A Murder too Soon Page 23

  It was dark. They had only recently thrown some fresh logs on the fire, and the smoke billowed into the room as I opened the door. A number of men coughed meaningfully as I stood in the doorway, but the conversation returned as I made my way across the room to the bar area. There was a young maid with a face rather like my pony’s, who was filling leather pots with beer, and I waited quite patiently while she laboriously turned the tap on the barrel for each one. Someone must have advised her against spilling beer, because she took enormous care over every pot, and I found myself glancing around the room with casual boredom as I waited. Usually, I would have leched over the maid’s arse as she bent, but today I had other things on my mind.

  The smoke was beginning to clear. There were men at many of the tables, although the area that had been taken up by Parry’s men was singular by their absence. It seemed as though the locals dared not move in and take over that part of the inn, or perhaps it was that the people who lived here had gone to the same tables since time immemorial, and when Parry arrived, he and his party were forced into the only corner that was deserted. Even now, there were no more than three men there. Two sat with their backs to me. The third was leaning back, and seemed interested in me.

  He looked familiar. I put it down to the fact that he was with Parry’s band and thought no more of him, especially since the maid had finished serving her pots and was gazing at me expectantly, rather like a pony seeing a carrot.

  ‘I’ll have a pint of beer,’ I said. She turned and went through her careful manoeuvres again, and I watched while the thirst peaked and had me almost dribbling. Yet all the while I was seeing Bedingfield’s face as his daughter spoke, how she went so pale as she told of her plan, and how the Princess’s face sharpened with her attention. It was a trio of melancholy, I thought.

  By the time the barmaid had set the pot on the bar, I was so thirsty that it was hard not to snatch it from her. I picked it up, and as I raised it to my lips, something jarred my elbow and a quarter of my pot was thrown all over me.

  Furious, I turned to face whoever had knocked me, and then froze.

  ‘Hello, Jack,’ Thomas Falkes said.

  Now, I know that many, being confronted by the cuckolded husband of the light-heeled maid you’ve been regularly spurring to a gallop, would throw the rest of the beer in his face and take to their heels, but it’s not that easy, you see. I ran through that possibility in my mind in an instant. First, I knew he had two fly characters with him, and who could say whether they were faster than me or not? Then again, my pony was somewhere with the stableboy. The damn fool could have had the saddle off by now, which meant I would have to forgo the pleasure of a four-legged assistant and hope to make my way alone. That was unlikely to guarantee my safety, since they could leave one man here to get a horse readied while the other pair could continue to chase me down. It was not a pleasant consideration, I assure you, but it was better to remain inside a large inn than tempt fate by walking outside.

  So I smiled coolly instead. ‘Master Falkes. I hope I see you well, sir?’

  ‘I am very well, Master Blackjack. Why, how strange to find you here. Any man might think you were trying to avoid me.’

  ‘No, not in the least,’ I said, trying to sound loftily disinterested. ‘I have been kept busy.’

  ‘Really? Even without my woman, eh?’ he said, and jabbed an unfriendly elbow into my flank. I refused to react, beyond a mild hiss.

  ‘Aren’t you going to buy me some beer, then?’

  I smiled thinly at that, but there seemed to be little chance to refuse. The maid soon had three more pints set out, because the blasted man demanded refreshment for his men too.

  They all knew. It was in their eyes. They were going to drink my purse dry, and then outside I’d be gutted and left for the ravens. I’d seen it all too often before. There were no friends of mine in the tavern, nobody I could call on for help in escaping them. All I needed was the time to fetch a horse or pony, and a few minutes’ head start, and I’d be in the palace – and once there, I’d be safe. ‘I need to pluck a rose,’ I said.

  ‘I could do with a piss as well,’ said Thomas’s man on my left. Suddenly I recognized him. It was the man who had stared at me that first time I had met Parry here at the inn. He must have followed me all the way from London. He looked a healthy fellow, the sort who could engage in a knife fight before breakfast, and come back afterwards for a duel with swords. There are some men who have faces that have no fat on them, with skin like leather that’s been tanned too long, all wrinkled and worn. But his arms and chest looked as feeble as a ship’s cable.

  I hadn’t planned on company, so I stayed a while. That cost me another quartet of beer, and all the while I was surrounded. Falkes stood on my right, while the man who had followed me stood on my left. The third man was behind me all the time, and he was the one I most disliked. Not seeing him, not knowing what he was doing, was unnerving. I drank my beer slowly, savouring it like a man who’s set for the rope and knows it will be the last beer he drinks.

  ‘You must need to wet the weeds by now,’ Falkes said. ‘You said you wanted to point your pizzle before that pint.’

  ‘I’m all right for now.’

  ‘You should come outside,’ the man on my left said. The man behind me pushed me in the back, and I stumbled forward.

  Then I had an idea. ‘Don’t do that again!’ I shouted at the top of my voice. The other patrons of the inn stopped in their games to look up. The maid gave me a look over her shoulder, and the innkeeper appeared in the doorway.

  There was another shove, this time harder, and I threw caution to the winds. My pot of ale I threw forward, and it struck the serving maid full in the face. She stood bolt upright in a trice, beer dripping, wearing an expression of unholy rage. I preferred her in full horsey appearance to this. ‘This man keeps barging into me,’ I said by way of explanation, but she wasn’t listening. She picked up a wooden tray, and even as I realized that Falkes had a dagger in his hand, and that the others were reaching for me, I heard a loud crack, and Falkes’s eyes narrowed in a wince of agony. He half turned to the maid, but before he could, the tray swung again, this time slamming into his face, smashing his nose and knocking him cold.

  I heard a knife drawn, and struggled to release myself from the two sturdy figures, but before I could there was a general scraping of stools as the entire clientele rose to their feet. Some looked anxious at becoming involved, but they were in the minority. For the rest, all carried knives of different lengths, and many held cudgels too, and they were advancing.

  If I had been one of the two, I would have stabbed me quickly and been away, but these two were not so resolute or determined, I suppose, for they began to move away from the bar, still gripping my arms.

  That was when I heard a loud crunch, and the man on my left suddenly wasn’t there. When I glanced around, I saw that the maid was now standing on the bar, and she had taken an almighty swing with her tray, bringing it down on the head of the man who now lay on the ground, moaning softly to himself. I smiled and looked at the man on the right. He gazed at me, with the thought What am I doing here? clearly running through his mind, when the slight whistling noise of a cracked tray moving through the air at speed could be heard. Suddenly, both my arms were free, and I grinned, just for a moment.

  Because then the stupid maid brought the damned tray down on my head, and that was the last I knew.

  I came to with the firm conviction that everyone was determined to break my pate for me. My head was unbearably painful and the bright light threatened to make the top of my skull unscrew itself so my brain could run away and hide. When I opened my eyes just a little slit, I was nearly blinded by the pair of rushlights on the table near me. I had an overwhelming desire to throw up just then. It took a major effort of will to swallow and keep the bile at bay. If you are asked, I would recommend that you refuse an offer of being hit on the head by a slight-looking bar maid with a heavy tray. Ask for a slow-st
rangling from a rope in preference.

  Trying to move proved to be painful. My hands were not bound, which was, from personal experience, a positive sign. I opened my eyes again, and this time I was confronted with an open window and doorway. Both were searingly bright, and I had to avert my face.

  Doing so brought into focus the figure sitting on a stool nearby. Jonathan Harvey was contentedly sinking a quart of the loathsome cider they brewed in this area. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked.

  I looked about me carefully, trying not to jerk my head in case a sharp movement caused it to fall off. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Ah, your friend Falkes? I came here and discovered you and he were in close contact. In fact, there were four of you on the ground. Not the best place for a fellow with a new jack, really. Still, you’re looking more yourself now.’

  ‘What happened to Falkes?’

  ‘Oh, he is in gaol at present. I helped the local beadle to shift him and his companions. At the moment they are being held against a surety for brawling. You were to be held, but I explained that Princess Elizabeth is keen to see you, and the problem of Falkes retreated somewhat. The locals here rather like the Princess. Especially since her presence means a constant trade for the town. They don’t like foreigners coming here and starting fights, either. They consider that it is their prerogative to start fights in their own town.’

  He drained his pot, set it on the table at his side, and held out his hand. ‘I think you should come with me.’

  I was grateful for his hand. Without it, I could not have climbed to my feet. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It is fine, my friend,’ he said. He put an arm about my shoulder on the way to the door, and I glanced back to see the landlord standing at the corner of the bar, a big pot of ale in his fist. On his face was an expression of genuine fear, which surprised me. He should surely have been glad to see me leaving the bar, since I was the cause of his latest brawl. Then again, he probably feared Lady Elizabeth’s wrath if she were to hear I had been set upon by his barmaid. I lifted my hand to my head and encountered a lump the size of a good-sized goose egg. The mere touch felt as if I’d driven a spike into my skull, and I took my hand away again very swiftly.

  Outside was my pony and Harvey’s, both held by a groom. He gave us the reins, and I made him give me a leg up. There was no chance of my being able to clamber aboard in my current condition. I took the reins, tried to quash the latest feeling of queasiness, and pulled the beast’s head round to the causeway that led to the palace. We rode on, and when we were a half mile from the town, Harvey spoke again.

  ‘You resolved the problems very swiftly there at the palace,’ he said.

  ‘What was your part in it?’

  ‘Mine? Small enough. I inveigled my way into Sir Thomas Parry’s group, and have been attempting to do my best to further my master’s ambitions.’

  ‘So you wanted to help Parry and Lady Elizabeth?’ I said, but I could not help throwing a look at him. There was something … I don’t know, something measuring in his eyes that didn’t agree with his general demeanour. I wondered where the gaol was, fleetingly, but then Harvey’s face brought back the look on the landlord’s features. A reluctance, a resentment, a feeling that he was conspiring in something he didn’t …

  ‘I think when we get back, I will eat. I hope they have a decent leg of pork or lamb today. I have been fed on too much fish and thin gruel in the last weeks,’ Harvey said.

  ‘Yes. Some meat would be welcome,’ I said. ‘A capon for me, I think. I could eat it whole. Ow!’ My head was jerked as I spoke, the pony stumbling slightly on a loose cobble, and I winced at the pain of it. I was not feeling entirely myself. That blow on the head was enough to leave me feeling disorientated. The slow movement of the pony, jogging along, was enough to jolt my injuries with every step, and as I continued now, the mere idea of food was enough to make me want to heave.

  ‘Especially when it comes to the information I’ve been fed,’ Harvey said, and chuckled to himself. ‘Anyone would look at the palace of Woodstock and think that the place was a haven for fools and the criminally lunatic, would they not?’

  ‘Only the sort of fools who’d think it amusing to take their rest in a place that was as wet as the bogs all about it,’ I said with feeling, wincing again. It really was easier to ride with my eyes closed. There was little need to keep them open, in any case. The pony knew its way. If it were to get lost, Harvey would be able to pull us back into line. I allowed my eyelids to fall slowly over my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the sun on my head, until there was a jerk again, and both eyes snapped open. ‘Ow!’

  And then I looked over my shoulder. To my horror, Harvey had drawn his sword, and was even now within striking distance.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He smiled – a little sadly, I like to think. ‘The thing is, Master Blackjack, you are a threat to too many people. My master, the Queen, and many others. My master asked me to work out what you were doing here, and it was soon clear enough what your mission was: to murder Lady Margery. My master had his suspicions about you during the rebellion, and when he heard you were to come up here, he set his mind to working out why. That was why he sent me too. It was the merest good fortune that I became friendly with Sir Thomas Parry. And then I learned you are to be his assassin. Well, I am sorry, but since I am already employed by Bishop Gardiner to smooth out the little bumps in the way of his political ambition, I think you are a superfluous addition to my profession.’ He looked at me apologetically. ‘That means I have to kill you.’

  ‘But – wait! How did you forge the letter?’

  ‘Someone with a pleasing enough hand.’

  ‘The seal? But the Princess had it all the while!’

  ‘I had hoped you would accuse the fool Sir Walter, since he bruised his wife’s neck when he pulled her own seal from her, but you didn’t have the wits. No, I expected to find it when I killed Lady Margery, but it wasn’t on her new crucifix or in her purse. I hoped, after the inquest when you and I visited Princess Elizabeth’s chamber, that I might find it then, but unfortunately her manservants had their eyes on me all the time. It was only when we went back, when you and I went to her chamber with the injured boy, that I succeeded. While I was supposedly fortifying her bedchamber, I found a drawer in her writing table. I was in her chamber for some length of time, wasn’t I?’ he smiled. ‘When the attack happened, the men were supposed to find the seal and accuse her of writing the letter, but she realized, I suppose, and hid it somewhere herself.’

  Now, all this was a complete shock to me, as you may believe. While he spoke, my mouth fell open, and I tried to reason with him. It wasn’t easy. My head was pounding painfully, my belly recoiled from the idea of a fast movement, and I had thought Harvey was a friend; I wasn’t ready for the declaration that he was about to murder me. Since it was at the behest, if not the direct orders, of the Lord Chancellor himself, however, I was less surprised, I suppose. I had met Gardiner. I hadn’t liked him.

  Now I liked him a great deal less.

  ‘Let’s just think about …’ I said, but my words ended in a rather squeaky bleat as his sword whirled through the air and missed me by a mere six inches. ‘No! Stop!’ I said, but then the blade was heading towards my, well, my head. I ducked, the sword struck the pony at the rear of the cantle, luckily where the leather protected the beast’s back, and the blade skittered off, catching my upper buttock.

  The pony was startled. That’s nothing to how I felt.

  I let out a loud yelp as I felt the sting of the blade, and then I was aware of blood running freely. The sensation of my own blood leaking is not one that I have ever enjoyed. I ducked as the blade sang through the air, and if you don’t believe me when I say it sang, all I can say is you haven’t heard a blade pass only a couple of inches from your skull. Harvey swore and swung again, and this time I felt something give.

  I think that there was some reinforcement at the back of the saddle, and h
is blade had weakened it. Whether it had or not, suddenly I found the rear of the saddle gave me no support. I spoke under my breath at some length about the parentage of the saddle-maker, but then the blade came again, and I clapped spurs to my pony’s flanks and crouched low, hoping for the best.

  In the distance, perhaps a mile away, I could see smoke in the sky, which I hoped came from the palace chimneys, and I aimed myself at them, trying not to think about the three feet of steel that was being aimed at me. I was so low over the brute’s neck that I was almost one with it. All I could smell was horse sweat, and the beating of hoofs slammed at my skull like an army of smiths practising with two-pound hammers in sequence. There was a stream, and we splashed through the shallow waters like horse racers, great plumes of water being thrown up on either side, drenching us all. Then I saw movement, and he was there beside me, his sword held aloft.

  I kicked my feet free from the stirrups and as his blade came at me, I was already falling.

  I had never really thought about how painful falling from a horse could be. I suppose if I had thought about things, I might have tried to spring lightly from the saddle, landing on the far side of the horse, tumbling gently to the ground and rolling like an acrobat. But I’m not an acrobat; I was injured, and I didn’t think much beyond getting out of reach of that damned sword. I started thinking that the Coroner could have fun working out the value of the weapon that decapitated me, but then my mind was taken up with another thought. It was this: hitting the ground at full gallop hurts. It hurts a lot.

  One foot struck first, and I felt pain like a flash of lightning as it kicked an immovable rock. The anguish rose to the knee, and then paused to make its presence felt. I would have howled, but by then the ground was rushing up towards my face with alarming speed. I had time – just – to curl myself into a ball, protecting my head with my arms, I think, but the top of my head, where that evil harpy had hit me with her wooden board, still took a lot of the brunt of the fall. I bounced, rolled and wailed, and thankfully much of it was over watery marshland at the side of the causeway. Not that it made me feel any better.