by Graham Brack
‘Throw Morley in a dungeon for a couple of days to reflect upon his inadequacy, Arlington. He’s a good man, but he’s getting cocky.’
‘I’ll see to it, Your Majesty.’
‘So do we know where Wevers was going?’
‘He was waylaid in an alleyway when he was heading south, so I presume he was going down to the river.’
‘Probably looking for signs of shipbuilding. He would know our navy isn’t there.’
I recalled the way Wevers had been looking along the river when we were being greeted, as if appraising something.
‘So tell me,’ the King continued, ‘how was Wevers found?’
‘We retraced our steps to look for him and found him in a side alley. He was face down with a dagger sticking out of his back,’ I explained.
‘Do we know whose dagger?’
‘A man called Vlisser, Your Majesty, one of our party.’
Charles tore a piece of bread and dunked it in a cup of wine before turning it over in his mouth a few times while he considered this. ‘Well, I can’t hang a Dutchman who is part of an official party, but no doubt if I drop young Prince William a note he’ll do the decent thing and sort the matter out when you return.’
‘Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I don’t think Vlisser did it.’
‘No? Whyever not?’
‘Two reasons. First, why leave the dagger in Wevers’ back for everyone to find when just a few steps away there was a great big river into which he could have thrown it? Second, the wound in Wevers’ back did not bleed. If it did not bleed, that is because he was already dead when the blade was driven in. And he was dead, because I think we are going to find today that he was actually stabbed from in front. He was lying in a puddle of blood, but none had run down his coat; therefore, he was bleeding somewhere we could not see in the dark.’
Charles did a bit more dunking and chewing. ‘Yes, I can see that argument. Arlington, is there to be an examination of the body?’
‘Yes, sir. I have sent for your personal physician and a surgeon he has recommended.’
‘Good. See that Mercurius is admitted too. We have to be seen to be making every effort to get this right. Report back to me after the examination.’
We both bowed and I began to edge backwards, only to realise that Arlington was standing his ground. This was, it seemed, his way of conveying that he had somewhat more to say, if invited to do so.
‘Yes, what is it, Arlington?’ asked the King testily.
‘It may be opportune to arrest some members of the French party…’ he began.
‘Is there any evidence against them?’ Charles barked.
‘No, but if we question them…’
‘They are not going to succeed,’ Charles argued. ‘Their star is declining. I have gone as far as I dare with the King of France, and they must know that the people will not tolerate any more alliances with Louis XIV.’
‘You will forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but some of them believe that you intend to follow your brother into the Catholic church and that when he is King the alliance will be revived.’
‘Jermyn is too busy laying out his great estate to return to intrigues,’ Charles thundered. ‘Besides, he needs the money. He can’t afford to plot. Nobody will take a promissory note from him.’
Arlington held his tongue, and Charles’ choler slowly subsided.
‘I will speak to my brother. Unless there is clear evidence linking Jermyn and his party to this, let him be. He served me well for many years, Arlington. I will not condemn him without cause.’
As Lord Arlington and I descended to the cellar where Wevers lay, I asked him about this man Jermyn whom the King had mentioned.
‘Jermyn? Earl of St Albans and my predecessor as Lord Chamberlain. Jermyn was very strongly in favour of a French alliance.’ Arlington paused on the stairs as if he would say more, but dared not; then he decided to unburden himself anyway. ‘Be he e’er so mighty, a subject is still a subject, Master. Jermyn forgot that. And the King is a good man, a generous man, but it is in the nature of good rulers to be ruthless. We all know that whatever has gone before, if we cause him serious discomfiture we will be discarded. I know that. You see me now at the peak of my power; tomorrow morning I may be sent back to my estate in Suffolk. If I transgress badly, I may not even have an estate in Suffolk to return to. I make no complaint about that. We who serve Kings know what our future holds, and no doubt it is the same in your land.’
I thought it politic to nod, although William was not a vindictive master.
‘It is a long story,’ Arlington continued, ‘and my own part in it is not glorious. It was the King’s will that we should ally ourselves with France. To this end, we signed the Treaty of Dover. But actually there were two Treaties, one public and one private. The private one, which I negotiated, laid more obligations upon Great Britain and the King than we thought Parliament would countenance. Anyway, as you will know, the Treaty committed us to attacking your country. What we had not anticipated was that your master would be able to wrest power into his own hands and fight back.’
This much I knew. The De Witt brothers were removed from office and lynched, and William installed himself as Stadhouder, as his father had been. Thanks to his leadership we fought the French to a standstill, stopping them just twenty miles from Amsterdam. Not only that, he sent ships to attack the English coast, which effectively forced the English out of the war.
Arlington continued. ‘Parliament refused to vote more money for the war unless the King revoked the measures he had taken to ameliorate the position of Catholics and removed them from any office they held under the Crown. The French knew then that the Treaty was a dead letter, because Charles would never be able to implement it. Jermyn’s stock fell, and it plummeted even more when news of the secret treaty leaked out. We have the Duke of Buckingham to thank for that. He sought to bring me down, but he misjudged the reactions of the King and Parliament. The King was deeply embarrassed by the disclosure of the secret treaty, and threw Buckingham out of the Privy Council. I am afraid that Buckingham then accused me of treason, and I feared for my neck, but His Majesty was graciously pleased to make peace with your country, as part of which we agreed to give no further aid to the French. Whatever you may think of me, Master Mercurius, I will carry out whatever happens to be the King’s pleasure at the time. Jermyn and Buckingham were so closely associated with the French alliance that they were compelled to resign.
‘Neither of them is wealthy, because they are both devoted to gambling. But Jermyn owned a large parcel of land near St James upon which he is building. His design is very grand; he aims to provide homes for the better sort of people in London, together with places of business and entertainment, and it may make him rich, but it has occupied all his time for some while. However, who knows if he and Buckingham have maintained connections with the French Court? They would certainly both like to see this marriage prevented.’
‘Do you think they would involve themselves in such a plot?’ I asked anxiously.
Arlington smiled thinly. ‘Jermyn never saw a plot he didn’t like.’
It was reassuring to see that Wevers was still where we had left him. The medical men had not yet arrived, so I busied myself in saying prayers over his body until they were announced. Sir Charles Scarburgh was the King’s own physician, a very learned gentleman and a graduate of both Cambridge and Oxford. He was a dark-haired man in his mid-fifties, with a prominent brow indicating, no doubt, a lot of brain beneath. He had unusually long fingers which he used dexterously as he went about his work.
Unfortunately, the King’s serjeant-surgeon had recently died, so in his place we were attended by Dr Nathaniel Hodges, a physician of repute who had done great service during the late plague in London. Hodges was a rather younger man, and a fervent proponent of the drinking of sack as a prophylactic against all manner of pestilence. During the great plague he had drunk several cups a day, and despite his close attendance upo
n the sick he had escaped infection. Now he liked to start the day with a large tumbler just in case he came across something contagious later, and it was fairly clear to me that he was playing it safe in case being stabbed with a dagger was contagious.
Introductions were effected, and we took our places, Scarburgh at the left side, Hodges to the right, and Arlington and I by the head.
‘Have you attended a post-mortem examination before?’ Scarburgh asked.
‘I have,’ I replied.
‘Good. Then you know what will happen. If you feel unwell, please leave. Don’t fall across the corpse. It is inconvenient and it might be dangerous.’
The doctors removed their coats and donned aprons.
‘Well, now there’s a curiosity, is there not?’ Scarburgh remarked.
Hodges obviously thought that something was expected of him, so he replied, ‘You refer to the dagger, sir?’
‘Indeed. I’ll warrant there’s no blood when we remove it. Shall we?’
Scarburgh made no move at all, having cast Hodges as his student for the day, so the younger man placed his hand flat on Wevers’ back and gently pulled on the weapon’s handle until it came free. Placing it on a towel, he offered it for inspection to us all.
‘That is not a dagger that has been inserted in a living man,’ Scarburgh opined. ‘Now, if one of you gentlemen will come to the feet, we shall turn him over.’
I gripped the ankles as instructed.
‘Push them together, sir! Let them move as one. Now, upon my command — one, two, three!’
Wevers flopped inelegantly on his back, and was pulled back into position by Hodges. We could immediately see a much more serious wound in Wevers’ chest which had bled profusely, the shirt being stiff with dried blood. Scarburgh teased the shirt open and laid his thumb alongside the wound.
‘I assume the dagger was not used for this wound, sir?’ I asked.
‘Quite correct. Plainly the dagger is too clean, but in any event this wound was made by a much narrower blade. A stiletto or something of the kind, and by the look of it at least six inches long. Let us remove his clothes and we can verify my guess.’
‘Before you do, may I check something?’ I asked.
Somewhat surprised, but willing to indulge me, Scarburgh gestured to me to come forward. I lifted Wevers’ left arm until it was nearly vertical, whereupon there was a clatter as his own poniard dropped out of the large cuff and onto the floor. I retrieved it and laid it in front of Scarburgh.
‘My word! How did you know that was there?’
‘I didn’t, but Wevers was a military man. I could not imagine he would not have a concealed weapon when he went abroad. Being right-handed, he would keep it in his left sleeve. And yet he had no opportunity to use it.’
‘Indeed, death surprised him, as it will us all one day. Now, this blade is much more like the one that pierced his breast.’
‘May I ask,’ Hodges enquired, ‘what this gentleman’s profession was?’
‘I have no idea,’ I said.
‘Come, sir, don’t be coy,’ said Scarburgh.
‘I am not coy,’ I said, not entirely sure what coy meant but divining from their tone that it was being suggested that I knew but was not telling them. ‘I had not met him before this mission, and I was not told what his purpose was. In fact,’ I added, to head off further impertinent questions, ‘I don’t know why most of the Dutch party are here.’ Including me, I thought.
‘Nevertheless,’ Scarburgh insisted, ‘you said he was a military man.’
‘My guess,’ I said. ‘I do not know it to be a fact. He carried himself like a military man.’
‘Well,’ said Scarburgh, ‘if military men step out with stilettos in their sleeves, we may surmise that a military man is just the sort of person who may have killed him.’
Yet Wevers did not appear to have defended himself at all. He plainly did not anticipate the blow that felled him, and I knew that his hands were as quick as mercury. Even someone a yard away would have been taking a risk. Was it possible that Wevers did not expect the blow because he knew his assassin? Could it have been another member of the Dutch party?
Whoever it was, I doubted that it was Vlisser. Vlisser was no fool, and he would hardly have made a point of sticking his own monogrammed dagger in the victim’s back, having previously killed him with something else, especially when the Thames was only a few dozen paces down the road. It was much more likely that the true killer was trying to throw the blame on Vlisser, but why? Was it important that it was Vlisser, or would any of us have sufficed?
The examination continued for some time, but I found no matter of particular interest to my enquiry. In due time the doctors had completed their gory work, and Scarburgh set about sewing Wevers back together again.
‘He was in fine physical condition when he died,’ he remarked.
‘Very sturdy,’ agreed Hodges.
‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘But he is just as dead as if he were an elderly sot.’
‘We take your point, Master,’ said Arlington, whose presence I had almost forgotten. ‘Let us come away, and take this dagger to His Majesty, if the doctors have no objection?’
They signalled that they had none.
‘Will we be allowed near him with it?’ I asked anxiously.
‘I think I may be,’ said Arlington, ‘if the blade be pointing at my own breast.’
I must have looked puzzled, because Arlington smiled.
‘That was a pleasantry, Master,’ he explained. ‘His Majesty knows I would do him no harm. If I had wanted to do so, I have had many opportunities over the years, believe me.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
As we ascended the stairs to the palace, an idea came to me. ‘May we examine Wevers’ room?’ I asked. ‘Perhaps there is something there that might tell us where he was going.’
Arlington readily agreed. ‘But I will have to find out where he was accommodated,’ he added.
‘It’s close to my room. We shared the same maid.’
Arlington led the way, as a result of which I now knew another route to my corridor, though I very much doubted if I would ever find it again. On the way, Arlington despatched a servant to bring him a paper which described the room allocations.
The corridor had a passageway along one side, with four rooms to our right. The first, it seemed, was Bouwman’s. Next to him was Preuveneers’, then mine, and finally Wevers’. At that point the corridor turned to the right and then forked, with another corridor leading to the left where other members of our party were housed. Vlisser’s room was the second one on that corridor. Van Langenburg was in more luxurious apartments on the floor below, I discovered.
As I expected, the doors were unlocked — in fact, they could not be locked. The first thing I observed on entering Wevers’ room was that it was colder than mine. The fire had died down and the grate had not been cleaned out. His bed had not been slept in, of course, and on the end of the counterpane lay a shirt and some hose for laundering. We worked steadily around the room, looking for any notes or other evidence of an appointment.
‘Surely if it ever existed he would have burned it?’ suggested Arlington.
I looked in the grate, but I could see no evidence of burnt papers. ‘Lord Arlington, suppose that the appointment was made verbally, and that Wevers was a stranger to your city. What landmark could he have been given as a meeting-place, easy to find, ideally one where a foreigner such as he might not be remarkable?’
‘Clearly the riverside teems with foreigners. And there are any number of taverns there with simple signboards.’
‘Indeed, but Wevers would have been wary about going into any low drinking place on his own. The meeting-place must have been more public.’
Arlington’s face lit up. ‘The Savoy!’
‘What is this Savoy?’ I asked.
‘A hospital, with chapels and so on. It lies on the riverside, two or three hundred yards from St Martin’s. It was designated
as a hospital for those injured in the Dutch Wars, but it also houses chapels for non-conformists. There is, for example, a German Lutheran church within its precincts, so respectable foreigners are often to be seen there.’
‘A church or chapel would be a good meeting-place. But surely there is a much shorter route from here to there along the river?’
‘Yes, but you will recall that Wevers was being followed. There would be little opportunity to throw off a follower on the embankment. And he may have wanted to give the impression that he was with your party.’
It was all becoming clearer. Wevers would have an appointment, let us say at around seven o’clock, which would make sense because it was after six o’clock when I had bumped into Bouwman and joined the party. When we arrived at St Martin’s and separated into the two groups, none of us noticed Wevers slipping off to keep his appointment, and he no doubt intended to rejoin us at nine o’clock when the parties reconvened. We had no idea what the appointment could have been about, or with whom it was made, but was it likely that anyone could have slipped out, killed Wevers and come back without any of us noticing? I would have said not, were it not for the incontrovertible fact that none of us had remarked on Wevers’ own absence.
Another mystery was nagging at me too. There had been a lot of blood on the cobbles, and Wevers’ shirt was thick with clotted blood. It seemed unlikely that anyone who stabbed him could have avoided being splashed, and yet I noticed no traces on anyone in Laurel’s dinner party. Did that mean that the killer was in the other section that had gone with Dawkins? But we had stood together in good light outside St Martin-in-the-Fields when we met again, and nobody was spotted with blood. They might, perhaps, have concealed it with a cloak, but if Wevers had died early in the evening, as seemed to be the case, they could hardly have worn the cloak all night in company.
When we found his body, Wevers had been dead for some time. He was becoming cold to the touch; and since he was found no more than three hours after we had all set off from Whitehall, that surely supported the notion that he had died nearer to seven o’clock than nine.