‘Heron’s report said that he left his cottage the day before Mistress Cobbold’s funeral,’ said Walsingham. ‘Would that be correct?’
I cast my mind back to what Anthony Cobbold had told me and then said yes. ‘That would be the seventh of July.’
‘And yesterday was the tenth, and my men think he was killed that same day, not so very long before they found him.’ Walsingham sat down by the clerks’ table and drummed his fingers on it. ‘Two clear days in between, during which he acquired a cipher letter and presumably an errand to go with it. He was surely on his way to deliver that message to someone. I wish we could read it but so far it seems to have defeated my people. Someone,’ said Walsingham, ‘gave him the letter. Probably exchanged his donkey for a horse as well, though whoever killed him no doubt stole the horse. But who wrote that letter and where was Jarvis taking it?’
‘Let’s take it point by point,’ said Cecil. ‘Firstly, the man Jarvis occupied a cottage that Jane Cobbold had provided. Secondly, within days of Jane Cobbold being mysteriously murdered, Jarvis disappears. It looked then as though he feared to be accused. Thirdly, he now turns up dead, far from home, with a cipher letter – that’s suspicious in itself – on him. And fourthly, he met his death by a stab to the heart just as Mistress Cobbold did, except that this time, the killer didn’t leave the dagger behind. What does all that suggest to you, Ursula?’
Dale and Mellot had both been silent up to now, but at this point, Dale opened her mouth and Mellot, seeing it, put a hand on her shoulder and said quietly: ‘Wait. Let your mistress speak.’
Dale choked back an outburst but looked at me with anguish and pleading. I spoke for us both when I replied to Cecil.
‘It suggests,’ I said, ‘a connection between those two deaths. Which further suggests that something very odd is going on at Cobbold Hall. Something that has nothing whatsoever to do with Jane Cobbold’s gossiping tongue or Roger Brockley’s opinion of it, which supports my belief that Brockley has been wrongly arrested. I came here today to implore your help in getting him released. Murder – stabbing Jane Cobbold – just isn’t the sort of thing Brockley could or would ever do. But now there are even better reasons for saying that he’s innocent. It seems at least possible that whoever killed Mistress Cobbold also killed Jarvis. Please, can you help?’
‘There could simply have been a coincidence,’ said Walsingham, ‘and Jarvis was attacked by footpads while running away because he was afraid he would be accused of murdering Mistress Cobbold. Whether he really did so or not.’
‘In that case,’ I said, ‘where does the cipher letter come in? And there are two gardeners – not related to each other or to Jarvis – who say that Jarvis couldn’t possibly have killed Jane Cobbold. So why should he run away?’
‘Perhaps Sir Edward Heron should have those gardeners questioned again,’ said Walsingham.
‘That could be wise,’ Cecil said. ‘But the cipher letter is more important. It needs explaining. It certainly doesn’t fit in with Brockley as the murderer. I agree with Mistress Stannard that a very definite doubt has been cast on the charge against Roger Brockley. We may be able to get him released on bail. Can you put up bail for him, Ursula? Walsingham and I have to remain neutral, at least on the surface.’
‘I’ll sell Withysham if I have to,’ I said. ‘Yes. I can offer whatever bail Heron demands.’
‘The queen gave you Withysham,’ Cecil said. ‘I’d be sorry to see you lose it. Make sure that Brockley doesn’t flee the country! We shall send word to Heron recommending that he consents to bail. We can’t go further than that but he’ll probably take the recommendation as a command. If so, I daresay he will be in touch with you very soon after your return to Hawkswood, to arrange the details.’
‘Ma’am,’ said Dale appealingly.
Once more, I looked at her. Her eyes beseeched me. I knew what she was asking. I was already asking it of myself although I had no more idea than Cecil how I should set about it.
‘Ma’am,’ said Dale again. ‘Please!’
I said. ‘Brockley mustn’t just be let out on bail; he must be cleared. I have a duty towards him and to Dale here. I intend to seek the truth for myself, independently. I hope you will not object.’
‘I rather thought you would say that,’ said Cecil, ‘but tread carefully. Leave some things to us. We shall send an official letter to Anthony Cobbold, to tell him that his erstwhile tenant is dead. He’ll want to find another, anyway. I’ll explain the circumstances – where Jarvis was found and the fact that he was carrying a cipher letter. I shall also have Master Cobbold questioned. If he knows anything to the point, we shall discover it and you’ll be informed. Don’t complicate things by approaching Master Cobbold yourself.’
I asked if I could see the cipher letter and Cecil sent one of the clerks for it. It consisted of a jumble of letters and was not, therefore, the type of code I knew about. I had no idea at all how to tackle it. Cecil’s own men were more likely to succeed and one of these days, Roland Wyse, who had quite a reputation as a codebreaker, would presumably get back from Norfolk, and might solve it quite easily.
I would do best, I thought, to leave that task too for the experts, and contented myself with saying: ‘Decoding that letter might answer all our enquiries. If the code is broken, will you let me know what it says?’
‘Certainly,’ said Cecil. ‘Well, I should think the tide has turned by now, so you can start a journey downstream. I suggest that you and your companions stay the night at my house and set off for home tomorrow morning. We’ll see you to the landing stage. Francis?’
‘I regret to say,’ said Walsingham, getting to his feet, ‘that I can’t come to the landing stage. My apologies, Mistress Stannard. Farewell.’ He then plunged once more through the door to the privy.
‘Oh, dear!’ I said.
‘He’s always worse when he’s upset,’ Cecil told us as he guided us through the labyrinth of Richmond Palace. ‘And he’s upset now. Just when he needs Roland Wyse’s gift for decoding, Roland Wyse isn’t here, and yet he was glad enough to give that young man leave to go to Norfolk. Wyse is extremely able but he irritates his colleagues by his thrusting ways.’
‘You mean,’ I said, ‘that if Francis Walsingham can find another codebreaker as gifted as Wyse, then Wyse will be dismissed?’
‘Possibly.’
Well, the internal politics of the Secretary of State’s department were not my concern. I had other things to deal with, which concerned me more.
SEVEN
The Elusive Beginning
But where on earth, I said to myself as, with Mellot and Dale, I boarded the barge and left Richmond Palace behind, am I to begin? Dale is trusting me to help Brockley; I want with all my heart to help him, for his sake and mine – as well as for her. But what if I can’t? The whole mystery was like a ball of wool that has been wound so tightly that you can’t find the end, which means that you can’t use the wool.
Following Cecil’s suggestion, we spent the night in London and left for Hawkswood in the morning. Meanwhile, Cecil and Walsingham presumably despatched messengers to Sir Edward Heron and Anthony Cobbold. Once home, I spent three days worrying at the problem of where to begin seeking the truth. Then Sir Edward Heron called on me again.
He came accompanied by a clerk. Their arrival was greeted by high-pitched barks from the new young dog Sandy and a deep baying from Hero, our half-mastiff bitch, by which I knew that whoever had ridden in was not well known to her. Hector, when he was alive, had bayed at everyone but Hero didn’t give tongue beyond a welcoming wuff when people arrived who were familiar.
With Dale in attendance, I received them in the hall and offered the customary refreshments, which Heron declined on behalf of them both, though he seated himself and asked that his clerk should sit at the table and be provided with writing materials. I sent for these. The clerk, who had brought a box in with him, set it on the table, opened it and removed some sheets of parchment.
/> ‘I am here on business, Mrs Stannard.’ Heron’s chilly eyes bored into me. ‘I have to say that it isn’t business that pleases me, but a recommendation signed by both Lord Burghley and Francis Walsingham cannot be ignored.’
Cecil had been right. Heron had interpreted their letter as an order.
‘I understand,’ said Heron, ‘that you are willing to put up bail for the man Roger Brockley while I continue my enquiries into the death of Mrs Jane Cobbold. My own personal belief is that in Brockley, I have the right man, but when orders come from such an exalted source, I can do nothing but comply.’
‘I am willing to guarantee the bail,’ I said. ‘What are the terms?’
Heron shifted his feet uneasily. ‘I wish that I could discuss these matters with a man. This is not a matter for women.’ His frosty glance swept over Dale as well as me and appeared to search the room, as though hoping that something masculine might be found in a shadowy corner.
‘But it’s I, a woman, who will pay if Roger Brockley runs away,’ I pointed out. ‘I have no husband to take the responsibility for me. I am sorry, Sir Edward, but you will have to discuss the matter with me.’
‘Nothing has been the same in this land since King Henry’s son died and the throne passed to his daughters!’ said Heron irritably. ‘Women should not be in positions of power. I am aware, madam, that Mrs Cobbold disliked you and that you suffered from her tongue, but though I deplore the way she spread scandal about you, I can understand why she did not approve of you. A good deal of your history is known to me and, believe me, it isn’t the kind of past I would want for any lady in my family.’
‘The scandal that Jane Cobbold spread,’ I said mildly, ‘didn’t concern the services I have rendered to Her Majesty. It was entirely to do with my small son, a different matter altogether.’
‘Having children is a womanly enough thing to do,’ conceded Heron, staring at me down his beak-like nose. ‘But it’s customary to do so within the bounds of marriage. However, I am not here to discuss that but to arrange the release of the man Brockley. He snapped his fingers at the clerk, who handed him one of the parchments. ‘Here is the document you are required to sign. The terms are clearly set out.’
The terms were outrageous. If Brockley did lose his nerve and flee from England, I would certainly have to sell Withysham. Heron enquired whether – and how – I could raise the money and on being told that Withysham would provide it, informed me that until the matter of Brockley’s guilt or innocence was resolved, Withysham would be regarded as the property of the state. He added that he had expected something of the sort and turned to the clerk, who at once spread out a clean sheet of parchment, dipped the quill I had provided into the inkpot and proceeded to put this in writing, to Heron’s dictation.
I asked Dale, who could read and write very competently, to witness my signatures, and she breathed in with an audible hiss when she read the sum I was to guarantee.
‘Hush, Dale,’ I said. ‘We have to sign.’ We did so. ‘When can we expect Brockley’s return?’ I asked as I handed the documents back.
‘Within a few days.’
‘I shall send a man off to Lewes this very day, with a horse and fresh clothing for him as soon as he is let out. I’ll send Simon, our second groom. He’s a steady young man.’
Sir Edward nodded. ‘You really do take care of your servants, it seems. I will not criticize you for that.’
‘Mistress Stannard is the best mistress any servant ever worked for!’ Dale could contain herself no longer.
Heron bowed towards her. ‘I must admire such loyalty.’ He stood up. ‘I must take my leave. I am to have the Cobbold Hall gardeners questioned again. It seems possible that the man Jarvis, who I understand has been found dead, may have somehow made them lie to protect him. I doubt it, but I will of course do my duty as ordered.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
When he had gone, I turned to Dale. ‘You’ll have Brockley back soon.’
‘For how long, ma’am?’ Dale’s eyes were still full of worry. ‘Unless that man finds someone else to accuse, he won’t leave my Roger free for long, I know he won’t. He’ll look for someone else, because he’s been told to, but what if he doesn’t find anyone? Or doesn’t try that hard? I’m trusting you, ma’am. You’re clever at such things. Please, find out the truth, and save Roger!’
‘I want to try, Dale. But where I’m to begin …’
Dale had a trick, sometimes, of getting to the heart of things. ‘Wouldn’t it be best, ma’am, to start by going into everything that happened at Cobbold Hall that day? Couldn’t you talk to the people who were there? To Master Cobbold?’
‘I’ve been advised not to approach him. You heard Cecil say so. Besides, I’ve already asked him if he saw or noticed anything helpful but he hadn’t. He’s clear of suspicion himself because he and Heron were indoors, together, at the time when Jane died. Cecil and Walsingham mean to have him questioned on the subject of Jack Jarvis, in case he knows anything to the point. You heard Lord Burghley say that, as well. I don’t think I can go to Anthony myself.’
‘Well, what about seeing Mistress Ferris, ma’am? She often visits Cobbold Hall; he’ll have talked to her, as like as not, maybe more … more freely than he’d talk to you. He might have said something to her – perhaps something that he didn’t think was important – but it might be just the little detail we need. I should think those two must have gone over everything again and again – trying to make sense of it all, to understand why such an awful thing should happen to them. You’re friendly with her and you haven’t seen her since … well, since it happened, have you?’
‘No, and I wonder if she’ll want to see me now!’
‘You could call casually, to tell her how Sandy’s getting on here.’
That made me laugh, for the first time since Brockley had been snatched away from us. The young dog Sandy was already becoming a character. The grooms usually ate in the kitchen at midday but if it was warm they sometimes took their meal outside to the sunny courtyard where there were a couple of benches. Simon, on one occasion, had put an ale tankard down by his feet while he finished a pie, and then glanced down to find Sandy with his nose in the tankard. Sandy had been very sleepy all that afternoon.
‘I could do that,’ I agreed. ‘I could tell her about Sandy’s taste for ale – though perhaps I won’t mention how first of all, Hero tried to eat him! Thank goodness she’s tolerating him now. And I could tell Mistress Ferris how he got into the house and tore my nice fur slippers to pieces. It might amuse her.’
‘I felt shy about calling on you, in the circumstances,’ I said to Christina as she led me and Sybil into the parlour at White Towers. ‘Dale preferred not to come with us. With Brockley in prison, she’s afraid that people will be unfriendly to her. But I did want to see you. There are things I must tell you … Oh, Christina!’
I had delayed for another three days before coming to White Towers, because like Dale, I doubted my reception. I needed time to summon up enough nerve. I had also dispensed with the usual groom to look after our horses once Sybil and I got there, in case we were turned away at the gate. There was no need to embarrass the servants.
We had been allowed in, but now I had lost my way completely in mid-speech and could only look helplessly at my friend. She was dressed in black and, beneath her pockmarks, her face was pale. She had lost her mother in a terrible fashion and I felt that I had no right to be there, least of all to ask questions of her. Then, moved by the sheer sadness of the mourning gown and the unhappiness in her face, I took a chance and put my arms round her. I feared that she might push me away, but she returned the embrace before gently detaching herself.
‘It’s all right, Ursula. Truly. I know that Brockley has been seized, but my father doesn’t believe it could have been him and I can’t believe it, either. It wouldn’t be like Brockley. Oh, do sit down, both of you.’
We accepted the invitation. The day was cold and wet and we
were glad of the velvet cushions on the settles, and the fire in the hearth. ‘It makes no sense,’ Christina said, picking up a poker and stirring the fire with energy. ‘I know that my mother …’
She paused at that point, obviously finding it an effort to get the next words out, but after a moment, continued valiantly: ‘I know my mother did sometimes, well, gossip about you, not kindly. But my father told her to stop and she did. He talks to me a great deal these days. In fact, he’s closer to me than he is to my sister Alison, though she was always the good girl who did as she was told. Isn’t it odd? But it’s been a blessing for Thomas and me. The old feud between the Ferrises and the Cobbolds might never have existed! But look, if your Brockley was getting into fights over things that were said about you, they were said by other people, not my mother. Perhaps she started the talk, but she’d stopped, long before … she was killed. And Brockley is just not the sort of man to injure a lady. Everyone who knows him at all knows that!’
‘That makes it easier for me,’ I said. ‘Easier, I mean, to tell you that arrangements have been made to release him on bail. We expect him home at Hawkswood soon. At least for the time being, while more enquiries are made. I hope they bear fruit. If they don’t …’
A gusty wind made rain rattle against the windows and I suddenly shivered. Christina saw it. ‘Oh, Ursula! And you, Mistress Jester! You’ve been riding in the rain and I haven’t sent for wine or offered you anything hot to eat. One moment.’ She was out of the room in a trice, and back again in another trice. Christina’s movements were always swift and graceful. After a short time with her, one ceased to notice her pockmarks.
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