“We have.”
“What prisoners are in the cells?”
“Just three. An Irish noble, Lord O’Donnell, and the lords . . .”
Master Drew waved his hand impatiently.
“Has anyone come this way since you have been here, from midnight, you say?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the corridor behind.
Both men shook their heads.
Master Drew indicated that the Lord Chancellor and Serjeant should return with him to the Star Chamber.
“If the person who made these footprints did not exit by that route,” offered Lord Ellesmore once they were back by the body, “then there is only one other entrance.”
Master Drew frowned.
“But the Serjeant was at that door.”
The Lord Chancellor shook his head.
“I mean there is a special door that leads directly to the royal apartments.”
“You did not tell me of this,” Master Drew swung round in annoyance to the Serjeant.
The man gestured with raised shoulders and outspread arms.
“Even I do not have a key to that door leading to the royal bedchambers,” he protested.
“Show me where this door is,” instructed Master Drew, irritably.
It was Lord Ellesmore who led the way across the chamber, behind the dais on which the seats reserved for the King and his leading courtiers were placed. He swung back another tapestry behind them and then let out a gasp.
The door stood open and there was a key still in the lock.
Master Drew looked thoughtful. His keen eyes caught a dark stain on the handle and he bent forward, touching it with his fingertip. The blood was not quite dried.
“Was this door checked by you, Master Serjeant?”
The man shook his head quickly.
“I have said, once I observed the body and recognized who it was, I went straightway to Lord Ellesmore. I made no investigation.”
“Yet you heard footsteps in the room? Did it not occur to you that the culprit had escaped and if it wasn’t through the guardroom and cells then it must have been through this door?”
“To the royal apartments?” demanded the Serjeant in astonishment.
Master Drew did not answer but turned to Lord Ellesmore.
“And when you returned here with the Serjeant, my lord, you did not demand any inspection of this door?”
The Lord Chancellor shook his head uncomfortably.
“I resolved that the matter must be placed in competent hands immediately. That is why I sent for you.”
Master Drew let out a sigh.
“Then I suggest we proceed through this door for the stains of blood show us the way.”
Master Drew went first with the Serjeant bearing his lantern close behind. Beyond the door was a narrow passage ending in a long flight of stairs that went straight up between stone walls. Now and then the Constable would halt to examine a dark stain which merely confirmed that someone with blood on his or her hands or clothes had passed this way. There was a small landing at the top of the first flight but no doors leading off and then another flight of stairs led up to the dark oak door. Another key was needed and again Master Drew saw that it was still in the lock of the door.
He swung it open slowly.
Beyond was a tapestry that disguised the door from unknowing passers-by in the passageway beyond. This red yew panelled passage was hung with portraits and lit by occasional lanterns. It was opulent in its decorations and furnishings.
Behind him, Lord Ellesmore leant close to Master Drew.
“These are the royal apartments,” he whispered.
The red wood made it difficult to discern bloodstains and the Constable was momentarily at a loss as to how to proceed.
It was at that moment a woman came from one of the chambers along the corridor, carrying a china bowl of water and a towel. She was tall, with golden hair and strikingly handsome. She saw them and halted in confusion.
“What are you doing here, my lord?” she demanded of the Lord Chancellor, recovering from her surprise. She obviously recognized him at once.
Lord Ellesmore contrived to give a courtly bow in the confined space of the corridor.
“A grim task brings us hither, my lady. We . . .”
Master Drew stepped forward.
“We wish to know how you obtained the bloodstain on your sleeve, lady, and . . .” He peered closely into the bowl. “Why you carry water so intermixed with blood in that receptacle?”
The woman flushed with indignation
“How now, sir! I know you not.” Her chin came up defiantly. “Who are you to dare question me?”
Lord Ellesmore coughed in embarrassment.
“Master Drew, the Constable, is acting under my instruction, lady. Master Drew, this is the Lady Ivowen, lady in waiting to the Queen’s Majesty.”
There was a silence and then Master Drew said: “We await an answer, lady.”
“You are impertinent, sir,” snapped the woman.
“As you have heard, I act for my Lord Ellesmore.”
Beside him the Lord Chancellor nodded unhappily.
“We would not trouble you, lady, were it not of great import.”
Lady Ivowen sniffed.
“If you have to know . . . I cut myself on the arm and was tending to the wound.”
“I see.” Master Drew smiled. “I am acquainted with such wounds. Perhaps you’ll be good enough to show me that I may advise you . . .”
“Really, sir. You are impudent!”
Behind her, a door opened and a tall young man stood there in his shirt, the white sleeves of which were stained with blood. He was tall and had the same features and burnished hair as the woman but without the determined chin. His eyes were red and cheeks tearstained. His lower lip trembled. Master Drew had the impression of an oversized petulant child whose treasured possessions had just been confiscated for misbehaviour.
“It is no good, sister,” the young man said in a resigned but tremulous voice. “They have tracked me down and I must face their questions.”
The woman turned to him in agitation.
“No, no, Cedric. You are in no condition to . . .”
The Lord Chancellor moved forward, frowning, and his voice suddenly angry and accusing.
“Lord Deenish! We have come from the Star Chamber. Do you admit responsibility . . . ?”
“Of course, he does not!” snapped Lady Ivowen. “He is innocent of any wrong doing. How dare you . . . ?”
“Madam, I dare because I am Chancellor. Your brother’s liaison . . .” he chose the word carefully, “with Prince Henry is the scandal of London.”
Master Hardy Drew raised a hand for silence. He was thinking rapidly. Certainly, Lord Ellesmore was right. Lord Deenish was the talk of certain quarters of the city as being the favourite companion to the Prince of Wales. And the talk was, as Lord Ellesmore pointed out in unsubtle fashion, that they were more than just companions. Deenish was about twenty-one, three years older than Prince Henry, and rumour had it that he had enticed the young prince into the paths of vice and evil.
“It would be better to repair to Lord Deenish’s chamber than discuss this matter in the discomfort of this passage,” the Constable said firmly. “Serjeant, do you stand guard here by the door while we retire within.”
Everyone seemed mesmerized by his quiet command of the situation and Lord Deenish backed before them into the room, which was an anteroom to his bedchamber. A fire blazed in the hearth and there were chairs and a table nearby. Master Drew stood back and motioned Deenish’s sister, Lady Ivowen to enter, still bearing her bowl of water and towel. These she then replaced on the table. Lord Ellesmore followed and closed the door behind him.
“Now, my lord, my lady, what means this?” the Lord Chancellor demanded, pointing to Deenish’s bloodstained clothing. “You cannot deny that you were in the chamber below with His Royal Highness.”
As Lady Ivowen began to reply, still with a be
lligerent expression on her features, Master Drew held up his hand again.
“With your indulgence, my lord,” he said to Ellesmore, “I would like to conduct this in my own way. First, Lady Ivowen, you are not wounded and were not washing the blood from any such cut or abrasion on your person. I would like you to tell us the truth. Tell us what you were about before we turn to the matter of what your brother was doing.”
There was a silence. Her mouth remained in a thin slit, her jaw pugnacious.
“You know whose body lies in the Star Chamber?” Master Drew pressed on firmly. “This is not merely a matter of murder but it might be construed as an act of High Treason.”
Brother and sister exchanged a startled glance.
“We are innocent of any act,” Lady Ivowen replied. Her voice less combatant than before. “I was awoken by my brother coming into my chamber in a state of great agitation and with blood upon his hands and clothes . . .”
“Your chamber is where?”
“Next to this.”
“Continue. I presume you were asleep?”
“I was. His coming awoke me. It took much persuasion on my part and Malmsey wine to calm his agitation. He said that he had gone looking for Prince Henry and found his body below . . .”
“In the Star Chamber?”
She nodded quickly. Master Drew noticed that she suppressed a shudder.
“What else did he tell you?”
“He was incoherent for much of the time. My brother is . . . was . . . very close to Henry. They were bosom companions. I brought him here to his own chamber and, believing the blood was from some wound, I took water and towel and washed the blood away. My brother then confessed that the blood was from Prince Henry’s death wound. By that time, my brother was calm and told me what exactly he had discovered. He . . .”
Master Drew made a slight cutting motion with his hand.
“As your brother is here with us there is no need for you to tell us this. Your brother may give his account first hand. Now, did you at any time go down into the Star Chamber to verify this story?”
She shook her head.
“Have you attempted to raise the alarm?”
“I have only just calmed my brother and not discussed what we should do,” she responded. “I was about to get rid of the bowl of water when you appeared.”
Lord Ellesmore grimaced in contempt.
“This looks bad, young Deenish,” he said in a brittle tone. “You have affronted God by your conduct here and now you have gone too far, for I have no doubt that it was you who persuaded the young prince to dabble in the black arts. The case against you is obvious.”
The young man blinked rapidly.
“I did not do this. You must believe me.”
Master Drew contained his annoyance at the Lord Chancellor’s intervention.
“We have yet to hear your story, my lord. Let us start with what you might know of the diabolical materials that are laid out in the chamber below.”
The young man was pale.
“It was Hal’s humour,” he muttered.
“Prince Henry’s humour?” snapped Master Drew. “You must explain more explicitly.”
“You know that His Majesty wrote a work on Daemonologie, a work that is highly regarded among the clerics?”
Master Drew gave a sign that he was acquainted with the book.
“Hal – His Highness, that is – was lately out of favour with his father, the King’s Majesty, and in filial rebellion against him. I mean,” the young man added hastily, “the rebellion that a young man has against his father.”
The Constable smiled with humour.
“The challenge of the young bull to the old bull. It happens to all, kings or commoners.”
“Hal – that is, His Highness – knowing rightly that his father deemed himself a great expert on witchcraft and that his book has been produced in authority at the various trials of witches and warlocks throughout the realm, thought he would amuse himself by holding a Black Mass in his father’s very court – in the Star Chamber. He enlisted my support . . .”
The young man hesitated and licked his lips.
“And did you give it?” demanded Lord Ellesmore harshly.
“I never stirred to help him. I swear so by the holy rood. As much as I loved the prince, I am yet a Christian, and not even to form an amusement or play act would I participate in such a theatre. His Highness was petulant and called me many names, saying that with or without me he was determined to perform the acts ascribed to in his father’s books at midnight on the eve of All Hallow’s Day in the very spot where his father, the King’s Majesty, sat in judgment on all his kingdom.”
Master Drew nodded slowly.
“And this came to pass?”
“It is as you have seen. Right until the final moment I refused to accompany His Highness.”
“Until the final moment? Did you then change your mind?”
“Not I. Prince Henry left me before midnight and went down by the stairs his father and other members of the royal family use to enter the Star Chamber. He cajoled and pleaded for me to go with him right until the end, using persuasive tones one moment and harsh and jeering taunts another. After he had gone I sat for a long while here in my room. I heard, eventually, the cry of the night watch proclaiming the midnight hour. I waited a while, waited for what seemed eternity, for His Highness to return. When he had not, I summoned my courage and went down the stairs.”
He paused and gave a sob and it was some moments before he could control himself.
“You entered the chamber?” pressed Master Drew.
“That I did,” affirmed Lord Deenish. “I saw His Highness’s body immediately. I went over and tried to lift him . . .”
“Hence the bloodstains on your clothes?” queried Lord Ellesmore.
“He was dead, cold and dead.”
“There was no sign of anyone in the chamber?”
“I saw none. As soon as I saw that Hal’s throat was cut, a cold fear seized me. I heard someone at the doors and I ran back here to wake my sister.”
Master Drew stood quietly for a while.
“That is exactly as my brother told me earlier,” Lady Ivowen said, feeling a need to break the silence. “My brother is incapable of any violence, least of all to his . . . his best friend.”
“It looks bad, nevertheless,” replied Lord Ellesmore. “What say you, Constable?”
Master Drew smiled softly.
“Are those the shoes you have been wearing all evening, my lord?” he asked abruptly, glancing down.
Lord Deenish started in surprise and glanced down at his shoes.
“I suppose so, why?”
But Master Drew had turned to Lady Ivowen.
“And you, my lady?”
Lord Deenish sister was gazing at him as if he had lost his senses.
“I wore these shoes before I retired for the night and put them on after my brother disturbed me.”
Master Drew glanced at Lord Ellesmore.
“A word alone with you, my Lord Chancellor. Is there an adjacent chamber to which we may retire?”
“We will use Lord Deenish’s bedchamber, with his permission. Remember, the Serjeant is without,” he added to Deenish and his sister.
The young man gestured helplessly.
Lord Ellesmore picked up a candle from the table and led the way into the darkened room. Master Drew closed the door behind him.
“I am now sure of the identity of the culprit, my lord,” he whispered, placing a figure to his lips to indicate that Ellesmore should respond in a low voice.
“Deenish?” demanded Lord Ellesmore, in satisfaction. “I agree. God help me, but Henry was a weak and indolent young man and his actions were an affront to God and our good Protestant religion. I am afraid it may be said that his death will be of much benefit to the future of our kingdom. Young Prince Charles will be next in line now and being yet a boy we can, perhaps, raise him with a sense of responsibility and
protect him from evil influences such as Deenish.”
Master Drew did not reply at once. Then he said: “I know that there were many in the kingdom who were unhappy when Her Majesty died and her councillors made the decision to invite James the Sixth of Scotland to ascend the throne of England also.”
The Lord Chancellor looked momentarily surprised.
“Seven – no, eight – years have passed since then. We have had to make our peace with His Majesty.”
“Nevertheless, there were those who were unhappy.”
Lord Ellesmore shrugged.
“Some pointed out that Her Majesty never made a will and that when she died the nation was ill advised to invite a Scot to govern them. It is no secret that I was initially among that number. Many greeted His Majesty as a foreigner, one who speaks in a strange accent and who brought forth all his favourites out of the court of Scotland and placed them over those of England. His Majesty inevitably made enemies; Catesby’s plot some years ago nearly deprived him of his life; Melville has been in the Tower these six years, and plots and rebellions occur throughout the kingdom.”
Master Drew pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“The Golden Age of England is thought to have passed with Her Majesty,” he observed. “Is not her speech to the House of Commons, barely eighteen months before her passing now called her ‘Golden Speech’? The one in which she spoke of her love of her people and her people’s love of her.”
Ellesmore grimaced.
“I know it well. I was there when she made it.”
“There are many, such as you, my lord, who loyally served and loved Elizabeth well. Many supported a continuance of the Tudor dynasty by inviting a distant cousin to take to the throne.”
Ellesmore’s face hardened.
“I know not what you are suggesting, Master Constable. His Majesty of Scotland now has as much Tudor blood in his veins as anyone. Is he not descended from the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry, the Seventh of his name to sit upon the throne of England?”
“All I am saying is this, plots and rebellions have been many since His Majesty of Scotland came to London. The fact that the heir to the throne of England is . . . was an indolent young boy who preferred the company of young men to women was scandalizing many. I believe that this latest indulgence – the performance of a blasphemy in the very chamber where Her Late Majesty, Elizabeth, held court – was, when it was discovered, seen as a final sacrilege and insult to England. The person could not restrain their outrage and slaughtered him.”
The Mammoth Book of Jacobean Whodunnits Page 16