He paused a moment and then opened it and coughed hollowly before announcing: “Master Hardy Drew, the Constable of the Bankside Watch, my lord.”
Master Drew found himself ushered inside.
There was only one man in the room. He was an elderly man, with a shock of snow-white hair, still handsome and with a sharp pointed beard of which style, Master Drew observed, was favoured by the King himself. The old man was slightly stooped at the shoulders but with bright, blue eyes sparking with humour. He was bending in his chair pulling on a pair of fashionable shoes. The Constable had no difficulty recognizing the 71-year-old Thomas Egerton, Lord Ellesmore, the Lord Chancellor and Keeper of the Seal.
“Sit you down, Constable,” the Lord Chancellor said pointing to a chair as he adjusted his footwear. “Excuse me for I am having a little difficulty with these new shoes. I’d fain sign an execution warrant for my cobbler after this. Do you know who I am?”
Master Drew inclined his head and sank nervously onto the edge of the chair.
“I do, my lord.”
“How so? I might be anyone. Do you rely on the word of those who brought you hither?”
“No, my lord,” replied Master Drew, raising his chin defensively. “Two days ago, at the installation of our new Lord Mayor of London, Sir John Swinnerton, you were in attendance. I was nearby and heard Sir John and divers others greet you tenderly by name. I would not think that they be all mistaken in their greeting.”
For a moment it seemed that Lord Ellesmore was about to break into a smile but instead he nodded slowly.
“I have good reports of your sagacity, Constable. Both from my predecessor in this office, my Lord Burghley, and also Sir Thomas Bennett.”
Master Drew said nothing and so Lord Ellesmore continued.
“They spoke most highly of your capabilities, Master Drew. They told me that you have an uncanny talent in the solving of riddles. Moreover, they spoke of your discretion. May I trust your discretion, Master Drew?”
The Constable frowned thoughtfully.
“My lord, prudence is important in many of the tasks that I have undertaken and unless they be matters that are inimical to the safety of His Majesty and the Kingdom, or impinge on the liberty of my conscience, then my discretion is something that may be trusted from the lowliest subject to the King himself.”
Lord Ellesmore raised an eyebrow and then he smiled wanly.
“You have answered well, Master Drew. You are an honest man and speak forthrightly without fear or favour. Your wisdom and discretion are both needed this night. I am soon to show you something that, if ’twere known outside of these walls, might cause civil war to devastate these now united kingdoms. Do you swear what you see will go no further?”
“My caveat is as I have said, my lord,” replied Master Drew, resolutely. “I cannot foreswear to secrecy until I know what this threat may be and whether my secrecy may serve the well-being of His Majesty and the kingdom.”
“That word is good enough for me, Master Drew,” replied Lord Ellesmore after a moment’s hesitation. “Be so good as to follow me and prepare yourself for something I never dreamt I would see the like of.”
The Lord Chancellor moved to a side door and led the way down a narrow corridor. Once more, it seemed to Master Drew, that he was being led through a maze of passageways until they paused before a pair of dark oak doors. Lord Ellesmore drew a large iron key from the leather purse that hung at his waist. He inserted it in the lock and turned it. They entered into a large chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. It was the ceiling that immediately caught Master Drew’s attention. It was blue and gold and painted with a star pattern. The panelling was of dark oak and there were chairs arranged in a semi-circle around what looked like a raised wooden platform, only one foot higher than the floor but with a single chair placed on it. At one end of the room was another even higher platform, on which were seven ornate chairs, one of which had all the regalia of a royal seat. Above these hung banners and shield crests.
“Do you know where you are?” asked Lord Ellesmore as he closed the door behind them and locked it.
Master Drew shook his head. He had never been in the Palace of Whitehall before.
“This is the Court of the Star Chamber.”
The Constable suppressed a shiver that involuntarily began to catch his spine at the name. Back in medieval times the king’s royal council used the chamber but in the days of Henry VII it had become a judicial body. During the reigns of the Tudor dynasty, it had even over-ruled all the lower courts. The Star Chamber Court would order torture and imprisonment and now, under King James, its power had grown considerably, being used to suppress opposition to the royal policies, arraigning nobles who were thought too powerful. Its acts were done in secret session with no right of appeal. Here, in this terrible place, punishment was swift and severe to any falling out of favour with the Crown.
“Why am I here?” asked the Constable nervously.
Lord Ellesmore simply pointed to the far end of the room, opposite the royal seats.
It was only then that Master Drew realized this area was in a great state of turmoil. Some chairs were overturned and there seemed a table on which various items had been upset or knocked over, items like candles made of black wax, scrolls of some ancient quality, a golden hilted dagger and curious icons the like of which he had never seen before. One of these was a candleholder, with many arms, of the type that he knew came from the faith of the Jews and there was a strange pentacle star.
Master Hardy Drew took all these things in at a glance before alighting on the dominant object that lay stretched on the door.
It was the body of a young man. His throat had been cut and he had bled profusely. Blood stained everything. His eye caught sight of bloody footprints leading from the body and moving across the chamber but ending abruptly in mid-floor. For a moment or two, they held the Constable’s frowning attention. Then he pursed his lips and glanced at the Lord Chancellor.
“It seems that there is great evil afoot here, my lord. These seem to be the devil’s accountrements.” He gestured towards the objects on the table.
The tall man sighed.
“Know you what day this is, Master Drew?”
The Constable started as he realized it.
“It is now All Hallows Day.”
“And this last night was All Hallows E’en.”
“God save us,” whispered the Constable. “The night when witches and warlocks are abroad to hold their wicked revels.”
He glanced again at the partially obscured face of the body of the young man.
“Has he been identified, my lord?”
“You know him not?” queried the Lord Chancellor with meaning in his voice.
Master Drew hesitated. Then a cold feeling began to come over him. He bent down on one knee for a better examination.
“His features are passing familiar. He . . .”
He exhaled sharply, the breath hissing through his partially closed mouth.
He knew the features of Henry Fredrick Stuart, Duke of Rothesay, Lord of the Isles, Duke of Cornwall, Prince of Wales and heir to the thrones of England and Scotland and Ireland.
He came slowly to his feet. There was an oppressive silence. Lord Ellesmore was gazing keenly at him. His expression was serious.
“’Twere better if names were not uttered,” he counselled.
“Who did this thing?” replied the Constable, aghast.
Lord Ellesmore allowed himself a sardonic chuckle.
“This mystery is for you to make a resolution of, Master Constable. Not only who did it but why it was done. Not even His Majesty has been woken to be told as yet but when we do awake him at daylight, as is the custom, it would be better for all of us if we had some answers to give to the questions that he will shower upon us.”
Master Drew’s lips compressed.
“It lacks only four hours until daylight,” he muttered. Then he turned back to the scene. He bent down and picke
d up a curiously curved dagger with foreign symbols that was lying near the body. It was covered in drying blood. He peered closely at the alien engraving. “It does not need great wisdom to see that some devil’s ritual was being made here.”
“You have seen the like before?” demanded the Lord Chancellor curiously.
“Not I. But I have a passing familiarity with the work Daemonologie that the King himself wrote nearly a score of years past. In my duties as Constable, I have had to make myself familiar of this subject as many lay charges of witchcraft against others. I see many things here that are described within His Majesty’s book. These strange hieroglyphs on this dagger, for example.”
Lord Ellesmore glanced at him in grudging approval.
“It is true that His Majesty did write that treatise which denounced witchcraft and which many scholars hold in high esteem. Alas, good Constable, His Royal Highness . . .” He paused a moment and corrected himself. “The young man trod paths of impropriety consistent with his station in life. He was corrupted by some of those around him. Many at court, I included, feared for the future. Yet, withal, I find it hard to believe he dabbled in the black arts.”
“And yet ’twas witchcraft that seems to be in evidence here,” replied the Constable quietly. “Who first discovered His Royal . . . the body?” He corrected himself with a gesture that encompassed the scene.
“The Serjeant at Arms, one Ned Strong. He is a trustworthy man, long in royal service. A man of silent tongue, to be sure. He has served me well and is loyal to me. Knowing that I was residing in the palace this night, pursuing some weighty matters of state, he straightway came to inform me of his discovery, having secured this chamber from idle curiosity.”
“And where shall I find this Ned Strong?”
“He is waiting in the guard’s chamber in readiness to answer your interrogation. The Serjeant at Arms, as commander of the guard here, is allowed a special chamber for his use.”
“Then let us to him this instant and examine his story.”
Ned Strong had been in royal service for thirty years and had been privy to many sights that ordinary men could only dream of. He was stalwart, calm of spirit yet with bright brown eyes that seemed piercing and missed nothing. His auburn hair was greying but he was of a muscular, thickset build and, doubtless, he could give a good account of himself with his sword and dirk in spite of the advancing years. He was dressed in the livery of the royal guards, a leather jerkin covering his red and white undershirt with its white ruffs, red breeches, tucked into heavy leather, thigh riding boots, with wide bucket tops above which the boothose showed. He wore a sword and a dirk at his waist. A short cape hung from his shoulders on which was the royal crest.
He stood respectfully as Lord Ellesmore and Master Drew entered his small chamber in which he had been sitting, awaiting them.
With formalities of introduction over, the Constable asked:
“How came you to make your grim discovery, Master Serjeant?”
“It is my duty to proceed through the corridors of this part of the palace at the tolling of each bell, signifying the passing of the night watch.”
“Is it your habit to inspect the . . . the Star Chamber?”
The man shook his head quickly.
“The chamber is usually locked and no one is admitted except when the Court of the Star Chamber is in session.”
“Yet you have a key?”
“As Serjeant of Arms, I am given keys of all the chambers that are locked. This is done in case of emergency. I have served in this palace for thirty years. I served our good Queen Elizabeth, God grant her peaceful rest. Now I serve King James.”
Master Drew frowned slightly. Had he detected a slight change in the man’s tone at the mention of the King?
“So you must have served the late Queen for over twenty years?”
The Serjeant at Arms drew himself up proudly.”
“I had that honour, good master.”
“And on her death, you continued in service.”
“I did.”
Again was there a slight change in tone. It was a sharper note of disapproval. Master Drew decided to pass over it.
“So what made you open the door on this occasion instead of passing on and continuing your watch?”
“I was approaching down the corridor when I heard a sound as of an object falling. A soft, muffled thud of a sound. I paused and heard the noise of rapid footsteps. Then, no more.”
“And so?”
“I took the key and opened the door. The scene that greeted me in the light of the lantern I held was as I have showed his lordship earlier. A body lay on the ground and there were scenes that something diabolical had been enacted there. Once I perceived the body to be that of His Highness the . . .”
Lord Ellesmore coughed warningly.
“Once you perceived the body, you came straightway in search of me,” he cut in meaningfully.
The Serjeant at Arms blinked and then nodded quickly.
“That I did and right quickly, sir.”
“Locking the door behind you?” queried the Constable.
“Aye, sir.”
“You touched nothing? Moved nothing?”
“By the rood, I lay not a hand on anything, good Constable.” His voice was indignant.
“It is well to confirm these things, Master Strong,” pointed out the Constable in a conciliatory tone. “But there arise some questions. You say that you were alerted by the noise of a soft thud as if something heavy had fallen. Might that be consistent with the fall of a body to the floor?”
The man looked mollified.
“It would, good Constable.”
“And you then say that you heard sounds of footsteps?”
“That I did.”
“After the thud?”
“Aye, afterwards.”
“That presupposes that there was another in this very chamber at the time the body fell.”
“That was confirmed, for I also perceived footprints, bloody footprints, which led from the body.”
Master Drew nodded slowly.
“These footsteps that you heard, how long did they proceed before you did not hear them again?”
Master Ned Strong shrugged.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“A few seconds, sometime? How long a passage of time?”
The Serjeant at Arms was diffident. “I do not know.”
“I say this because I saw these prints and they led only five paces from the body, bloody prints, and then disappeared abruptly. Judging from their shape, I would say they were left by a male wearing solid wedge shape shoes with low heels, unlike the high heeled new fashion that is common today with both men and women.”
Master Strong was frowning in bewilderment.
“I do not understand, Master Constable. I only know what I heard.”
“Very well. Someone was in the chamber with the . . . the victim. You agree to this observation?”
“It seems logical to deduce as much,” replied the man.
“And you were standing at the main chamber door during this time. So what other entrances or exits to this chamber are there?”
“Apart from the main doors, I know of only one such entrance or exit and that is at the back of the chamber where prisoners are brought before it or taken below for punishment. The prints, as I recall, led in that direction. A tapestry disguises the door.”
“Then you must straightway show me.”
They returned to the Star Chamber with the Lord Chancellor, carefully locking the door behind them. The Serjeant at Arms marched clumsily across in his riding boots, passing the body and, carefully avoiding the footprints, went to a tapestry, pulling it aside. A small door of solid oak, with reinforced metal studs and hinges, stood behind it. It was locked.
“You notice that the bloody footprints have come to a halt long before reaching this door?” Master Drew pointed out.
The Lord Chancellor frowned.
“I
s that important?”
“Notice how thick the blood is on the prints right until they cease. Why would they cease? There would have been enough blood still on them to make marks, even smudges, not to cease so abruptly. It is as if the person walked to the middle of the chamber and then . . . then disappeared into thin air.”
Lord Ellesmore looked worried.
“You imply that there is some devilry here? Some evil phantom at work?”
Master Drew smiled wanly.
“That devilry was at work here is obvious. But, no; I do not ascribe the explanation of this mystery to the supernatural, if that is what you mean.”
He turned abruptly.
“Have you the key to this door?”
The Serjeant at Arms nodded and produced a key from his ring.
“This only leads to the dungeons and guardhouse, Master Constable.”
“Let us proceed,” Master Drew said.
Led by the Serjeant at Arms they went down a small corridor and came to second door that he unlocked. Beyond it was a room in which two surprised guards had been sitting at a table with a flagon of beer between them and dice on the table. They scrambled to their feet astounded at the sight of the Lord Chancellor and the Serjeant.
“How long have you men been here?” demanded Master Drew.
One of the men raised his knuckles to his forehead.
“If please you, sir, we came on watch at midnight.”
“On watch?”
“We guard these cells,” explained the other, pointing to several doors that led off the room.
“You have been here all this time?”
The Mammoth Book of Jacobean Whodunnits Page 15