The First Horseman: Number 1 in Series (Thomas Treviot)

by D. K. Wilson

  ‘Nothing that subtle. More truth lies at a knife’s point or the business end of a quarterstaff than you’ll find in a court of law.’

  ‘They came with armed retainers?’

  ‘Oh not they! Gentlemen of the court don’t dirty their own hands with score-settling. They hired an expert – a man called Doggett. Fortunately, those of our number who were involved in Seagrave’s… removal heard that Doggett was on their —’

  ‘Doggett!’ I exclaimed. ‘Lizzie mentioned his name. Who is he?’

  ‘John Doggett is a useful friend and… well, you wouldn’t want to discover what he’s like as an enemy. How best to describe him?’ Ned paused and sipped his wine thoughtfully. ‘He comes of good family; his forbears were vintners. Their business still exists in East Cheap. John is a man of some style and education but he turned his back on a tradesman’s life. Too humdrum for him, perhaps. Or it may be that he simply stumbled upon easier ways to make money than in importing wine. Whatever the reason, he has set himself up as a princeling among the outcast and base community. You may not realise it but there is a hierarchy in the criminal world as fixed and immovable as the one that holds together the society of honest men. To take but one example, all highway robbers and travelling beggars ply their trade by courtesy of the “upright men” who ordain who may operate in each locality. Now, if the upright man is a noble of the open road, Doggett is king or emperor over an even wider domain. The Howards and the Brandons are effectively the rulers of East Anglia and the Percies and the Nevilles control the northern counties. In the same way Doggett treats Southwark and its hinterland as his realm. He has a band of rakehell servitors, known, inevitably, as “Doggett’s Dogs”. They police the Stews and the gambling houses. They decide which beggars and thieves may operate. They sort out disputes. And for all these services they collect their dues.’

  ‘They rob from the robbers.’

  ‘Aye, and kill the killers. Criminals are more afraid of the Dogs than they are of any magistrate.’

  ‘I don’t like what I’m hearing about this Doggett fellow.’

  ‘Among the human leys of Southwark he provides something that passes for law and order but he is certainly someone to be avoided by honest men.’

  ‘But if the Seagraves have set him on my trail…’

  ‘I think they are more interested in the men who actually killed their family member. They know you are innocent of that crime. As long as you keep out of Doggett’s way…’

  ‘I cannot do that,’ I said. ‘I must seek this fellow out and talk with him.’

  Ned’s eyes opened wide and he almost dropped his glass. ‘I trust you are jesting,’ he gasped.

  ‘I fear not.’

  I told him about the inconsistencies surrounding Robert’s death, the inconclusive evidence given to the coroner, my visit to Hemmings and my conversation with Lizzie. ‘It was she who – very reluctantly – advised me to make contact with Doggett,’ I concluded. ‘She suggested you might provide an introduction. But now you tell me that he is working for the Seagraves, as their agent of vengeance.’

  Ned set down his empty glass on the hearth, covered his face with his hands and shook his head. ‘Oh, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. What a labyrinth you have wandered into.’

  ‘Exactly, and as in a labyrinth there is a point at which return to the beginning is impossible, so I must now go on.’

  ‘Pray God you do not lose your way.’ He sighed. ‘When we came to Southwark, Jed and I, we were shocked by what we discovered. We seemed to have fallen into a melting pot where all the seven great sins were stirred together. It is not the place I would wish to introduce an honest gentleman like yourself.’

  ‘Yet you have survived,’ I urged.

  ‘Oh, aye. We have been accepted because those who hold sway there think we have talents to offer. I have taught Jed something of my medical skills and, in a place like Southwark, we lack not for patients. But those who venture there for their own private reasons are like to find themselves covered in leeches – and not for the sake of their health.’

  ‘Are you saying you won’t introduce me to Doggett?’

  He shook his head and sighed again. ‘I know not what to do for the best. My instinct tells me to advise you to meddle no further.’

  ‘But —’

  He held up a hand. ‘I know – you feel you cannot disentangle yourself. You may be right. But how to proceed…’ He stirred one of the embers with his foot.

  ‘Perhaps we can make enquiries without involving Doggett,’ I suggested.

  ‘That is what you most certainly cannot do. He will know of your presence within the hour. He does not like strangers asking questions.’

  ‘Then I must go firm-footed into the Dogs’ kennel and risk getting bitten.’

  ‘Not so hasty; this wants careful thinking.’ He stared at me long and hard, the reflected firelight giving his eyes a glow of added intensity. ‘What exactly is it that you are hoping to discover?’

  ‘Simply what Doggett knows of a professional assassin, possibly foreign, who is an expert with handguns. There cannot be many such.’

  ‘Doggett is certainly the one man who will know the answer to that question. Lizzie was right about that. But what if the murderer you seek is someone to whom he has extended his protection?’

  ‘Then, I suppose, he will tell me nothing.’

  ‘More likely he will prevent you asking questions – for ever.’

  ‘Lizzie said I should not risk my life trying to find out who killed Robert.’

  ‘You would do well to heed her. She is wise and has learned her wisdom the hard way.’ Ned paused. ‘However if we must pursue this matter – and I do say “if” – we must take a more oblique approach. Perhaps I should go to Doggett in the first instance.’

  ‘I would not want you to take risks on my behalf.’

  ‘Oh, Doggett will not harm me. I nursed his favourite doxy through a fever.’

  ‘But if he has been commissioned by the Seagraves to kill me?’

  ‘We would have to keep your name out of our enquiries – at least until we knew the lie of the land.’

  ‘Do you think that possible?’

  Ned shrugged, his rubicund features quite bereft of their usual bonhomie. ‘If Doggett felt I was deceiving him… making a fool of him…’ He drew a finger across his throat. ‘As soon as I broach the business he will have his hounds out, sniffing for information. One way or another he will have the truth ere long.’

  ‘Then we will have to trust him. Surely, even a man like Doggett would not want to shield a cowardly assassin, would he?’

  ‘If he has been paid to protect your quarry, yes. If he feels more loyalty to one of his own kind than to a stranger, yes. If he scents some financial advantage in helping you, then, just possibly, no.’

  We both fell silent. It was a long time before Ned spoke again. ‘I can see only one faint glimmer of hope in the situation.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Doggett has no love of foreigners. If the man you seek came from across the water to ply his trade in Doggett’s territory, Doggett would be most offended and might be persuaded to cooperate. But then, of course,’ he observed mournfully, ‘we don’t know that your assassin is an alien.’

  After another lengthy silence, Ned rose to take his leave. ‘Let me see what I can find out,’ he said, with his hand on the door latch.

  ‘Very well,’ I agreed, ‘but don’t be long. Our killer may already have left London.’

  ‘In which case you have nothing to worry about,’ he replied, with an encouraging smile.

  But worry I did and another night passed in mixed wakefulness and bad dreams.

  In fact my impatience was not long stretched. The following afternoon Jed appeared in my shop. His message was simple: ‘Ned wants you to come straightway. He said to bring a full purse and a discreet weapon.’

  The November weather had turned foul. We took the narrower lanes between Bread Street and East Che
ap but rain and sleet lashed us as we emerged into Grass Street, passed the impressive frontages of rich men’s houses and jogged on down Fish Street Hill. Huddled in our cloaks and hoods, we made haste for the protection of the bridge, thankful only that the rain had washed the stench of Fish Wharf out of the air. Reaching St Swithun’s House, we dismounted and hurried indoors. Ned met us in the ground-floor chamber he shared with Jed.

  ‘His Grace, Lord Doggett, has graciously consented to receive us,’ he said, with an uncharacteristic note of scorn in his voice.

  ‘Good,’ I responded. ‘When do we go?’

  ‘Directly. Doggett is planning to be away from town and has commanded our presence before he leaves. It would not be wise to keep him waiting. But first there are one or two points I must make. The first is that I have not mentioned your name; you are simply a wealthy merchant in need of some discreet service, for which you are prepared to pay handsomely.’

  ‘That’s true enough.’

  ‘There’s more: I have given my word that you are not an intelligencer for the beaks.’

  ‘Beaks?’

  ‘Magistrates. They sometimes send spies among us. ’Tis a hazardous occupation; the wretches tend not to survive more than a few days. Doggett boasts that he can smell them.’

  ‘I can satisfy him on that score.’

  ‘Third, your audience will cost you five sovereigns of the latest coinage, unclipped, paid in advance.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Finally, I am to warn you that if Doggett comes to believe that you are not being straight with him, that you are concealing anything, or that you are in any way trying to trick him, then…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘His exact words were “Tell your friend not to make any plans for tomorrow.” If these conditions are not agreeable to you, Doggett says you may leave and he will have no interest in you. If you accept his conditions, then you will be entering a binding contract and must accept whatever consequences follow.’

  ‘I am ready for that,’ I said.

  Ned walked to the door and threw it open. ‘Then let us go and may Mary and all the saints preserve us.’

  Beneath my breath I muttered a heartfelt ‘Amen.’

  Chapter 14

  Apprehension mounted as we rode down Kent Street and emerged on to open ground. The buildings, which afforded some protection from the driving rain, became sparse but it was not just exposure to the elements that knotted my stomach and set me shivering. Nor was it Dickon’s reluctant gait as he bent his head against the wind that sapped my enthusiasm for this foray. At any moment I could easily have turned back, excusing my decision by acknowledging that Lizzie and Ned were right to call my self-imposed mission ‘madness’. I had no idea what to expect from the forthcoming meeting with a man held in esteem only by those who were alienated from decent society, and fear always goes hand-in-glove with the unknown.

  The Red Lamb was slightly off the highway about three miles from the sprawl of Southwark. It stood out very clearly in the surrounding landscape. A high wall enclosed the stone house and its attendant outbuildings, which were substantial. It may once have been a manorial residence but of any village that might have owed allegiance to its owner there was no trace. Only waterlogged meadows surrounded it. If Doggett reigned over all he surveyed from here, his demesne was sparse in the extreme. Yet I could well imagine its present tenant espousing the strategic value of the unrestricted views of the country on all sides. The sign above the entrance arch looked fresh-painted but, though my judgement may have been clouded by what I knew of the place, I found it difficult to imagine any weary traveller thankfully turning in here for a night’s lodging or a much-needed meal.

  The unwelcomeness of the Red Lamb was further emphasised when Ned and I dismounted in the muddy yard. Two men lounged by a stable door and a third scurried past towards the house without a glance in our direction. We had to lead the horses in ourselves and find stalls for them. But we would have been wrong to think that our arrival had created no interest. As soon as the heavy portal was opened to us we were confronted by two men in leather jerkins. They were very visibly well-armed and blocked our entry with hands on sword hilts.

  The taller of the two nodded at Ned. ‘This your friend, Doctor?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ned replied. ‘Master Doggett is expecting us.’

  The other, a burly fellow with a thatch of rufous hair, said, ‘That’s right. We’ll take your weapons first.’

  Reluctantly I handed over my dagger. That was not enough for them. ‘Cloaks off,’ Red-head ordered.

  When we had removed our sodden capes, his companion patted and prodded us. Having satisfied himself that we carried no concealed knives, he stood back with a curt, ‘Follow me.’

  The ‘hall’, now the inn’s main room, had a scattering of tables. A dozen or so men sat drinking and playing at cards or dice. They showed no curiosity about us as we were led to a circular staircase at the far end. To my surprise, we did not climb to an upper storey, but went down to a cellar or undercroft. It was a long room, little more than a corridor, lit meagrely by two hanging lamps. The smell was foul – damp, decay and faeces. Along one side there were cells fronted by iron grilles. I tried not to look into them but at least two were occupied. Our guide made no comment. He simply turned at the end of the cellar and preceded us back to the staircase. This time we did climb to the next floor, then stepped through a doorway, crossed an empty chamber and halted before another door. The tall man knocked, opened it and ushered us in. When the door had been closed again, he stood inside with his back against it.

  The room was large, with an impressive fireplace on one wall and a south-facing oriel opposite it. The overall impression was of good taste, affluence and comfort. The large tapestries that faced us as we entered were of recent import and would have graced any nobleman’s chamber. The furniture was of good quality, and a standing cupboard beside the door had been carved in the latest Flemish style. The centre of the room was dominated by a long trestle table, above which was suspended an eight-branch brass candle beam. The flickering glow from this augmented the paltry light penetrating the window from the grey day outside. With its aid the man seated behind the table was reading a letter. At our entry he placed it carefully on a pile beside him. John Doggett was not what I had expected. Thin-faced and pale of complexion, he wore spectacles through which he now subjected us to a long, appraising gaze. But, though he had the air of a clerk in Chancery rather than that of a feared and ruthless criminal, there was no mistaking the authority he exuded. His voice was sharp; his words clipped. I sensed that every one was calculated and none wasted.

  ‘Good day again, Ned. This, I take it, is Master Treviot.’

  My surprise must have been obvious, for our host continued, displaying no emotion. ‘Of course I know your name. It was really rather foolish of you, Ned, to try to conceal it.’ He indicated two chairs opposite him and we seated ourselves. ‘Like you, Master Treviot, I am a successful merchant. Tell me, do you choose your clients carefully?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I replied.

  ‘As do I. Before I embark on a business relationship I make a point of discovering all I can about my proposed associates. This is vital when one is dealing in valuable commodities. I’m sure you would agree.’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘You handle precious metals and gems – costly, indeed. But my trade is in something quite priceless: information.’ He sat back in his chair. He seemed rather pleased with his allegory and developed it further. ‘Information is more difficult to mine than gold – but infinitely worth the effort. You have seen my guest accommodation below. The inhabitants will tell me what I want to know – one way or another – and I already have customers for the information they will impart.’

  ‘’Tis information I have come in search of,’ I said.

  ‘Of course, and you have not, I hope, come empty-handed.’

  ‘No.’ I counted out on to the table five gold coins.

/>   The crisp image of the enthroned king glinted in the candlelight. Doggett’s eyes gleamed and he allowed himself a slight smile. ‘And for this offering you want me to tell you who killed Master Robert Packington.’

  It was a statement, not a question, but this time I was careful not to show any surprise. I simply nodded. ‘If you know,’ I said.

  He sat back, hands forming a steeple beneath his clean-shaven chin. ‘Well now, just for the sake of friendly debate, let us say that I do know. The question then arises what use I should make of this information.’

  ‘If you want more money…’

  Doggett shook his head. ‘I’m sure Doctor Ned here will agree that money is not everything. Information is valuable but it can also be dangerous, and danger is to be avoided whenever possible. Don’t you agree?’