Precious Bones

by Irina Shapiro

  Chapter 58

  Constance awoke and glanced at the window. She could just see the sky beginning to lighten outside, and the soft sound of falling rain was beating on the wooden shutters. She snuggled deeper into the covers and moved closer to Richard. He was breathing evenly, his body relaxed in sleep. She lay quietly, not wanting to wake him, and put her hand over her belly. There was no movement yet, but she was certain she was with child. She hadn’t bled since before her wedding to Richard, and she could feel subtle changes in her breasts and abdomen. She closed her eyes and tried to think of what their baby would be like. She hoped for a boy. She knew Richard would like that. She had seen his close relationship with William, and knew that he would relish having a son to teach and guide. Connie must have dozed off again because when she woke up it was fully light outside, if somewhat gray, and the rain had stopped. She listened closely.

  Usually, Agnes was up at dawn lighting the fire, fetching water, and kneading dough for fresh bread, but today there were no sounds coming from downstairs, and Connie wondered if Agnes had overslept. It wasn’t like her, but everyone was allowed the occasional lapse. Constance rose from the bed and threw on her wrapper, slipping out of the room. She checked downstairs. The hearth was cold, full of old, acrid ashes. Agnes had not been to the kitchen this morning. She walked up the stairs to the attic to rouse the girl. It was time she got up and went about her business. It was well past 8am. Connie knocked softly on the door, to avoid waking William. Let the little boy sleep, she thought. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Even with the shutters closed, Connie could see that the bed was empty. Mother and son were gone, as were all their meager possessions.

  Oh, dear Lord, Connie thought. She raced outside, her bare feet slipping on the wet stones. The carriage was in its usual place, but the horses were gone. John’s loft was empty and silent, and Connie felt her heart plunge into her belly. She ran back inside and up the stairs to wake Richard. He shot out of bed when he heard her running, and was already pulling on his clothes by the time Connie exploded through the door.

  “Richard, they are gone. Agnes, William and John are gone and they took the horses.”

  “Connie, get dressed. We must leave immediately. Do not take anything. Hurry!” Richard was already getting his pistol and taking a bag of coin out of the dresser drawer. He buckled on his sword belt and slid his dagger into his boot. Connie tucked her hair into a cap and threw on her velvet cloak over her gown. Richard grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the stairs, grabbing his hat and coat on the way to the door. The door came crashing open just as they reached the first floor, a group of soldiers swarming inside, as they grabbed Richard and forced him to his knees. His sword was pulled out of the scabbard, and his pistol taken away. A man she had never seen before stood in front of her husband and unrolled a document, reading loudly and slowly.

  “Richard Carlisle, you are hereby placed under arrest for the murder of Sir Edward Norris. You are to be taken from this place to the Tower of London, where you will be held until your trial. Any attempt to resist arrest will result in bodily harm.” He added the last bit just for good measure, as the men began to drag Richard out the door.

  “Go to Carter Lane, Connie. You will be safe there.” Richard tried to smile at her as they shoved him through the door and into a waiting coach. The house was suddenly quiet again and Connie sank down on the step, putting her head against the wooden wall paneling. John had betrayed them. Or maybe it was Agnes. She was much cleverer than John by far. With the reward from Lady Norris, they could live a very comfortable life and never work again. Their future would be taken care of at the expense of Connie and Richard’s. John wasn’t there when Norris died, but it didn’t matter. His testimony would be damning enough to have Richard convicted. He might be in prison for a long time if found guilty.

  Connie rose to her feet, feeling shaky and dizzy. She let herself out of the house, locking the door behind her, and walked down the street towards Carter Lane. The rain was falling again, but she didn’t put on her hood, or even feel the droplets running down her flushed face. Her hair and feet were soaked by the time she knocked on the door and Jane led her into the parlor, settling her in front of the fire, not even asking what went wrong. They had already heard that the murderer had been apprehended and taken to the Tower on information from a faithful and loyal subject of Her Majesty. All they could do now was wait.

  Chapter 59

  Connie pulled the hood of her cape over her head and stepped out into the street. A cold mist was permeating the air and seeping straight into her bones. The gutters were choked with rotting leaves and refuse, and the smell of fish was very strong off the river today. Connie shivered and walked briskly down the street, keeping her head down to keep the mist out of her eyes. A friar clad in a black robe and worn sabots ran past her, carrying a large parcel and slipping on the wet stones, his pink tonsure glistening with moisture.

  Secretary Walsingham had agreed to see her today, and she didn’t want to be late for the appointment. Richard had spoken highly of him and said that he was a just man. Walsingham was her only hope. Richard’s trial was scheduled for October 15th and there was no time to lose. Tom offered to come with Connie, but she refused. She wanted to do this alone. Her brother had suffered enough, and she didn’t want to bring him to Walsingham’s attention, although he knew full well who Thomas Thorne was.

  Connie was shivering in her damp cloak by the time she reached Whitehall, and was escorted to Walsingham’s rooms, and ordered to wait in the small chamber adjoining his lair. Connie held out her chilled hands to the fire, but the warmth from the dancing flames did little to warm her. Her insides were chilled with fear, and nothing but a promise from the old man would dispel that chill. The young manservant summoned her inside, and she walked through the heavy wooden door to the chamber beyond. It was dim, the light hardly penetrating the leaded windows, only the light from the fire illuminating the room. Walsingham sat at a long, carved, wooden table meant for twenty, his back held stiff against the hard back of the carved chair. He watched Connie with interest as she entered and invited her to sit down.

  “How can I assist you, Mistress Carlisle?” His shrewd eyes watched her from under lowered lids, his fingers steepled under his chin as if he was lost in concentration.

  “Mr. Secretary, my husband has spoken very highly of your intellect and strength of character. He believes you to be a just and fair man. I beg you to intervene on his behalf. The trial is in three days and I fear the outcome.”

  “My dear lady, your husband is an honest man, almost too honest to be a good employee for someone in this line of work. I have no doubt that if he truly killed Sir Edward, he had a very good reason to do so, but the evidence is enough to convict him of the crime. I am afraid there is nothing I can do to make it go away. Your very own servant and his wife have given evidence to the fact that your husband went to seek out Sir Edward, and came back two hours later in bloodstained garments, carrying a blood stainedsword, having found you and Sir Edward in the church. Was it jealousy that drove him to murder?”

  “Norris kidnapped me and held me against my will. He made threats and spoke of killing Richard. What choice did he have?” Connie tried to maintain her temper and not provoke the old man. She knew he was playing with her. His mind was already made up.

  “Constance, Sir Edward was a hard and unforgiving man, but he was a favorite of the Queen. He is a distant kinsman of hers, did you know that? His wife was once a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and Her Majesty holds the Norrises in high regard. If the circumstances were different, she might be inclined to be merciful, but having Norris uncover a plot to murder her only weeks before, she is in no mood to forgive his killer, whatever his reasons might have been. I am afraid there is nothing I can do to assist you. The trial will go on as planned, and I fear the outcome will not be to your liking. Edward Norris is not someone you want to get on the wrong side of, even in death.”

&n
bsp; Constance knew the interview was over. She had done her best, but the old man was not about to stick his neck out for someone who was obviously doomed. Connie fought to control her tears as she left the palace and headed back home. She hadn’t been to their house since the arrest and now she thought of Tom and Jane’s house as home. She couldn’t go back unless Richard was coming with her. She heard that John had married Agnes and they set up house together somewhere across the Thames with the money they received from Lady Norris. She wondered if John felt any guilt at betraying them, but she thought that Agnes would make sure his guilt was quickly forgotten.

  Tomorrow she would try to go see Richard. She had tried visiting him in the Tower before, but had been turned away. Tomorrow she would try to bribe the guard. She had to see him before the trial. Connie sighed and walked back, forgetting about the cold and the rain. She had greater things to worry about.

  Chapter 60

  Richard sat on a backless chair made of rough wood, his elbows on the table in front of him. The table was just a square of unpolished pine and was the only other piece of furniture, if it could actually be described as furniture, in his cell. There was a pallet of dirty straw in the corner, moving of its own volition with the vermin that was no doubt crawling inside. The single candle in a pewter candlestick did little to dispel the gloom of the cell, and the steady sound of dripping water interfered with his ability to concentrate. Richard knew there were torture cells in the cellar, but mercifully, he could not hear the screams emanating from them day and night.

  He had been in the Tower for over two weeks now, but it felt more like two years. He had not been permitted any visitors, other than some minor nobleman sent by the Queen asking him to sign a confession. He refused. He knew that a trial was his only hope, although with John and Agnes’ damning testimony, he was as good as dead anyway. The evidence against him was purely circumstantial, but his judges would likely not care. They needed to show the Queen that crime against her Majesty’s subjects was being punished to the full extent of the law, and they were working day and night to keep her and the Realm safe.

  Richard did not have anyone to champion his cause and he wasn’t naïve enough to think that Walsingham would do anything to intervene. He had been a friend to his father, but the Secretary did not get to where he was by being a good friend. To sacrifice someone for the greater good was standard procedure and Walsingham would not allow his conscience to be troubled by the death of his spy. He had not been a very good spy either. Richard had to admit that he was not cut out for a life of espionage. Compassion and conscience did not go well with throwing people to the lions. He preferred to gather intelligence and analyze the findings rather than focus on actual individuals. He had to admit that he had even felt pity for Babington. He was a misguided fool, but he was passionate and willing to risk his life for what he believed in. Much good it did him.

  Richard’s thoughts were interrupted by the jangle of keys as his guard walked down the dark passage. His jailer came twice a day; once at dawn to bring him a stale heel of bread and some ale, and once more in the evening bringing a bowl of gruel and more ale. It was time for the evening meal, and Richard hoped against hope that it might be something other than the gray paste that he normally got. He rolled up the piece of paper he had been staring at and cleared the table. He would start again in the morning. He had given the guard his gold ring in exchange for some paper and ink, and was trying to compose a letter to his wife, but the words did not come easily. This might be his only chance to communicate with her, and he wanted to make sure he conveyed everything he needed to say.

  The low door swung open, but the burly guard stepped aside to let someone in. Richard rose out of his chair when he saw Constance enter the cell. She looked frightened and pale, but she ran to him and threw her arms around him before the guard could stop her.

  “Keep yer distance, woman. I won’t have ye slipping him a dagger or something worse. Stay back and say yer piece.” The guard grumbled, but did not pull them apart. Richard heard the metallic sound of coins coming from the vicinity of his ample gut and knew Constance had given him a purse.

  “I’ll be back in five minutes. Ye best be finished by then.” With that he walked out, leaving them in the cell.

  “Connie, are you all right? Are you staying with Tom?” Richard held her back by the shoulders, taking in her pallor and loss of weight.

  “I am all right. I have been with Tom and Jane. They are taking good care of me. But what of you?” Connie did not remark on the fact that Richard looked awful. He had not been allowed any water to wash, or a razor to shave. His hair was matted and his shirt was soiled and soaked through with sweat and filth from the dirty straw. Connie drew out a small parcel from under her cloak. She brought some bread, cheese and cold meat knowing that Richard probably wasn’t getting proper food. He took the parcel eagerly and placed it on the table.

  “Thank you, love. That will come in handy. Connie, we don’t have much time. The trial is in two days, and I have no doubt I will be convicted. You know what that means. I want you to promise me that you will not come to the trial or anything that follows. Take care of yourself and our child. Knowing that you are safe will give me comfort in my final hours.”

  “Oh, Richard, none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.”

  “My dearest Constance, I have made many mistakes in my life, but you were never one of them. You were the only truly good thing that ever happened to me and I am grateful for meeting you, despite causing you all this grief. We have not had much time in this life, but maybe we’ll meet again in the next, assuming Protestants and Catholics ever wind up at the same place,” he said with a rueful smile. “Promise me you will take care of yourself and be careful.”

  “I promise.” Connie tried not to cry, but her efforts were in vain, as Richard held her against him, stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort. The door opened behind them. The guard pulled Connie away roughly by the arm, pushing her out of the cell before him and locking the door. Richard waited until their steps receded before he allowed himself to cry.

  Chapter 61

  Tom forbade Constance to go to the trial. It was held at the Blackfriars Monastery on the banks of the Thames, and was presided over by ten noblemen chosen especially for the task. Some of them had been friends of Richard’s at Court, but all allegiances were now forgotten. People poured in to watch the trial of the murderer, and seats filled up within a few minutes, with only standing room left. The judges walked in and took their seats, arranging themselves with all the pomp and circumstance due to the enforcers of Her Majesty’s justice. Tom watched as Richard was brought in to the hisses and boos of the crowd. He had been allowed to wash and shave, but he still looked pale and gaunt in the gray light of the autumn afternoon. He took his place in the dock and the trial began.

  Robert Wilcox, head of the committee stood up, unrolled a document slowly and read the charge.

  “Richard Albert Carlisle, you are hereby accused of killing three men in cold blood on the evening of September 20th of this year. The three victims were in service to the Crown and were loyal and faithful subjects of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth I. If found guilty, you will be sentenced to death. Do you understand the charges against you?”

  Richard inclined his head to affirm understanding and Wilcox proceeded. “This court would like to call John Coombs to the stand.” John walked to the witness box without meeting Richard’s eye. He recalled how Richard came home on September 20th covered in blood and bragging of the murders, but forgot to mention that he was stopped on his way home from Carter Lane, beaten, and sent home with a message to his master to meet Edward Norris in the church where he was holding his wife hostage.

  The next witness was Agnes Coombs, wife of John Coombs, and former employee of the accused. She swept past Richard, looking respectable in a gown of blue satin and a demure cap on her head. She stood in the witness box, looking frightened and unsure until she was orde
red to speak. As soon as Agnes began her testimony, all pretense at fright was dropped and she was enjoying the performance.

  “Well, your Honors, the master went running off that evening like the devil himself was after him. He took his pistol, strapped on his sword, and hid a dagger in his boot. He was obviously preparing to do injury to someone,” she confided to the audience. “John, my husband that is, and I, were ever so scared. I told my son, William to go stay in his room in case the master should return in a temper, which he often did. The master and mistress finally came home not two hours later. The master put away the pistol and unbuckled his bloody sword, and then took his time wiping the blood off as it dripped onto the kitchen floor. I nearly had a turn, I did. He said, calm as you please, that he skewered those villains at the church and then stabbed Sir Edward through the heart. He was pleased as punch. Well, as soon as they went up to their bedchamber I said to John that we must get away from this house of sin as soon as possible, and report what we have seen to the proper authorities. We are good and loyal subjects to Her Majesty and want to see justice done.”

  “Thank you Mistress Coombs. That is a very detailed account. No doubt Lady Norris appreciated your devotion to duty.”

  “She did, indeed, Your Honor. She was ever so grateful to know who had done her husband in, and was very generous in her gratitude. We will never forget her kindness.” Agnes stepped down from the witness box and sashayed back to her seat. Richard never looked at her, but Tom could only imagine what he must have been feeling during her testimony. Constance had told him how Richard took in Agnes and her baby when she was alone and penniless. He had given them a home and protection, and treated William as if he was his own son. He taught the boy to read and write, and promised Agnes that he would see to his education once the boy got older. Now Agnes’ testimony would be used to convict Richard, his kindness forgotten.