"If I had, my lady," glowered the sheriff, "I would not be able to indulge such information. I've no intention of discussing such knowledge with the public, as I am sure you can understand, madam."
"I understand no such thing," Katherine answered, still smiling. "I am conducting my own investigation. I can hardly share my knowledge with you, sir, if you do not share with me."
He looked a little startled. "But you are not authorised to investigate crimes, my lady," he mumbled. "It is not proper."
Her smile became conspiratorial. "But between us, Master Sheriff, and since I have plenty of time, I may be able to help."
He relented. "My lady, it is true that Master James Willis was not a popular man. He was energetic concerning the disparagement of others, and laid information against many, including his lordship of Chilham. It therefore stands to reason that he was murdered by the earl himself or on his orders."
"So you are saying the victim of this crime was hated by many. He therefore could have been killed by many."
"Although not with access to his lordship's stables."
"A good point, sir. And did you ask at the stables concerning who in the days before the body was found, had visited the house and stabled his horse?"
"I did, my lady. No one, since his lordship was not at home."
It was Fortune who trotted around to the stable block that afternoon, and took an interest in where the body had been hung. She was followed by a young groom of diminutive size who pointed up and said, "Would be a mighty tall man to reach up there, I reckon."
"With a ladder, or simply standing on a box, it could be done," Fortune said, proving the argument with a heavy crate sitting amongst the straw. "I'm not tall. But standing tip toe on this box, I could hang my cape."
"But not a fat body," objected the boy.
"Well, I have no body to test," said Fortune, "and I'm not going to pick you up, so forget it. But most men would find it easy enough. Did you see this corpse? Was it large?"
"Nah," said the boy. "A bit messy and proper nekkid. Had red knobbled knees, like he'd been on 'em a fair bit. But scrawny too and little enuff muscle, and no head."
"And the rope?"
"Ah," said the boy with glee, "'tis the crux, it is. For that there rope were one of ours. Done used fer leading out the horses, and other stuff like tying up the hay. So the murderer didn't come proper organised, you might say, and just grabbed wot he found."
"And no one has ever found the - well, the - head?"
"Hah," said the boy. "The sheriff's men done looked and found naught."
"Nor the man's clothes?" The boy shook his head.
And so Fortune took her information to the Lady Katherine on her return. "We need to organise a search," she said. "For surely if the wretched man was murdered here, his clothes, and the - er - rest of him, must be somewhere on the premises."
"Exactly," agreed Katherine. "For if those things are not here, this James Willis, much hated by all, was murdered elsewhere and brought here dead, just to incriminate his lordship."
"Or," Fortune sighed, "the murderer took those things away with him again. Which would have been quite stupid, I think, and most dangerous for him. No one walks through Cripplegate with a head under their arm."
"Absurd." Katherine sipped her wine as they sat in her bedchamber. "The body was clearly brought here already dead."
Which was when there was a single knock on the door with Clovis whispering from outside, "I got news, m'lady. Can I come in?"
Fortune opened the door with her finger to her lips. "We have discovered a little news," she whispered, "but not much, I'm afraid."
"I done got bigger news," said Clovis with gleeful smiles. "They done found the head."
Both women stared at him. "James Willis?"
"Yeh," grinned Clovis. "Wrapped in a pair of old hose, wiv the codpiece on its nose."
"Where?" insisted Katherine.
"Floating in the Thames, then stuck in the mud," Clovis declared. "There was shoes too."
"So," said Fortune with emphasis, "we now know the poor man was not murdered on these premises."
Chapter Ten
Charles was stretched out on his bed when the iron lock creaked, and the door opened. He opened his eyes, looking around without apparent interest. But when the Lady Katherine entered, he heaved himself up and wandered out into the main chamber.
Seeing him, Katherine was instantly troubled, and discovered a deep flood of sympathy. The man she remembered as once arrogant now stood a little bent, his elegant clothes creased. In spite of his valet's presence in his quarters, it seemed he had not changed his clothes.
"You look tired, my lord," Katherine said.
"The tedium of repetition can be exhausting," Charles replied, smiling faintly. "Questions are asked. I deny knowledge. The same question is asked. I give the same answer. They glower, and ask yet again."
Katherine whispered, "You haven't been - tortured, sir?"
"I have been threatened with it, but no," Charles told her. "In a matter of heresy, perhaps they would do as they threaten. They call this treason, but it is simple murder at this stage, and torture is kept for those crimes which more personally disturb the queen."
Katherine sat on the small stool indicated, and Charles leaned against the open sill of the tiny window. She asked, "Have you seen her majesty again?"
"No. She is ill," he replied, "and keeps to her bed. I believe she arises only when something agitates her sufficiently, but otherwise she is advised by her doctor to rest. There are those who believe she is dying, and therefore keep their options open, ready for the sudden inheritance of the Princess Elizabeth, who is neither Catholic, nor obsessive."
Katherine looked around, only whispering. "Should you speak such words in here, my lord?"
'Every guard is aware of the same possibility," Charles laughed. "Risk has become fashionable it seems."
"Have you heard," Katherine asked, looking down meekly at her lap, "the latest news? That parts of the man found dead have been fished out of the river. Some clothes. And the - head."
Neither dungeon nor cell, the three small chambers within the Tower were comfortable enough, with a brazier to lessen the chill, but there was thick brown mould growing in a long line down one plastered wall, and both wind and rain gusted through the narrow window slit. Paying for his own food, and retaining the service of his valet, Charles was well fed and called a free man. But he was not free to leave. "I have heard," he told her. "And have argued that this proves the crime was committed a day previously when I was still on the road. It is easily proved that I was at Tower green early on the morning. But it is true, as they assure me, that I could have ordered this murder and had the wretched creature executed elsewhere. Why I should have incriminated myself by ordering the body brought to my stables, I cannot imagine. But it is also true that this James Willis was the one who originally claimed that my mother was involved in the Dudley plot, and myself as well. I could then have had cause to hate him. I cannot prove that I had no idea of the accuser's identity."
"You were at - I saw you of course. My mother's execution." Her voice faded. "Others saw you too."
"That does not preclude my having ordered someone else to commit the crime for me." Charles sighed, leaning back. He remembered the brief warmth of her body against him, and the yielding sensation of her breasts. He watched her now, for it was once more pouring outside, and even wearing a cloak, her gown had become soaked, and now her breasts were outlined as if in sculpture, and the nipples, pointed by the cold, pushed outwards. He smiled, but at himself. The nights were cold, there was no certain life expectancy for a man held in the Tower and suspected of murder, and he was not sure he even cared. But in recent days the only reminder of pleasure, desire, and life worth the living, had been those two nights with the woman Fortune, when he had been delighted to give her pleasure and receive it in turn. He shook his head and turned away, then said, "But it is remarkably kind of you to take an i
nterest, my lady, since the matter is both sordid and unnatural, and yet you are helping the one person you had decided not to like."
"I changed my mind." Katherine stood, ready to leave. "I told you, I want to help."
After she had left, Charles wandered back to the comparative comfort of the bed, clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes again. He knew perfectly well that the girl involved herself in his affairs for the adventure, that she was bored and knew nobody. But it was a situation that he appreciated. Had he been free to do so, he would have made his appreciation more obvious. Instead, he rolled over and fell asleep.
Katherine hurried back outside and met with Fortune and Clovis who were both waiting for her. They stood beneath the archway beyond the drawbridge, partially sheltered from the rain. It was not a long walk back to the Cripplegate house but they were drenched before they arrived. Clovis disappeared, and Katherine rushed to undress in her bedchamber, throwing her clothes to Fortune, who bundled them off to dry.
It was the next morning before they discovered what Clovis had been up to. "Dunno if you's noticed," He grinned, "but I gotta sort o' rough manner o' talking. Cockney, they calls it. It gets right useful wiv some folks."
"We noticed nothing of the sort," Fortune assured him.
"I went around to where that James Willis lived wiv his brovver," Clovis explained. "The Chancellor might be an archbishop, but them assistants ain't priests nor nuffing. James Willis were a right nasty sod. I talked wiv his servants, wot didn't like the wretch one bit."
"No doubt with a long list of enemies."
"A very long list," said Clovis. "He were the one wot told tales on all and sundry, and were the cause o' burnings across the land, and beheadings too. It got him promotion, and I reckon it got him killed."
"But," sighed Fortune, "must we investigate every other possible assassin? If there's such a long list, I'm afraid his lordship may face execution before we've finished."
"T'ain't that bad," Clovis told her. "I got three names. And one is the Chancellor, wot didn't like his little assistant, not one bit."
It was two days later when they received permission to meet with the Chancellor. Both women dressed with considerable care and appeared as chaste as fashion permitted, and set off in a litter, its awning keeping the rain from their headdresses. Clovis rode one of his lordship's sumpters, the litter drawn behind.
Meanwhile Charles was summoned to another closeted appointment of endless questions, and did not dress with any care whatsoever. His valet, Henry Dayford, hovered with a disapproving frown. "My lord, I can remove those creases with the iron on the trivet, should you wish to make a more dignified appearance."
"When I leave this place," Charles told him, "in whatever manner I leave, these clothes will be destroyed. I never wish to see them again. In the meantime, I do not choose to show either dignity, nor the slightest respect for those who throw questions I consider absurd." He brushed brazier soot from one sleeve, and turned to Henry with a small smile. "And as you know, Harry, I didn't ask for your presence here simply to dress me and look after my rags. You have another errand."
Henry bowed. "I do indeed, my lord, and will leave immediately."
Shown to the small chamber within the Langthorn Tower, Charles did not wait for any invitation to sit, and pulled the stool to the table, behind which sat his bulging inquisitor. "Well, sir?" Charles said, "I assume you have not yet found another more diverting occupation? So let us begin once again with the same tedious questions."
Lord Hever, his distance from the table opposite Charles being decided by the width and depth of his stomach, leaned back and scowled. "My lord, other investigations have resolved some interesting aspects of the case. The place where the unfortunate James Willis lost his life, has now been determined. A great deal has therefore been discovered. There is no further point in claiming ignorance nor innocence, my lord."
"There has been no point for some considerable time," Charles yawned, "since you do not listen, nor use the common sense of logic to follow my arguments. I will, however, continue to claim the innocence which is entirely the truth."
"The house overlooking the river," Lord Hever answered loudly between belches, "has been discovered, the blood, the axe and the knife all found on the premises. It is believed that the murder took place in that room. It seems that the head and clothes were discarded from the topmost window directly into the water below, the remaining bulk of the body then conveyed by cart to your premises."
"By whom, sir? And why?"
"By the killer, obviously, my lord. Either yourself, or whomever you paid."
"And why?"
"To prove to your lordship that the job was done."
Charles yawned again. "And in addition, obviously with the wish to incriminate myself," he said, speaking slowly as though to a child. "Since I made no attempt to hide the body and instead called in the sheriff to see the corpse and investigate the crime."
"The owner of the riverside apartment," insisted Lord Hever, clasping large palmed hands, plump fingered, across his belly, "has a clear memory of the man who rented the rooms for those two relevant days. He has identified you, my lord."
"You showed him my portrait, no doubt? How remarkable, since the only one that exists is at my estate in Kent."
"He described you, my lord. Well spoken with a grand air, tall, slim but well muscled, a square jaw with dark hair and eyes."
Charles laughed. "The description would not fit you, sir, but it would fit a thousand others. Bring the fellow here to face me and declare my guilt or innocence."
Both fists suddenly thumping on the little table, with a collapse of the small cup sitting there, Lord Hever exclaimed, "My lord, have done with this foolery, and declare your guilt. It can now be proved. You only delay your release from here. Admit your guilt, my lord."
"Bring the owner of that apartment here," Charles said softly, "and finish with this nonsense. I am entirely innocent and I believe you know it. Who orders you to persist with these foolish questions? Her majesty, perhaps? Or the Lord Chancellor? But I assure you, not only am I completely innocent, but the suspicion of my guilt is frankly both absurd and easily disproved, should anyone attempt a more intelligent investigation."
With a sniff, Lord Hever altered direction. "It seems you have little respect for her gracious majesty, my lord. Clearly you are a treacherous supporter of the Princess Elizabeth. Admit, sir, that this whole murder has been fabricated to hide your guilt in a different conspiracy, and a plot to place the princess on the throne in the queen's stead."
"Another absurd accusation? I live in Kent, sir, and have no dealings with royalty or the court. This is easily proved." Charles sighed. "Are you so desperate to find me guilty, to pretend such stupidity as conspiracy upon conspiracy?"
"The perpetrator of this heinous crime must be brought to justice, my lord. Master James Willis was a man of some importance. He would not willingly have visited a villainous nobody, and the invitation for him to come to the house on the Thames must therefore have been sent by someone from the nobility."
Charles closed his eyes, repeating the words he had said a hundred times over recent days. "I have never met James Willis. I had no desire to kill the man who brought my mother to her death, nor knew his identity. There is too much misery and death across the land and I had no desire to add more. I know nothing of the crime except discovering the final result. I immediately called the sheriff. I am quite innocent and cannot admit to anything else."
Quite suddenly, with a furious belch, Lord Hever threw up his hands, pushed away the table so that a pile of papers and his cup of spilled ale clattered to the floor, flushed bright red, and roared, "Enough, enough, my lord. I find this whole affair monotonous, and have had enough of it. You are free to go and I shall be answerable to her majesty. Get your servant to organise your belongings, I shall order your horse saddled, and be gone, sir. I trust we shall not meet here again."
He had not expected it.
Charles smiled. "How charming," he said. "I thank you, sir, and trust you find the true culprit at some time in the not too distant future." And he stood at once, and left the room.
Outside the sun was shining and there was no rain in the air. He smiled, strode back to his enforced lodgings, and found Henry waiting for him. "We are free, my lord?"
"Yes, Harry. Pack up, not that there's much to pack. I intend leaving without my braes, if necessary."
"You're wearing them, my lord."
Charles arrived home within the hour, and discovered the Lady Katherine and her personal maid both out. He therefore went immediately to his bedchamber, collapsed on the bed, and continued to smile.
Chapter Eleven
The household slept. Delighted at the return of their lord, they slept soundly, candles snuffed and doors locked. Muggle Street led from Wood Street, winding down from the London wall and the Cripplegate. Shadows lay across the buildings, and the grounds were cramped, but access from the back was both hidden and possible for anyone both energetic and pliable.
The household continued to sleep.
Charles dreamed of a woman in his arms. Although she climbed into his bed with her little round and friendly face all smiles, strangely as the caresses became more fervent, her face changed. The dream transformed Fortune into the Lady Katherine, wide eyed and blushing. Charles removed her clothes slowly, one by one, and whispered his delight into the warmth of her cheek.
The Lady Katherine dreamed of Charles, although she had no idea why. He was naked to the waist, and his shoulders glistened in the candlelight. She imagined those muscled arms reaching out to her, his smile shadowed but the glint in his eyes was like onyx crystals, and he whispered, "I am waiting, my beloved. Come here to me."
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