The Cardinal's Court Page 17

  The cardinal was right: John was with Alice. He looked slightly disgruntled to see me, as if I had discovered a secret weakness of his, but I greeted him with warmth.

  ‘John thinks that the arrow was meant for you.’ Alice was the first to speak. ‘Now all you have to do, John, is draw up a list of people who wanted Hugh out of the way.’

  ‘And make sure that you top the list with someone who is not great friends with the king, otherwise you may be wasting your time,’ I said lightly and John frowned.

  ‘Why should St Leger want to kill you? We’re agreed, aren’t we, that he could not have done the first murder, the murder of the instructor of the wards. He was playing cards with the king all night. I saw him myself. Alice saw him.’

  ‘He was still there when I went to bed,’ confirmed Alice.

  ‘Well, he might just want me out of the way. He wants James convicted of the murder of the instructor of wards, and he may think that I will use influence to prove that he was not. He knows that I am friendly with the cardinal,’ I said, but at the back of my mind I remembered the cardinal’s warning. The king was mercurial. The cardinal could not afford to risk his displeasure.

  Aloud I said, ‘I’ll ask you the question that I asked the cardinal: Is an earldom worth risking death?’

  ‘And what did he reply?’ asked John, and I turned to Alice.

  ‘What do you think he said?’

  She lifted the silky ear of her little dog and whispered something into it and then showed me a smiling face.

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘He didn’t reply. The cardinal is a cautious man. But what would you think, you two, in the privacy of this room, with only little Lily as a witness, what would be your opinion. Is an earldom worth such a risk?’

  John looked doubtfully at Alice.

  ‘The answer to that is probably, yes,’ she said instantly. ‘Yes, of course, an earldom would be deemed to be worth a risk. You know, Hugh, risks are run all the time by people in power. Charles Brandon, the friend of Sir George St Leger, was sent to France to fetch home Queen Mary when her husband died. He was warned by the king that she was not for him, but he married her and she was pregnant when they arrived back. That was treason! Charles Brandon took a huge risk. The king could have had his head removed for that, but he didn’t. And Brandon was made Duke of Suffolk. Ask him now if it was worth the risk and he’ll tell you that it was. Ask St Leger whether getting rid of you, an Irish lawyer, and being unhampered in arresting and executing James Butler is worth the risk when the prize will probably be an earldom, well, in his secret soul, I would say that, yes, he would think he would reckon it’s worth a risk, especially as he has a powerful protector.’

  ‘There are three people who do a reckless deed,’ I quoted for the second time that evening. ‘There is the man without fear, the man without hope and there is the man who has powerful protection – one of the triads in our laws, Alice,’ I explained.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I might embroider that onto a cushion cover as a present for the cardinal, but we are straying from the point. What is the most important thing for you to do, Hugh, to convict St Leger of murdering Dr Ramirez, or to find out who murdered Edmund Pace on Shrove Tuesday evening?’

  I didn’t have to think about that. ‘The latter, of course. I must clear James before St Leger manages to have him arrested. Once I find out who did that first murder then there is no case for James to answer about that second murder, especially as it can probably be proved that he was many miles away.’ I looked across at John. ‘Was it Richard Gibson who took that bow and arrow from your guard room?’

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘You said that he had a key.’

  He looked at me stubbornly. ‘It’s a matter of good manners,’ he said obliquely. ‘The king brings a large number of courtiers and their servants with him when he visits. My brother serjeant must have access to the lock-up facilities. The cardinal would want all courtesy shown to the king’s men.’

  Alice stirred. ‘Hugh, you are going off the point again. We’ve agreed that the important matter to solve is the murder of the instructor of the wards where James has been openly accused by two eyewitnesses of firing a lethal arrow during a pageant and in the presence of the king. That is enough to have him hung and it’s enough to discredit his house and rob his father of an earldom. That’s the puzzle that needs solving. The queen may well ask for an investigation into the death of her physician and that will be a matter for John and perhaps for the king’s serjeant, Master Gibson, is that not right, John?’ She looked across at her brother and he got to his feet instantly.

  ‘I should inform him now, I suppose,’ he said looking worried. ‘I was thinking that I would wait for the morning, but perhaps it would be better done now.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ said Alice and I saw Lily open one eye and look up at her mistress. I hid my face by bending down to fondle the little dog.

  ‘You have great diplomatic skills, Alice,’ I said when the door had closed behind her brother. ‘The cardinal will find you very useful during the visit of his imperial majesty, Charles V, when he comes to England in July.’

  She ignored this. ‘What’s the matter, Hugh? You’re troubled. Won’t you tell me? There’s no one here but Lily and I have trained her to be discreet.’

  I got up and walked across to put some more logs on the fire. ‘It’s this dreadful death penalty. I just can’t abide the notion of condemning anyone to such barbarity. That’s why I shy away from naming a suspect.’ I said the words without looking at her. Perhaps she did not feel like that. Perhaps brought up under English law, brought up to believe the biblical harshness of a life for a life, then she would find it hard to understand how I quailed at the idea of being responsible for one of those dreadful hangings or savage beheadings.

  ‘Put it out of your mind for the moment,’ she commanded. ‘There is always a way. So who do you suspect?’

  I gave the fire a kick and went back to my seat, picking up Lily to give me an excuse not to meet her steady gaze.

  ‘I think that the murder was committed when the hall was empty, either during the sugar banquet or after it. Someone came in, some victim who had been blackmailed, met the man, had received a demand for more money, an unreasonable demand, perhaps, found the man asleep on a chair by the fire …’ I fondled the little dog and did not look up.

  ‘Why asleep?’ queried Alice.

  ‘There was no sign of a struggle,’ I explained. ‘He wasn’t a big man, but he would have been considerably bigger and stronger than anyone who might have killed him that night.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘So a knife is pulled out, the man is killed, the fireplace and chair cleaned of blood by means of that fire bucket …’

  Alice nodded. She knew all about the fire regulations at Hampton Court. A couple of those buckets, elegantly painted in mulberry and gold, stood by her own fireplace.

  ‘And then the body was carried, or more likely dragged over and concealed by the tapestry. There was a clumsy attempt to involve James by sticking an arrow through the tapestry and then into the wound in the man’s chest.’

  ‘And who do you think might have done this? Who could have been blackmailed?’

  ‘It could have been one of the wards,’ I said. ‘Gilbert is a possibility, but I don’t think that he would have involved James. And then there is Harry Percy. The man was blackmailing him about his gambling debts and Harry risked losing his position as heir to the Earl of Northumberland. His father had already threatened him. And also Harry had fallen in love with Anne Boleyn so that would give him a reason to involve James. Even an accusation of murder might have been enough to make the Boleyns back away from the projected marriage.’

  ‘But Gilbert had no reason to involve James, that’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s possible that he didn’t know it was James’s arrow,’ I said, but even to myself that sounded weak. The initi
als were burned into the stem of the arrow and the letters stood out black and clear.

  Alice made no comment, just gazed into the fire for a moment and then turned back to me.

  ‘And …’

  ‘What do you mean by ‘and’?’ Despite the seriousness of the matter, I couldn’t help smiling. Alice was always so astute.

  ‘There’s someone else.’

  I took a long breath. ‘There’s a Flemish girl, Susannah Horenbout. Her knife was found in the hall by young Tom Seymour. It’s possible that Edmund Pace may have been blackmailing her, or else she might have hated him for some reason. He may even have raped or attempted to rape her. The cook was talking about advising his daughter to carry a knife with her as a defence against being attacked, and somehow I wondered from the way that he spoke whether he was dropping me a hint, a hint about another girl who walks dark passageways in Hampton Court. Susannah Horenbout is a big strong girl, and, of course, she has a brother, Lucas. We met him, myself and poor Ramirez, and he had just come back from the Wildernesse where he had been to gather willow twigs for turning into charcoal sticks. Well, James lost an arrow when he was shooting in that place, only a few days before Edmund Pace was killed. Lucas could have found it …’

  ‘So it was possible that one or other of the Flemish brother and sister might have been involved, is that right?’

  I nodded. It was all that I could manage.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Alice watched my face.

  ‘Nothing for the moment,’ I said, gathering my courage. ‘I’m going to go up to Westminster tomorrow and see whether I can find James and take him away. If I can’t find him, well, you’ll see me back here and I’ll have to work out something.’

  ‘But if James is arrested?’

  ‘If James is arrested, Alice, then he comes first.’ I said the words bravely, but thinking about Susannah and poor Gilbert, I quailed at the idea of handing them over to the hangman. And Harry Percy, a boy so deeply in love. An image of his fever-filled eyes and his flushed face came to me, and I knew that I couldn’t do it.

  ‘I must leave you now, Alice,’ I said. ‘I plan to rise early.’

  12

  I rose at dawn and made my preparations. Colm looked as though he had not slept at all. I asked him no more questions, but bullied him into swallowing some bread and ale. It would be cold on the river and the boy was growing fast. He still had a frightened and worried look about him. I was almost certain that, despite his denials, he had seen something last night. I’d have preferred to leave him behind if it had not been for that, but as it was he would be safer with me. The killing of a foreign servant was not something that dangerous men would baulk at. The queen was, according to John who popped in, most upset about the death of her physician and would spare no pains to use her influence with the king to bring the murderer to the chopping block once she was sure of his identity. Colm, if he had seen anything, was in great danger.

  ‘Letter for you, Master Brehon,’ called out the boatman, just as I was about to enquire whether I could go back to Westminster with them. I took the paper from him quickly, my heart thumping.

  ‘News of your missing young friend?’ The king’s serjeant was by my side in an instant, peering inquisitively over my shoulder.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said in a non-committal fashion. I didn’t know the handwriting on the paper that enfolded the message. The seal, also, was unknown to me. I cursed the mischance that had brought the man to the ferry wharf just at the same moment as I had reached it. I could not ask for the cardinal’s barge, either, in his presence. If I did, he would make some excuse to accompany me to Westminster.

  ‘Not the Earl of Ormond’s seal, is it? Or Master James Butler’s, either.’ Without apology he took the letter from my hand and scanned it, holding it close to his eyes.

  ‘Oh, a swan among the flowers. That would be Master John Skelton, the king’s poet. Strange fellow. Never know whether he is laughing at you or praising you. Told me he would put me into a poem, once. Said I’d surely know myself, if I did read it. I told him that I didn’t have the time for reading.’ The serjeant’s tone had turned friendly but I was not deceived. I knew this man well. I didn’t know whether he would tell a lie, or whether he would manufacture evidence, but he would be tireless in his pursuit of a man whom he thought to be guilty. And resolute in delivering him up to the hangman.

  Still, it didn’t appear as though he had any further interest in the letter. He handed it over to me and then looked me up and down.

  ‘Going on the river?’ he asked.

  ‘No, just for a walk through the Wildernesse,’ I said. I had not yet spoken to the boatman and that was lucky. I would have to postpone my departure. I turned away from him decisively, tucking the letter into my purse and striding out energetically.

  The Wildernesse at Hampton had been planted on the north side of the court’s buildings and, although the hedges gave shelter, it was bitterly cold on that March weather. Nevertheless, the grass at my feet was crisp and the earth below it was rock hard. There would be little or no mud on the roads to Dover and no floods to negotiate.

  As soon as I had made my way into the heart of the hedged pathways, I stopped and took the letter from my pocket, carefully prising loose the wax seal and unfolding the paper.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect, though a wild hope had arisen that in some way this John Skelton had met up with James and was sending me a note on his behalf. But I was disappointed. Two pages of poetry, written in a scrawling hand with several blots marring the surface of the paper.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ The serjeant, on second thoughts, must have come to the same conclusion as myself. He would have wondered why the poet had written to me, followed me silently on the grassy paths that twisted and turned in a maze-like pattern. And now he had caught up with me. Colm gave a frightened, convulsive jump, but I greeted him calmly and waved the letter at him. He frowned, but did not take it, looking sharply into my face.

  Well, I wished him joy. I was no great admirer of John Skelton and thought that the cardinal put up too patiently with his scurrilous jokes. I read aloud some of the lines:

  With turrets and with towers,

  With halls and with bowers,

  ‘Must be Hampton Court, don’t you think?’ I enquired in a casual voice, glancing back and up at the red brick towers that framed the Base Court. And then felt my heart miss a beat. My eye had moved further down the page and had picked out a familiar word. Hurriedly, before he noticed my hesitation, I moved on to another section.

  ‘This must be about the tapestries, I should imagine,’ I said in my most nonchalant manner:

  Hanging about the walls,

  Cloths of gold and palls,

  He was getting bored and restless, but relentlessly I read on:

  With Dame Diana naked;

  How lusty Venus quaked,

  And how Cupid shaked …

  ‘Oh, dear,’ I said lowering the paper. ‘George won’t like that! And here’s another bit,’ I continued:

  With wanton wenches winking …

  ‘Well, well, I think that I must study these tapestries more carefully.’ Did I dare pocket the letter or should I go on reading out extracts, but he solved the dilemma by saying sourly that he had work to do and couldn’t spend his day listening to rubbish.

  After he had left I did not yield to the temptation to read the rest of the letter, but put it away and set out briskly to reach the centre of the maze. James had shown me the trick of it and I knew that once I reached there that I would have a broad, empty space all around me and there would be no possibility of someone stealing up quietly beside me.

  There was a statue of Venus in the centre. There was no doubt that the cardinal, as a great patron of what they were calling the rebirth of classical Greece and Rome, seemed to have a fondness for naked women – something that might seem inappropriate to a churchman. John Skelton could mock him all he liked though. The cardinal was serenely s
ure of his position as the king’s advisor and chief minister. And this Venus was a beautifully sculpted lady. I sat on her plinth, leaned against her shapely knees and searched eagerly for the line that had caught my eyes. There it was:

  ‘Pantlers run; Butlers flee,’

  Rivers flow to the sea.’

  There the faintest of blue marks below the word, ‘Butler’. James went down the river towards the sea. That was relevant.

  And then my eye went back to the business about the cupids:

  ‘And how Cupid shaked

  His dart and bent his bow

  And landed on Canon’s Row.’

  It didn’t make sense. Not even sense for John Skelton’s type of verse. And the blue line was definitely under the two words Canon’s Row. A row of canons? And then inspiration dawned. A row of houses. A row of houses for the canons at Westminster, perhaps? Or one canon, perhaps. I extricated myself from the cardinal’s maze and went in search of George Cavendish.

  George was fretting over the provision of silver ewers for the lodgings being prepared for the party of Spanish ambassadors. He had young Francis Bigod in attendance on him and was painstakingly instructing him in the nice graduations of the bouche de court according to the rank of the guest.

  ‘Large or small, Hugh?’ he asked in anguished tones as soon as I had put my head around the door. He had an ornately decorated and brilliantly shining ewer in either hand.

  ‘Small,’ I said promptly. George agonised so much over all decisions that the best way to handle him was always to give a decisive answer.

  ‘Really? Well I suppose you are right. It might encourage them to drink less. Make their allowance seem greater. So the small ones, Francis. Make sure that there is one in each front chamber and that it is placed directly in the centre of the table and that there is a mat underneath it. Or perhaps it should be to one side, what do you think, Hugh? Or to the front? Some of these boys are so careless when they pour the wine.’