocated to guests, but which had been commandeered some little while ago by the hound. His fur lay thickly all about. It made me begin to itch at the very sight.
I left the chamber, which was a room at the side of the kitchen, and went through into the main hall once more. There was no sign of Alice or Mark, and I felt sure that there would not be for some time. Mark, I knew, was a late riser by nature, and the idea of getting up early was anathema to him. Alice, I guessed would be content to stay abed with him. Her past career at the Cardinal’s Hat would have persuaded her to shun the daylight, and since she looked so haggard now, I felt it likely that she might be keen to keep to the shadows. They are much kinder to an older whore’s wrinkles, after all.
Not that Mark would mind. He had the discrimination of a feral cat when it came to women. Availability counted for much more than any other attribute, in his mind.
However, I had a need to be up and about. There were matters that needed my attention, and soon. Some thoughts had been raggedly meandering through my mind as I slept. For instance, why had the man calling himself Westmecott decided to come to me for his powder? If he was, as I suspected, an agent of the Queen, who was bent on capturing both Ben and his nursemaid with a view to proving that Ben was the illegitimate son of Lady Elizabeth, why had he decided to use me to supply powder? Was it only to make sure that I would help him to find his ‘wife’ and ‘son’, or was there some other reason? Perhaps he wanted me out of the way for some reason? If that was the case, I must be careful, because he had the easiest means of removing me, knowing that I had killed Anthony Seymour.
What reason could he have for wanting me to be the target of the Seymours’ ire? Could it be that the brothers suspected him of some offence, and he was deflecting their attention towards me as a shield for himself? Or had he some idea that I was a threat to him? And either way, what a convoluted approach to take, soaking my powder in water or ale to make it ineffective. How could he know how poorly it would respond to the moisture? And how did he get it wet? Was he, as I suspected, a drunken oaf who set his powder on a wet surface in a tavern, and who let the damp seep into the leather, or was it possible that someone else saw the bag and sought to soak it to prevent it functioning when it dangled about the neck of his victim?
Then there was the matter of the visit to the Seymours. Why would he go there, unless to inform them that I had killed Anthony? Afterwards, naturally, the family had sent their party to my house and conducted their savagery on my belongings. But, I hoped, had not stolen all my money. Was it safe there, if the house was left broken and open to any drawlatch with a hankering for a quick profit?
I rubbed a hand over my face. This was pointless. I needed time to think. Ideally, I needed Master Blount to help me. His mind was like a steel trap. When he was not discontented by a strange woman, he was rational and logical, whether I liked his thinking or not. But he had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me.
Alice should be safe here with Mark, I thought. She would be forced to entertain him until she was exhausted, but apart from the risk of being worn out, she was secure. Jonah, for all his moaning and complaining, was a loyal man and devoted to Mark. If Mark indicated that he wanted Alice protected, Jonah and even the drooling mutt would lay down their lives for her.
The house was quiet. I returned to the kitchen and cut a crust of bread. There was ham and some beef remaining from the previous evening, as well as a jug of the vicious wine. I ignored that, and sought a flask, which I filled with ale from a barrel in the buttery. Armed with food and drink, I settled my baldric about my shoulder, checked my pistol and thrust it into my belt, and set the flask of powder and pouch of balls to rest with the baldric.
Taking a deep breath, I slid the bolts and stepped out into the thick air of a cool London morning.
I needed answers, and I thought I knew where to find them.
A priest was holding a crowd spellbound at the great cross in the road just up from the cathedral as I passed, and I paused to listen to his depiction of hellfire and the dreadful punishments that awaited sinners as they descended into Hell.
This was quite a good fellow. He had a strong, clear voice, and the sort of youthful, dark appearance that appealed to a certain sort of woman. There were several in the crowd who hung on his every word and shuddered deliciously at his depiction of the worse levels of Hell. I wouldn’t have minded soothing a few of those troubled breasts, had I been given the chance. As it was, it was hard enough to keep my eyes from their bounties. Many of the women and men had well-filled purses which caught my attention. Well, I was a cut-purse for many months – and a good one, if I say so myself. I could dip into many a man’s pocket in a crowd and empty it of all his money in an instant without him ever knowing. It is a skill, and I was proficient, I have to confess.
There was one wayward beauty with a heaving bosom who had a most appealing sideways glance at me a couple of times, and I was tempted to go to her and try an exploratory introduction, but today I was more keen on finding Humfrie, and so I pushed through the crowds and would have hurried on, but for a sudden roar.
After the sermon, and the priest’s blessing, another man stepped forward. This was a crier for the city, and he now made a great bellow, with the important announcements for the day. And there were several, but only the one caught the attention of the crowd: a conspiracy had been uncovered against the Queen herself. A number of people had been arrested, and others were sought. Men from the household of Lady Elizabeth had been taken and were now on their way to the Tower (at this, my own heart began to beat faster, and I wondered if the woman I had been eyeing would be thinking of offering me some medicinal comfort), and among them were some fellow called Verney, Kat Ashley and Sir Thomas Parry. Apparently, there was proof that the French were involved, and their ambassador had already fled the country.
I was flabbergasted. This was terrible news! There was no mention of Blount as yet, but if his master, Parry, was arrested, it could only be a short while before Blount was also taken. I could have sunk to the ground in despair; it already felt as if the roadway was tottering beneath me, and I felt as if my reason was failing me.
Parry was Lady Elizabeth’s Comptroller, and Kat Ashley was her chief lady-in-waiting. If people of their standing were being arrested, there was little to be done. No doubt evidence of their complicity in this conspiracy would soon be discovered. After all, when they have been held in the Tower and exposed to the clever techniques of interrogation that the equipment inside provided, few men or women could withstand the persuasion. Anyone would confess just to stop the pain.
I hurried to the nearest tavern, wishing I might find Humfrie, but as I expected, he was not about. He must still be with Peggy and Ben at his sister’s house. Instead, I made good use of my time by drinking a quart of sack and bemoaning my fate.
There was little doubt that my position was terrible. My life was bound up with that of Lady Elizabeth – if she was lost, so was I. There was the other matter, too, which was that if Parry and, possibly, Blount were captured as had been said, then they would both likely be keen to use any information they could to provide themselves with a level of safety. They would use any intelligence they could think of to protect themselves. If that meant telling of an employee who was used as a professional assa
ssin, they would sell me in the blink of an eye, and deny that they themselves had anything to do with me. I could imagine Parry now, in his lilting Welsh accent, speaking of a dangerous man that Blount had engaged to go out and perform unspeakable acts against the innocent.
And then another thought struck.
I had been ordered to kill Ben. Yes, Humfrie had been most reluctant, and had said he was taking the boy to safety, but if someone else had followed Humfrie, or worked out where he had gone, and chose to remove the embarrassment of Ben, my position would be undermined. If Ben were to be discovered dead, after all, it was very likely that it would be my name announced at the cross here at St Paul’s. And there were many who would enjoy seeing me arrested and forced to a cell.
Quickly, I demanded another pint of sack.
‘Why, good day, Master Blackjack,’ came a voice, and I turned sharply, fearing the worst, but it was only Geoffrey. ‘What are you doing in here?’
‘I wanted a drink,’ I said, trying not to hiccup. The last gulp had seemed to go down unsteadily, and I was assailed by a wave of the irritating spasms. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I was passing St Paul’s cross, and heard a most interminable sermon,’ he said, and then took his seat at my side. He carried a metal tankard and leather jug, and set them on the table before sitting, leaning towards me conspiratorially and hissing, ‘So, have you heard what the criers are saying? Apparently, there has been a conspiracy, and Lady Elizabeth’s lady-in-waiting and Comptroller are arrested. It’s said they’re being held in the Tower before they are condemned.’
‘Before they are tried, you mean, and, if found guilty, then possibly condemned,’ I said. When one has been a pickpocket, one develops a regard for the integrity of the law and legal processes.
‘Quite,’ he said with a grin. But then he lowered his head again, glancing about at the others in the tavern as if expecting to see a spy listening intently. But there was only the usual crowd of tradesmen and merchants growing redder of face with every passing moment and every extra pint consumed. Geoffrey continued more quietly, ‘But this time the Queen will hardly allow traitors to escape. She has the ringleaders already. Next, she must remove their figurehead, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said stoutly, and buried my face in my tankard again. This was terrible news!
‘There is one thing, of course,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Her child must never be found. Can you imagine what would happen, were the son of Thomas Seymour and the Lady Elizabeth to be discovered? Instant condemnation for her adultery, and an instant belief in her guilt. No one would believe her word if it were known that she was guilty of treason to her guardian and had seduced her guardian’s husband.’
I swallowed. ‘I’m sure no one would find the boy.’
‘I am glad you are so sure. It would be terrible if he were to be found. I mean, the lad would suffer torture to force him to confess all he knew, and Lady Elizabeth would be tormented to think of her own son treated in such a foul manner – and then, just think of her feelings as she saw all her servants punished for what they might have known. It would be so terrible a situation.’
‘What is your interest in all this?’ I said. I think it came out rather sharper than I meant, because he sat back and held up both palms as though pushing away any allegations.
‘Me? You know my interest from my brother’s religion, I think. Obviously, I am a loyal man to those of my religion. Lady Elizabeth is of a similar mind.’
‘You should be careful. The Queen may be interested in hearing your views,’ I said sourly.
That registered. His face paled a little. ‘Don’t think me a traitor, Blackjack,’ he said tersely. ‘But, like you, I work for those who serve the true religion.’
It was a strange argument, that. Truth be told, I had no great interest in religion. I was more keen on ensuring that I kept well away from such arguments. The Lady Elizabeth had enough trouble on her plate, and I didn’t want to be yet another small issue. In fact, I would prefer to remain invisible to both half-sisters: the Queen and Elizabeth. It was never a good idea to get involved in the lives of royalty. All too often it led only to tears and anguish. I had enough on my plate already worrying about Seymour.
‘You are sure the boy is safe, anyway?’
I glanced across at him. ‘Yes. He’s fine where he is.’
‘That is good to know. If you need help in defending him, you can always call on my help.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you know where to find me?’
‘It seems as though I only have to turn around and there you are,’ I said, and lifted my ale again.
‘We do keep bumping into each other, don’t we?’ he said easily.
‘Yes,’ I muttered. I stood.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘I have some errands to run,’ I said.
‘I’ll join you.’
‘No need.’
‘I would like to. The streets are dangerous, especially now with the conspiracy uncovered,’ he said.
‘No. I will be going alone.’
‘Very well. But don’t forget I offered to help. Good luck. I hope you don’t see him.’
‘Who?’
‘Why, Westmecott. He’s the one who is likely to try to harm you, isn’t he? Master Blackjack, do you think a little food would be a good idea? They sell good pies here.’
He ordered from a young serving wench, and when two pies arrived, he made me sit and eat with him. I had no appetite, but it was not bad for a London pie, with some meat inside that could indeed have come from some form of bovine. After a bite or two I found myself ravenous and scoffed the rest, washing it down with the last of my ale. He sat back, and I leaned against the wall.
Geoffrey was a good man, I considered. He was one of the few people I knew I could trust, a man with no reason to want to hurt me or make things more difficult. All he wanted was to know who was responsible for delaying his brother’s death.
‘The Seymours – do you think they were the ones to make James suffer?’
‘I know it was not me,’ I said, burping softly. The food had helped, but every so often it felt as though the room would begin to revolve about me. It was very disconcerting. ‘If not them, then who?’
‘It does seem strange that they should ingratiate themselves with the Queen by denouncing James when he is the same religion as them.’
‘But religion counts for little compared with the other things that motivate men,’ I said. The serving wench was buxom and had a pleasingly wanton look about her. She caught my eye and smiled broadly. I thought that matters could be looking up, if her grin was anything to go by.
‘What other things?’
‘Hmm? Oh, money, women, power. Mostly money, though,’ I said, trying to wink at her. She laughed and turned away. I had a horrible suspicion she was laughing at me. It was very hurtful, if so.
‘James had no money, no woman and no power at all,’ Geoffrey said.
‘Could he have had influence over someone else?’
‘Who?’
I racked my brains. ‘Someone in his congregation? Was there a very rich person there whom he could have influenced?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Because if not, then he died to keep him silent.’
‘They killed him to still his tongue?’
‘Yes.’
‘That would be a terrible deed. He would never have betrayed a secret; he was very discreet. And besides, what secret could he have betrayed? We thought he had baptized the child. What harm could there be in that?’
‘He could have baptized the lad in the wrong faith?’ It was weak, I knew. Many children were baptized into different faiths daily, but their priests were not executed immediately afterwards.
‘Perhaps. But I keep coming back to the idea that if they wanted to keep him silent, they would have killed him more quickly,’ Geoffrey said.
‘Eh?’
‘If they wanted him quiet, they would have killed him more speedily. Why have him arrested and run the risk that he might not be convicted, if they wanted him silenced forever? Surely they’d have just stuck a knife in him and dumped his body in a ditch?’
That was a thought, certainly. Not that it was cast-iron. When a priest was accused of heresy, his fate was almost sealed.
‘You were over at Whitehall, I think you said?’ He took a pull of his ale. ‘What were you doing there?’
I shook my head. ‘I hoped to see Moll and get her away from the Seymours, but I couldn’t persuade her.’
‘So you know where they live?’
‘Yes, at Whitehall itself. They have a place on a path that leads to the river.’
‘I see.’
‘They nearly caught me, too, you will recall.’
‘You were fortunate.’
I gave an emphatic nod. It had been fortunate for me that Geoffrey had been there. ‘Yes, I was! I could have been hauled back to the Seymours’ house like a snared badger, and murdered, and no one would ever have known. I’ll bet they would have killed me and thrown me into the Thames. That’s the easiest way to get rid of a man down there.’
‘I see. And she has her son with her?’
I gave a non-committal grunt that could have meant anything. It was not until later that I wondered about him. That he had been there when Westmecott had hunted me down, that he had happened to enter the same tavern and bumped into me. It seemed a great coincidence.
But as I say, that was later. Just now I had plenty of other things to occupy my mind.
I left him in there and went out into the street. It was mayhem, with people running about, children screaming and darting in and out between cars, carts and sumpter horses. More than one oath was flung at the little brutes as they played in the streets with balls, hoops or sticks, pretending to be bold knights.
At one corner, I saw a man watching me. I confess, I do not have a good memory for faces on occasion, but he looked familiar. He was lounging against the wall as though he had not a care in the world, but I was sure he was watching me. A second fellow was at the other end of the road, as if they were waiting for something, or someone. Like a thief-taker, or like a man sent by the Queen to capture me.
Death Comes Hot Page 19
