The Frost Fair cr-4

by Edward Marston

  'He takes his work very seriously.'

  "There's nothing more I can tell him.' His manner softened slightly. 'I was sorry to hear that you'd been attacked beside the river,' he said. 'Do you have any idea who the man was?'

  'No, Sir Humphrey, but he was not content with giving me a dip in the Thames. If my guess is correct, he came back yesterday and attacked me with a cudgel. I still have the bruises to show for it.'

  'Two assaults on you? Why?'

  'To stop me finding out the truth about the murder.'

  'You think that he was the killer?'

  'I did, Sir Humphrey, but I'm not so sure now.' He appraised the other man. 'You look as if you are off on a pleasant afternoon stroll,' he observed. 'Nobody would suspect that one of your friends was rotting in Newgate on a charge of murder.'

  'A false charge, Mr Redmayne.'

  'It feels authentic enough to Henry. Why not go and ask him?'

  'That's what Martin was saying to me. He may have been but I see no virtue in going to a prison. Henry knows that I'll back him. I stand by my friends.'

  'Does that go for Captain Harvest as well?' He saw the other man tense. 'Jonathan must have told you how he ripped the mask off him. That's the value of being grim and tenacious, Sir Humphrey. You sniff out fraud. How much money did you give to your friend?'

  'Nothing, sir.'

  'Mr Crenlowe was certain that he'd come cap-in-hand to you first.'

  'I've seen no sign of James - or whatever his name is.'

  'Would you have told me, if you had?'

  'No,' snapped Sir Humphrey. 'It's no business of yours.'

  'It is if your friend was implicated in the murder of Signor Maldini.'

  "That's an absurd notion.'

  'Mr Crenlowe shares it. Is that what the two of you were arguing about?'

  'No!'

  'Or was he reproaching you for lending money to a proven impostor?'

  'What Martin and I said is a matter between the two of us.' He made an effort to rein in his temper. 'Listen, Mr Redmayne. I admire you for what you are doing and I'll be the first to congratulate Henry when this ridiculous charge is finally exposed for what it is. Beyond that, there's nothing I can do.'

  'You might try telling the truth, Sir Humphrey.'

  'That's an insult!'

  'It was not meant to be,' said Christopher. 'It's a heartfelt plea for information that can lead us to the man who did kill the fencing master. You may choose to absolve the man known as Captain Harvest but I'd not dispense with him so easily. He has much to answer for, Sir Humphrey. Where can we find him?'

  'How should I know?'

  'Because you are the person to whom he's likely to turn.'

  'Well, he did not!' rejoined the other, reddening visibly. 'Do you and Mr Bale not understand the English language? James - Captain Harvest -call him what you will - has not been anywhere near me. Now, you can either believe me or not.'

  After looking him full in the eye, Christopher mounted his horse again.

  'I think that I prefer to believe Jonathan Bale,' he said.

  A return to the Hope and Anchor, and a second visit to the tenement, had both been in vain. Hannah Liggett was not in the former and had not been seen in the latter since the previous day. Jonathan had once again taken the precaution of shedding the attire he wore as a constable. Dressed as a shipwright and walking beside the river, he felt the pull of his old trade. It had been laborious work but it had brought in a regular wage and was fraught with none of the hazards he met as a humble constable. The moments he had savoured most were when the ships he had helped to build were finally launched into service. Even those occasions, however, rewarding as they were, did not give him the intense satisfaction he got from arresting a dangerous criminal.

  After eating a frugal dinner in an ordinary, he trudged back along Thames Street. What he expected to glean from a visit to the prison, he did not know but he felt that he should at least try to speak to Henry Redmayne. He also wanted to find out how the man had coped with imprisonment. That could be telling. When he got to Newgate, he reported to the prison sergeant who recognised him at once.

  'What's this, Jonathan?' he said, looking at his clothing. 'A constable no more?'

  'I'm an officer of the law, whatever I wear.'

  'Who have you brought for us today?'

  'Nobody, Isaac,' said Jonathan. 'I've come to visit a prisoner. Henry Redmayne.'

  'Mr Redmayne, eh?' The sergeant checked his ledger. 'He's a popular man.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'You're the third visitor today. His father was here this morning, a reverend gentleman with an air of holiness about him. The other man has just gone to him.'

  'Was it his brother?'

  'No, it was a strange, haunted fellow,' said the sergeant. 'But he was generous to me so I'll not keep him from his friend. Here!' he called, snapping his fingers at a turnkey. 'Show Mr Bale where he can find Henry Redmayne.

  'How has he behaved while he's been in here, Isaac?'

  'Quiet as a lamb, Jonathan. We'd be happy to have more like him.'

  The turnkey unlocked a door so that Jonathan could follow him through it. After locking it behind them, he led the constable down a long, cold, featureless passageway with the footsteps echoing on the cold stone. When they turned a corner, the turnkey pointed to a cell door that was open at the far end. A slim young man was being ushered in by another turnkey who locked him in with the prisoner.

  'That's Mr Redmayne's cell,' said Jonathan's companion. 'You'll have to wait. There's no room in there for three of you.'

  Jonathan thanked him and strode on down to where the other turnkey was waiting.

  'I've permission to see Mr Redmayne.'

  'Everybody wants to see him today,' replied the man, curling a lip.

  'Who's in there now?'

  'A friend of his.'

  'Did he give a name?' asked Jonathan peering through the grill. A loud gurgling sound came from inside the cell. 'Quick!' he yelled. 'Open the door!'

  'Why?'

  'Open the door, man!'

  Grabbing the key from him, Jonathan unlocked the door and dived into the cell, Henry Redmayne was on his knees, his face purple as his visitor tightened the cord that was around his neck. Jonathan punched the attacker on the nose and sent him sprawling into the straw. Before he could recover, Jonathan pounded him with a fierce relay of blows until he was too weak to fight back. Blood streamed freely from the man's nose. Henry, meanwhile was spluttering in the corner. Watching from the doorway, the turnkey tried to defend himself.

  'I searched him for weapons. How was I to know he had that cord with him?'

  'Take hold of him,' ordered Jonathan, lifting the other visitor from the floor with one hand and pushing him into the arms of the turnkey. 'He should never have been allowed in here. I'll speak to the prison sergeant about this.'

  The turnkey hustled the man out. Jonathan turned to Henry, who was still holding his throat and retching. He put an arm around the prisoner's shoulder.'

  'How are you now, sir?' he asked.

  'Grateful you came, Mr Bale,' gasped Henry. 'You saved my life.'

  'Who was he?'

  'A madman. As soon as he came into the cell, he tried to strangle me.'

  'Do you know his name, sir?'

  'Oh, yes,' said Henry, finding it painful to speak. 'It's Pietro Maldini.'

  'Maldini?'

  'He thinks I killed his brother.'

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sir Ralph Holcroft and his wife were the first to leave the house in the Strand and the other guests soon followed. Nobody had eaten more voraciously at the table than Mrs Cardinal, who was so bloated that she had to be helped into the parlour by her son. The chair creaked beneath her weight as she lowered herself into it and she began to wheeze badly. Jack Cardinal was dispatched upstairs to fetch one of her potions. His mother would not accept that she had brought the discomfort on herself. She turned to Susan Cheever, who sat beside
her.

  'The cook was to blame,' she said, raising a hand to cover a discreet belch. 'The choice was too great and the quantities too large. It would have been discourteous to our hosts to refuse such exquisite food.'

  'Yes, Mrs Cardinal,' said Susan.

  "Though you seemed to partake of very little.'

  'What I ate, I enjoyed immensely. I'm not used to such rich dishes.'

  'Nor am 1,' complained Mrs Cardinal, shifting her position on the chair to ease the pain in her stomach. 'The lamprey pie was a mistake. At home in Richmond, our fare is rather simpler, as you will discover when you visit us.'

  'Thank you.'

  'But I'll not forget this dinner for a long time, I know that.'

  'Nor will I,' said Susan.

  Cardinal arrived with the potion and helped his mother to take a small amount.

  'Keep it by me, Jack,' she said, 'in case I need to have some more.'

  'Yes, Mother,' he agreed, sitting opposite her.

  'You are a proper physician, Mr Cardinal,' observed Susan. 'Whenever your mother sends for some medicine, you know exactly which one to bring.'

  'I'd be lost without Jack,' said Mrs Cardinal, beaming at him. 'Now, then,' she went on, nudging Susan gently, 'let me into your little secret. I watched the pair of you talking for hours at the table. What was the subject of your conversation?'

  'Anything but politics.'

  'It's true, Mother,' said Cardinal. 'Though her father sits in Parliament, Miss Cheever has little interest in what happens there. Neither do I when I hear the kind of ceaseless banter that was filling' the house earlier on. It was tedious. We preferred to talk about the merits of living in the country.'

  'And what conclusion did you reach?' asked his mother.

  'We agreed that rural pleasures had the greater appeal.'

  'Not that the city is without its charms,' added Susan. 'Especially when it's as large and exciting as London. I know nothing of politics but I was nevertheless fascinated to meet so many important people from that world. It was a privilege to be at a table where the leading issues of the day were being discussed so earnestly. When my father talks about such things, he tends to rant and rave. A much more civilised debate went on at the table.'

  'Lord and Lady Eames always hold a dinner party like that in our honour.'

  'I'm very grateful to have been part of it, Mrs Cardinal.'

  'You'll meet more of our illustrious friends in time,' said the old woman grandly, 'but we must not forget one of the other reasons for this trip to London.'

  Cardinal smiled. 'Mother wishes to visit some of the shops.'

  'I intend to visit all of the shops, Jack. I begin tomorrow morning.'

  'Then you'll have to manage without me, Mother, for I have an appointment with my lawyer. However,' he said, turning to Susan, 'I'm sure that Miss Cheever will be happy to accompany you on your mission.'

  'I'd not dream of going without her and I daresay that Miss Cheever would feel hurt if I did.' She clapped her hands. 'Tomorrow morning, it will be, then.'

  'I'm afraid not,' said Susan. 'I already have a commitment.'

  Mrs Cardinal was peremptory. 'Cancel it. I need you with me.'

  'It's not possible to cancel it, Mrs Cardinal. I've already accepted the invitation.'

  'From whom?'

  'Lady Holcroft. She's picking me up in her coach at ten o'clock.'

  Susan had to contain her amusement at their reaction. Jack Cardinal's mouth fell open in surprise and his mother began to quiver all over, astonished that Susan had aroused such interest in

  Lady Holcroft and peeved that she had been robbed of a companion on an expedition to the shops. Grabbing the potion from her son, she took another swig from the bottle.

  By the time that Christopher Redmayne arrived at the prison, his brother had recovered from the shock of the attack in his cell but his neck still bore an ugly red souvenir. He stroked it ruefully as he explained what had happened. Christopher was shinned.

  'He tried to kill you, Henry?'

  'He would have succeeded, had not your friend, Mr Bale, pulled him off me. I could never bring myself to like that constable but I owe him my sincere gratitude.'

  'I hope that you had the grace to tell him that.'

  'I did my best,' said Henry, 'though my throat was on fire at the time.'

  'Why did they let the man into your cell in the first place?'

  'He told them he was a friend and bribed the prison sergeant.'

  'Did nobody suspect that he was Jeronimo Maldini's brother?'

  'He gave a false name, it seems, and his English is good. He's lived here much longer than his brother. Pietro is a musician,' said Henry, still rubbing his neck. 'Perhaps that's why I felt I was being strangled with a lute string.'

  'Where is he now?'

  'Being charged with attempted murder. I know one thing, Christopher. If they keep him in Newgate, I've no wish to share a cell with him or with any other member of the Maldini family. They are much too hot-blooded for me.'

  'Before too long,' said Christopher, 'you won't even be in here.'

  'No, I'll be dangling from the end of a rope.'

  Henry looked more harassed than ever. His brother had brought another change of clothing for him but Henry showed no interest in it. The visit from his father had left him thoroughly jangled and the attack had shaken him even more. As long as he was in prison, he felt, he was at the mercy of everyone. The promised release seemed no nearer.

  'Father was impressed by the way you conducted yourself today,' said Christopher. 'He felt that you were showing true contrition.'

  'I'd have shown anything just to get rid of him.'

  'Henry!'

  'He kept on and on at me, Christopher. I felt that I was strapped into a pew at the cathedral while he directed a venomous sermon at me. At least, that crazed Italian tried to put me out of my misery quickly. Father raged on until I was reduced to tears.'

  'He only does it out of love for you,' said Christopher. 'And you must admit that you do give him good reason to censure you. Your life is so irregular.'

  'All that I can think about now is my death.'

  'No more of that kind of talk!' warned his brother. 'You promised me.'

  Henry sighed. 'I'm sorry, but the whole world seems to have turned against me.'

  'Not entirely, Henry. Those who know you best still believe in you.'

  'Thank you.' He took the apparel from his brother and put it on the stool. 'What really hurt me about Father's visit was the way that he harped on about you. Because of me, he said, there'd been a second attempt on your life. That upset me more than anything else, Christopher. Were you injured in any way?'

  'Cuts and bruises. Nothing serious.'

  'It's always serious when someone tries to kill you. I discovered that earlier on. It was a dreadful experience but there's one consolation to be drawn from it.'

  'What's that?'

  'Pietro Maldini won't be able to attack either of us again.'

  Christopher blinked. 'You believe that he was the man who stalked me?'

  'I'm certain of it,' said Henry. 'He confessed as much. I'd killed his brother, he told me, so he'd tried to murder mine. When he failed to do that, he decided to throttle me instead, even though he knew that he'd be throwing his own life away as well. They'd never have let him out of here.'

  'They should never have let him in.'

  'Somehow, they did. It means that you can stop watching your back.'

  Christopher was strangely disappointed. When he heard about the assault on his brother, he had never connected Pietro Maldini with himself. He was so convinced that his attacker had been involved in the murder of the fencing master that it took him some

  time to accept the truth. He had simply been stalked by a vengeful Italian brother. He chided himself for being misled.

  'Did you have a chance to talk to Jonathan Bale?' he asked.

  'No, he went off to make sure that they locked that lunatic up. An
d he was going to protest to the prison sergeant on my behalf. They've a duty to keep me safe in here.'

  'And to prevent you from harming yourself,' said Christopher, remembering the razor that had been dropped into the cell. 'Well, if you've not spoken to Jonathan, you've not heard about Captain Harvest.'

  'What's that reprobate been up to now?'

  'Quite a lot, Henry.'

  Christopher told him what Jonathan had found out then described how Martin Crenlowe and Sir Humphrey Godden had responded to the news. Henry was sour.

  'The villain!' he cried. 'What was his real name?'

  'We still haven't found that out.'

  'Martin never really trusted him. I, for my sins, did. Sir Humphrey was the one who gave him the most money but, then, he had much more to give than the rest of us.'

  'Was he close to Captain Harvest?'

  'Not really, Christopher. None of us were. Why do you ask?'

  'Because I think that there's some link between them that goes beyond a casual friendship. When the captain wanted to borrow money, the first person he always turned to was Sir Humphrey Godden. What did Sir Humphrey get in return?'

  'James could be a very engaging companion.'

  'I think that it may go deeper than that. Mr Crenlowe has been fairly helpful but Sir Humphrey has been awkward with both Jonathan and me. Why? He's supposed to be on your side.'

  'He is, Christopher. We've been friends for years.'

  "There's been precious little evidence of that friendship. He clearly has a short temper. When I called on him earlier, he was having a quarrel with Mr. Crenlowe. I had the feeling that it might be about the so-called Captain Harvest.'

  'One way and another, James has caused so much bother.'

  . 'It may be a lot more than bother, Henry.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Supposing - for the sake of argument - that your fake soldier had a hold over Sir Humphrey. Supposing, for instance, that Sir Humphrey had employed him on a very important assignment.'

  'Assignment?'

  "The murder of Jeronimo Maldini.'

  "That's impossible!'

  'Is it? We know that Sir Humphrey loathed the man as much as you.'

  'Yes, but James liked him. He and that scheming Italian were friends.'