Why would a man behave like that? I could not comprehend such behaviour. I know that some men of money and wealth will occasionally act in such ways, but it was hard to believe. I would try to consider him and learn what kind of man he was. If he was the kind of man to commit murder, I wanted to know for my own protection.
There were calls. A loud bellow told everyone that those who had any information should go immediately and attend the Coroner’s inquest. I finished my ale and made my way to the hall.
The hall was filled to bursting. The entire household was there to attend the inquest.
There were a lot of grand people. From the left, I saw a number of maids and servants, who really had no place there, but I suppose the wenches might as well witness the inquest since there would be little work achieved that day. Sal was there, and Meg too. Meg was a chubby, sweet, small bawd, with honey-gold hair and a mouth that was full and prone to smiling. She looked the sort who would enjoy a horizontal grapple, I thought. It was hardly surprising Sir Walter would have tried his luck with her.
In front of them was the jury, a select group of men and boys, while a short distance from them sat a woman on a chair of her own, with two women at her side and two men behind her. Guards stood only a pace or two away, and there was a watchfulness about them that snagged my interest. I realized that this must be the Lady Elizabeth, the woman who had kindled the fires of rebellion, according to some.
She was a trim little thing, with a pale complexion and fine, good features. Not like her sister, who even then had become dumpy. No, Lady Elizabeth had the sort of looks that would make you cross a street to have a closer inspection. You’ll have seen pictures of her, I have little doubt, but they don’t do her justice. The fact is, she impressed me most favourably. She was slim, high-breasted, with hair that gleamed, her face regular and even. Even here, with so many men who were determined to keep her prisoner, she was serene. In fact, she appeared relaxed almost to the point of being languid. Certainly, her attitude could have been described as intensely bored with proceedings. Her face was turned upwards towards the ceiling, and I could easily imagine that she was counting the stones under the limewash.
My eyes were drawn away from her, towards the shape on the ground. Someone had brought Lady Margery Throcklehampton in on a trestle and left her on the floor under a sheet like discarded trash. She made a sad sight there, like a wilted rose. I never liked the sight of death, but to see a woman in her prime, like Lady Margery, murdered before her time, was very sad.
Others were still filing into the room. I saw Blount, standing almost behind a pillar at the back of the room, watching and listening, no doubt, while keeping his face concealed. Then others marched in, a child of eight or nine with them. This latest was snivelling and boo-hooing like a banker who sees his profits fail – he was making so loud a racket it almost broke my pate, and I wanted to tan his hide for him. This boy was holding on to the hand of the sallow-faced man who had been talking to One-Eye in the buttery. He glanced at the wrapped body briefly now, but soon looked up again and caught my eye. He looked away with a curl of his lip as though I didn’t merit his attention.
More serious-faced men came in. One in particular piqued my interest: he was dressed in expensive clothes, overdoing the velvet, I thought. It was a little too flamboyant for London, and I sneered to see how he had mingled the fashions of the last three or four years. He had no idea. Looking at him, I got the strong impression that he was a yokel who had heard of the way people dressed at court, but who had not been to see it for many years. Then he looked up and I realized it was Bedingfield. He must have dressed in his best for the inquest; he really was an embarrassment. As he passed Lady Elizabeth, he bowed, but the lady scorned to recognize his respects, and then he stood with a scowl like a youth rejected by his leman.
And then I saw her again. It was the woman who had knocked down One-Eye, saving me from his knife: Lady Anne Bedingfield, daughter of the custodian of this place. She saw me, too, but she barely acknowledged me, instead raising an eyebrow and looking at me in the way she would have glanced at a turd on the rushes. I felt cowed. Worse, I felt challenged: humiliated and bested in that one glance.
I looked away, back towards Blount, and as I did so, I saw the giant once again. He stood a yard or two behind Blount, and was watching my master and me with great interest. Catching my eye, his mouth drew into a broad grin, and I was relieved by an interruption. The Friar, as I was coming to think of him, had a most unsettling grin.
But interruption there came.
With a sudden flurry of sound, the grim-faced Coroner appeared in the doorway. He stood there a moment, his eyes ranging over the jury, the crowds, and then the Lady Elizabeth. She refused to acknowledge him either, beyond a vague tilt of the head as if nodding.
The room fell silent, and some people began to shuffle their feet uncomfortably, everyone aware of the tension between these two, but then the Coroner stepped forward and into the chamber, crossing the floor to a large table on the dais. He peered down at the body as he passed it. Clerks and guards followed in his wake like cygnets trailing after a swan, their feet padding quietly across the rushes.
‘Everyone here?’ the Coroner demanded of Bedingfield.
‘Yes, Sir Richard.’
The Coroner stood before Bedingfield’s chair on the dais, and then nodded to the people in the room, cast a look at the jury, and finally allowed his eyes to rest on Princess Elizabeth.
‘We shall begin, then.’
The Coroner peered down. ‘This is the body?’
On hearing the confirmation, the Coroner began to instruct his clerk, opening his inquest with a loud bellow to all in the room to be silent, glaring at any who continued to mutter.
‘We are here today to hold inquest into the death of this woman here,’ he said, indicating the shrouded figure. He pointed at two servants. ‘You two! Bare her face.’
The men obeyed. One was the groom who had been conspicuously contemptuous of me while he was so busily occupied leaning on his fork. He stepped forward with considerably less enthusiasm than the other, and the two pulled the wrapping from Lady Margery’s face.
‘Who can recognize this woman?’
‘I can,’ Sir Henry said, and so did Sallow-Features, who quietly stated that he was her husband.
She was still clothed, and the Coroner commanded that she be stripped naked. The men started to unbutton Lady Margery’s gown, but when the groom reached for the kirtle, a pair of matrons bustled forward at Lady Elizabeth’s peremptory command. Before the groom could attempt to continue, he was pushed away. The two ladies tenderly removed her clothing until she was entirely naked.
She was a well-built woman, I thought. Past her prime, perhaps, and with the marks of stretching at her belly where she had once carried a child, but it was her throat that everyone was staring at. The blood had pumped thickly, and she was stained all over her breast with blood.
At a signal from the Coroner, a bucket of water was brought and the two women washed away the worst of it.
‘Jury, I want you to notice that the woman has not been molested. This was no rape. See? No bruising or bleeding about her groin. There is but one wound: the great slash about her throat.’
The wailing from the child grew louder.
‘Will someone remove that squalling brat?’ the Coroner demanded testily. The boy was taken by my friend Meg, and the sound of his despair gradually faded.
I could see the wound clearly. Whoever did this was not planning on making a mistake. The knife had entered below Lady Margery’s left ear and swept across to the right. With a vicious wound like that, she must have been dead before she hit the flags. This was clearly a deadly injury. No others had been inflicted; there was no need.
I was standing on tiptoe to peer as the Coroner climbed to his feet and grunted, bending to pick up the discarded dress. He held up the cloth to show that there were no stabs in the material, and no holes in the body other than that
of her throat. Blood had stained the fabric. ‘See here? The dress confirms the injury. There are no tears or cuts in the fabric. This one wound was enough to kill her. Did anyone see her or hear anything about the time she died? Was there a struggle, screaming, shouting or any other disturbance?’
There was a hush. No man there wanted to admit to being in the vicinity of the murder.
After a moment’s silence, Sir Henry Bedingfield stepped forward. With his beard and bushy eyebrows, he reminded me of a small, wire-haired dog backed into a corner: anxious, irascible, and apt to snap.
‘She was supposed to be with the Princess, but for some reason she was not in the chamber,’ he growled, turning a ferocious stare upon the Princess.
‘I asked who did see her, not who should have seen her,’ the Coroner said testily.
‘She was not at her duties,’ Bedingfield said grumpily.
‘Are you not responsible for all the staff of the palace? Yet you do not know where she was?’
Bedingfield’s mouth worked like a man chewing his inner lip. ‘I cannot have my eyes everywhere at all hours,’ he said.
‘So you are of no help to this inquest.’
Bedingfield retreated, shaking his head. ‘This is too much for my Norfolk understanding.’
‘Who found the body?’ the Coroner said.
I found myself looking about the chamber, before realizing that people were staring at me. I reluctantly ducked my head, holding up my hand. ‘I think it was me, Sir.’
‘Think? Think? Consider again before you assert that. Was it you or not?’
‘I did find the body, yes. If someone else found her before me, he didn’t declare himself First Finder.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Jack Blackjack, Sir Richard,’ I said with as much humility as I could manage.
‘Is that your real name?’ he said, peering doubtfully. ‘Step forward so the jury can see you, then! Explain how you found this body. And speak up!’
I did as I was bid, moving into the space near the body and telling how I’d been at the end of the hall – I pointed – with three maids from the household, when we heard a strange noise, and how I went through to investigate. I didn’t have any idea of murder at the time, but thought a hound had stolen a bone from a plate on a table, or some similar nefarious escapade. Instead, I took a tumble over the corpse on the floor at the side of the staircase.
‘That means nothing!’ a voice shouted. ‘He could have seen her, stabbed her, and left her there. Why did he run so sharply when I found him?’
I turned a baleful glare in the direction of that voice. It was my uncouth comrade One-Eye.
‘Who speaks there?’ the Coroner demanded.
‘Me! I am Matthew Huff, the warrener, Sir Richard.’
‘You will stand there in silence, Matthew Huff the Warrener,’ the Coroner said. ‘If you do not, you will soon be Matthew Huff the Pilloried Man. Do you understand me?’ Then, to me, ‘You, fellow, continue.’
‘I was seeing whether she was still breathing, when that man Huff ran in, made some accusation about me killing her, and called the guard.’
‘He had an accomplice there, and I was knocked down!’ Huff declared excitedly.
‘I warned you already of the stocks, I think?’ the Coroner said with poisonous politeness. He nodded to me to carry on.
When I shot a look at her, I saw that Lady Anne had blanched. There were two spots of red at her cheeks, and she stared at me rather like a child waiting for the first blow of the strap. I looked at the Coroner again. ‘Sir Richard, Huff was foolish enough to turn his head from me. I hit him and he fell. I saw no reason to wait there since he had called up the guards already, especially since he had jumped to the ridiculous conclusion that I had something to do with the lady’s murder, and I thought I could be assaulted. I left the room. I was already sure that the poor lady was dead. There was nothing to be done for her, I fear.’
‘You should not have fled the scene. Did you not realize that it could lead to you being suspected?’
‘I did. But I was more anxious that the Lady Elizabeth could be in danger,’ I said. I looked at her. ‘If her guards came running because of Huff’s foolish cries, she could be left alone. I went to ensure that she was safe. After all, there was a murderer stalking the corridors of the palace.’
‘You went to her?’ the Coroner asked and looked at her.
The Lady Elizabeth’s eyes were on me as I spoke. ‘I went to her door. I didn’t think to knock and alarm her, but stood outside the door in case of danger. Then, as things calmed, I made myself known to Sir Henry. He heard from Sal and Kitty that I was with them when the poor woman was slain.’
On Sir Henry’s corroboration, my statement was accepted and written down by the clerk, and I was dismissed. When I glanced around, Lady Anne was smiling at me, still pale, but with a little more colour in her face. Huff glared with all the ferocity a one-eyed man could manage. Behind him, I saw my master and the Bear. The Bear was grinning fit to burst, from the look of him. When I looked, I saw my Friar Tuck standing some distance behind them still, a pensive look creasing his brow.
I realized that no matter what I had said before, John Blount and his Bear thought still that I was guilty. Perhaps that was good. They would be sure to keep me in my house and paid if they considered me so dangerous and competent.
On the other hand, there was someone else in the palace who had actually committed the murder. However, although I was unhappy with the thought of some fool wandering the place with a knife, I was reassured by the thought that the killer had achieved his aim. He wouldn’t be keen to kill anyone else. One murder was easy to perform, but the more deaths he brought about, the more likely it was that someone would notice him and bring about his capture.
I was wrong to be so complacent.
While I was congratulating myself on escaping further comment, Sir Richard moved on to speak to others.
‘When did she leave the Princess?’ the Coroner asked, and stared at Lady Elizabeth. ‘She was supposed to be a lady-in-waiting; I presume she did perform some useful duty there?’
There was a significant pause, and then Lady Elizabeth lifted a hand and beckoned. One of her manservants stepped forward and bent to her. She spoke quietly to him.
He nodded and looked up. ‘My Lady says that the woman was not needed and was sent out to aid her master, Sir Henry Bedingfield.’
Bedingfield made snarling noises, looking like a chained, enraged terrier confronted with a suave cat just beyond reach. It was some moments before he could speak coherently. ‘What? Pah! Lady Margery had duties to perform, on my soul! She was supposed to be with you!’
‘I had no need of her.’
‘What you want is—’
‘You mean she was to be with me at all times?’ Lady Elizabeth said sharply. ‘You mean she was to be imposed on me, whether I wished her or no?’
‘She had duties, ma’am.’
‘I am sure she did. Perhaps those included informing you of all my private conversations, Sir Henry. But I am the daughter of a King. I have no desire to see all my confidences breached with your intelligencer.’
‘That is not the point at issue!’
‘Really? You say that I am to pay for servants I do not require or desire? You prevent me from the proper management of my estates and leave my peasants uncertain as to their future, and now you demand that I pay for a useless mouth for no purpose other than to allow you to spy on me, while refusing me the benefit of my own counsellor.’
‘You have no need of others. She was there to serve you.’
‘And I have said that I had no wish for her service. I will pay for you and your men, but I will not pay for an intimate spy.’
‘So you had her killed?’
Lady Elizabeth turned slowly, her gaze passing over all the jury and witnesses in the room before it came to rest on Bedingfield. I could feel the strength of her indomitable spirit in that look. Some say that
eyes see by sending out rays. If so, her spirit was in those two orbs. When they alighted on me for a moment, it felt as though they could ignite wood. I imagined her peering out over a forest, and wherever her eyes touched, the trees ignited as if touched by Greek fire. There was a fierce rage in her voice when she spoke. ‘You accuse me? You dare to suggest that I caused her death? For what possible reason?’
‘To stop her informing me about—’
‘You admit she was a spy sent by you to keep a close eye on me? Is that the case, Sir Henry? I am desolate to think that a gentleman could think of such an act. You would set a spy on the Queen’s own sister?’
‘I would do my duty by you and your sister!’
‘Would you set a spy to watch your own Queen? How fascinating. I shall be sure to mention that to her.’
Sir Henry was reduced to near apoplexy, his face the colour of a beetroot, making inarticulate noises deep in his beard. The Coroner gruffly cleared his throat, glancing towards the man with a raised eyebrow, but when it grew clear that Sir Henry was so angry that he was incapable of speech, the Coroner turned his attention back to the body, instructing the women to roll the corpse over and over before the witnesses.
I was still staring at the body. To my eye, there was a line about the corner of her neck, where the shoulder met the side beneath the ear, as though a man had drawn a mark in charcoal across it. It was only visible now because she had been washed so carefully. It was not obvious, but I was sure that there was a bruise’s darkening. ‘What’s that on her neck?’ I wondered and, without intending, I spoke just as the room was in silence.
There was a moment’s pause. If I had farted, the Coroner could not have glared at me with more virulence. I felt my belly curl in fear. Lady Anne stared at me with all the joy of a hawk spotting a mouse; so too did other ladies and men in the chamber. For my part, I felt like the mouse.
‘A bruise! She had something about her neck. Right there!’
A Murder too Soon Page 7