“And now he presents himself on his lordship’s doorstep bearing communications from Parliamentary High Command. I would say he has some explaining to do.”
“Things are not quite as they seem, Mr Gamull,” I said, realising the identity of the third man.
“Then pray enlighten us,” invited the earl, with a smile. “We have all day.”
I needed to think quickly. As long as I was Rigby’s messenger, I had a certain amount of immunity from arrest, but I was loath to put that to the test. Sooner or later it would occur to Chisnall to tell Whitby or the earl that I had been captured in the trenches at Lathom and had been the subject of a prisoner exchange. If he chose to tell either that he held me for a spy, then I was in serious trouble.
However, an idea occurred to me, which I fancied might just help me change the subject enough to get me off the hook, whilst also securing me valuable information in my hunt for the murderer of William Seaman’s relatives.
“I am an acquaintance of William Seaman, as Mr Whitby well knows,” I began. “A cheese merchant, who would expand his business. As Mr Whitby is also aware, I am one of the town constables in Nantwich, and I recently enjoyed some success in solving a series of murders that took place in our town. Mr Seaman knows this, and when his sister was so brutally murdered herself, he asked me to travel to Ormskirk, not only to convey to his relatives the sad tidings of his sister’s demise, but also to see whether I could be of assistance in tracking down her killer. I naturally agreed, for I wish to gain Mr Seaman’s trust. When this war is over, I wish to expand my cheese business, and he has the contacts, which will enable me-”
“Yes, yes, go on,” cut in Gamull, impatiently.
“When I arrived in Ormskirk, I was pressed into service by Colonel Rigby and his men, made to dig trenches around Lathom House. Then, when I tried to deliver my news to William Seaman’s other sister, I found that she had also been murdered, together with her husband; a fowler called Bootle.”
“Bootle?” exclaimed the earl, his face darkening. “I know a Bootle, a treacherous canker blossom of a man, who once had the trust of my household, but now betrays that trust by helping that common churl Rigby, who threatens my wife and family and seeks to destroy my property.”
“You speak of Captain William Bootle, my Lord,” I said. “The dead man was his brother.”
It took a couple of seconds for this to register, but when it did, the effect was exactly as I had hoped.
“You mean William Seaman is related by marriage to Bootle?” he exclaimed, turning to Gamull and Whitby. “How can this be so? Why was I not informed?”
“W-we did not know, my lord,” stuttered Whitby, looking worried. “There was no reason for us to know this information. We knew Seaman had a sister in Ormskirk, but he has not been there for years, to our knowledge. Why would we be aware of this connection?”
I smiled to myself. I had guessed that Lord Derby would be unaware of Seaman’s relationship with the Bootles. It also meant that it was highly likely that he was unaware of the fact that Seaman’s son, Lawrence, was serving under Rigby and encamped in the trenches outside Lathom House. I decided I was not going to be the one to reveal that particular piece of information.
Gamull, meanwhile, had not been deflected from his understanding of the more significant implications of what I had told them.
“Murdered, you say?” he said, slowly, scrutinising me intently, his eyes boring into mine. “So two of Seaman’s sisters have died within a week. Is that why you are here, Mr Cheswis?”
“Not entirely,” I said. “I am here because I volunteered to deliver Colonel Rigby’s message as a means to escape the trenches. I am a cheese merchant, sir. Not a soldier. However, I admit that I needed to return to Chester in order to continue my investigations. I had learned that Mr Seaman stands to inherit some business interests in France, particularly in the calfskin trade, and that he has committed to sell these interests to you before he has even inherited them himself. Your close confidant, Mr Whitby, was present when Katherine Seaman died, and now a second close relative of William Seaman has been murdered. I was wondering whether this inheritance was connected in any way-”
“I would be very careful what you say, Mr Cheswis,” warned Whitby, his lip curling in indignation, but Gamull quietened him with a wave of the hand.
“If you are suggesting that I would become in any way involved in any kind of impropriety that involves purchasing shares from someone who has no right to sell, or that Mr Whitby or I are in some way involved in these murders-”
“You misunderstand me, Mr Gamull,” I said. “I suggest no such thing. I merely wished to ascertain whether this inheritance was of some import in this whole matter. You have being dealing with William Seaman a long time, sir?”
“Yes, of course, over many years. I can’t remember how many.”
“And he has helped facilitate the export of your calfskins through Henry Oulton’s company in St Jean de Luz.”
“You are well-informed, sir,” said Gamull. “Then you will understand why it is important for me to secure this outlet for when Mr Oulton is no longer with us.”
“I do,” I conceded, “but you have signed a contract with William Seaman, whilst Henry Oulton still walks on this earth. Money has exchanged hands. Is this strictly ethical, sir? Or even legal?”
“That’s none of your damned business,” snapped Gamull. “Odds bodkins, you are an impertinent fellow.”
“Then I apologise,” I said, sensing that I had overstepped the mark. “Nonetheless, I understand Katherine Seaman did not approve of this arrangement.”
“So I’m told,” said Gamull, “but that does not mean either I or Robert Whitby had anything to do with her murder.”
“That, of course, is true,” I said, “and I make no such suggestion. Tell me, though, how much do you know about how Henry Oulton’s business is operated today? Both Henry Oulton’s son and his grandson are dead, I understand.”
“That’s correct,” said Gamull. “When the grandson, George, died, his wife remarried one of the warehousemen there, a man called Le Croix. He is still there and now runs the business on Oulton’s behalf.”
“And George had no children?”
“No. He died young, of a fever, I believe. Le Croix had children of his own, but I do not know what happened to them. You really need to be speaking to William Seaman about this.”
“I would be happy to do this, Mr Gamull,” I said. “However, I doubt your dragoons will allow me to do that, unless, of course, you order them to accompany me there before I leave.”
“That I would do willingly,” said Gamull, “if it meant you were to leave me to conclude my business without you poking your nose into my affairs. However, there is one problem with that course of action. Mr Whitby has returned from Mr Seaman’s residence not one hour since. Apparently, Seaman did not return home last night, and his wife is frantic with worry. William Seaman, it appears, has vanished without trace.”
Chapter 27
Lathom House – Friday March 22nd, 1644
It was with a troubled mind that I rode through the gates at Henwald’s Lowe, the area of common pasture to the north-east of Chester. Although I had managed to deflect the attention of the Earl of Derby, Francis Gamull, and Robert Whitby from exploring the real reasons for my presence in Chester the previous week, my investigations had, once again, produced more questions than answers.
For example, why had my presence at Seaman’s house been considered important enough for Whitby to have informed Gamull about me? How had Chisnall escaped from Lathom House, and why was he so antagonistic towards me? There seemed to be connections everywhere but no common thread. The Earl of Derby, Gamull, Whitby, Chisnall, Henry Oulton, and the various members of the Seaman and Bootle families were all interconnected in a way that had resulted in the deaths of Katherine Seaman, Jane Bootle, and John Bootle. That much was clear, but the one piece of information that would draw all these connections together i
nto one cohesive picture still eluded me.
The disappearance of William Seaman was even more worrying. Where was he, and why had he vanished without telling his wife, Isabel? Could it be that he was the murderer, and that he feared being exposed as such? Whatever the answer, I knew that I must find him.
Gamull’s dragoons escorted me as far as Henwald’s Lowe, not allowing me to speak to any passers-by, but as soon as we reached the toll booth, they bid me on my way, and I was able to ride with increased speed towards Flookersbrook and Mickle Trafford, the earl’s response to Rigby safely stowed inside my shirt.
The strip of land that led to Flookersbrook Hall was almost deserted, all houses and barns in the vicinity having been destroyed and burned to the ground. A couple of hundred yards to either side of the road, the line of the abandoned earthworks snaked through the landscape, partly hidden by hedgerows and trees. The whole area had been deliberately laid to waste by the royalists, in order to make it unattractive to any parliamentary force which fancied it might find cover there.
As I passed through this no-man’s land, I became increasingly uneasy, as though someone were following me, an unseen presence lurking in the hedgerows. I turned Demeter round to scour the path from whence I had come, but could see nothing. At one point I thought I caught a movement in a copse about a hundred yards away, but I couldn’t be sure. Perhaps, I reasoned, the desolate environment was playing tricks with my mind, so I dug my heels into Demeter’s flanks to encourage her to quicken her pace.
As we reached the gates to the burned out remains of Flookersbrook Hall, a female figure, dressed in a plain brown dress and carrying a basket, darted out from behind a stone wall and hailed me. I noticed, with surprise, that it was Annie.
“I thought we were to meet at Mickle Trafford,” I said, somewhat flustered.
“Yes, but you have already been to Chester. Thomas Corbett saw you. You may well be being followed, and I cannot risk compromising Challinor’s safety. If he is unmasked as a parliamentary collaborator, they will hang him.”
I dismounted and tied Demeter to the gatepost. “Then let us talk here,” I said. “We should be safe enough.”
How wrong I was! At that precise moment, I heard a gentle click and swung around to see the triumphant and grinning face of Edward Chisnall, who was pointing a carbine at my chest. I realised with dismay that he must have been tracking me through the trees and hedgerows on the side of the road. He must have doubled back through the remains of Flookersbrook Hall, for he had emerged from behind the thick stone wall which marked the boundary to the house. I cursed to myself, for I had not thought to inspect all potential hiding places properly before dismounting from Demeter’s back.
“At last,” sneered Chisnall, menacingly. “Now I have you, Cheswis. Now I will find out what you are really about.”
It was then that an awful thought occurred to me. I remembered the vial of perfume around Annie’s neck bearing the Earl of Derby’s eagle and child crest. I had suspected Annie before, but had given her the benefit of the doubt. Now I realised how foolish I had been to do so. Annie had betrayed me, deliberately accosting me in a place where there would be no onlookers and where Chisnall could hide effectively and ambush me.
“Annie,” I said, disappointment hanging from my every word, “I would have thought better of you.”
Annie’s eyes widened, and she looked at me in panic.
“Shush, Daniel. No!” she hissed. “You have me all wrong.”
“I think not,” I said, in anger. “You have led me here intentionally.”
Chisnall, meanwhile, was staring at the two of us in bewilderment. It was good that he was, for my words were just enough to distract him from the charging figure which emerged from the trees behind him, pulling him down behind the wall and out of sight.
“Quick, help us,” urged Annie, picking up her skirts and running through the gate towards where Chisnall had disappeared. Hesitantly, I walked over to the wall and glanced over it; with relief, for on the other side, Edward Chisnall was flat on his back, cursing loudly, while straddling his chest and brandishing Chisnall’s carbine was my friend Alexander Clowes.
“Would somebody care to tell me what is going on?” I demanded, once Chisnall had been securely tied with his back to the gatepost. We were sat on a grassy hump a few yards down the main path leading to where Flookersbrook Hall had once stood, out of earshot, but within sight of Chisnall, who glowered at us through knotted eyebrows, a look of pure hatred on his face.
“Rigby told me that you had been sent to Chester as a messenger,” explained Alexander, inspecting Chisnall’s carbine with interest. “I figured that you might need my assistance, so I managed to steal away from the main camp, back to New Park House, and rode after you. I guessed that you would use the opportunity to pass by Challinor’s on the way, but when I got there, you had already left. I realised that I would not be able to catch you before you entered the city, so I decided to use the abandoned earthworks as cover to wait for your return. There is a good view from up there and plenty of cover among the ruins of the hall.”
“And so what happened?”
“Annie was the first person to arrive. I knew you would want to speak to her and guessed that she might be on her way to Challinor’s, so I went down to meet her and we waited for you together.”
“So you weren’t waiting here instead of at Challinor’s in order to betray me to Chisnall?” I said to Annie, who responded with a perplexed look.
“Of course not, you jolthead,” she said. “Whatever has made you think that?”
“Around your neck,” I said. “The vial of perfume, it carries the earl’s crest. I thought you might have been behind our betrayal to Jem Bressy.”
“God’s bones, Daniel,” she breathed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. “Such a beef-witted clot-pole as you I have seldom come across. Is it so difficult to see? You are very well aware of the trade I practice. Who do you think gathers so much information on the Earl of Derby, and how do you think we get it? How, for that matter, do you think The Boot manages to stay open? Mr Corbett is now out of gaol. How do you think we would manage that if we didn’t have influence? The earl is a grown man. How do you think he manages after weeks in the Isle of Man and with his wife besieged at Lathom?”
I stared at Annie in disbelief.
“So you are the Earl of Derby’s lover?” I said.
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“But what about Bressy?” I asked, nonplussed.
“Bressy has no influence with the earl or with Francis Gamull for that matter. He is one of Byron’s men. Bressy was acting on his own when he tried to have you arrested. Fortunately for you, he did not mention your real names to Gamull or the earl, and you were registered at The Boot under your assumed identities.”
I slumped onto my back. I had been such a fool. Were it not for Alexander’s presence, I would have probably ended up getting Annie killed as well as myself.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
“You must first go to Challinor’s,” said Annie. “The boy Challinor sent as a messenger said you had asked to see William Seaman, a merchant whose sister was murdered last week. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, by any chance?”
“I was a dinner guest at his house on the night she died,” I admitted.
Annie whistled. “Well, Seaman, by all accounts, has vanished, but his wife wishes to speak with you. You’ll find her at Challinor’s house. First, though, we must make sure that this fellow cannot follow you.” Annie looked over to where Chisnall was sitting, still staring intently at us with murder in his eyes. “Come with me,” she said to me, getting to her feet and strolling over towards Chisnall.
“Captain,” she said. “We will now be taking leave of you. Unfortunately, for our own security, we cannot afford to untie you.”
“You can’t leave me here on my own,” seethed Chisnall. “No-one will find me.”
�
��Yes they will,” said Annie. “I will now return to Chester and will leave word as to where you can be found. I’m sure someone will come and get you by nightfall.”
“If I ever find out who you are, madam, I will make sure you feel the end of a rope. You can be sure of it.”
“We shall see,” said Annie, with a smile. “In the meantime, my friends will be taking your horse, which I assume is tied up somewhere in the woods the other side of Flookersbrook Hall. Would that be correct?”
Chisnall gave Annie a murderous glare. “You would steal my horse, Cheswis?” he snarled, addressing me.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I am no thief. I will leave it for you at the Reade’s house, where it has been stabled these past days.”
Chisnall looked at me with loathing. “You mean you knew where I kept the horse? Is this Jenny Reade’s doing?”
“No. I followed her dog there yesterday afternoon. You just happened to be there. She did not betray you. I will not steal your horse, Captain Chisnall, but I cannot vouch for anyone else within the parliamentary army on that score. I suggest that when you get back to Lathom, you retrieve your horse and do not bother the Reade family again.”
***
Challinor was ready and waiting for us when Alexander and I arrived in Mickle Trafford. I could hear the rhythmic clanging of hammer on anvil as we approached, but as soon as we entered his yard, he stopped what he was doing and ushered us into his house.
Inside, I found Isabel Seaman already settled at his hall table. She looked slightly dishevelled, as though she had left home in a hurry. Her coif was slightly lopsided, and red rings around her eyes betrayed the fact that she had been crying. She tried to rise to her feet when I entered the room, but I gestured for her to remain seated.
“Mr Cheswis, I don’t know what to say,” she began. “We have put you to so much trouble.”
“It is no trouble, I assure you,” I replied. “I only wish I had better tidings to report. I am afraid I am the bearer of bad news, but it seems you have enough on your mind.”
A Soldier of Substance Page 19