There are times when I surprise myself. This was one. I was nearer than most, for the simple reason that when I tried to return to the large group of witnesses, no one gave way to let me past, so I was left before them and nearer the body than others.
One of the matrons stepped forward and rubbed at the mark with a fresh cloth. The line remained, quite stark against her pale flesh now it was clean. When she wore her gown, it was not visible because the low collar was enough to conceal it, but now she was naked, there was an injury apparent. The two women leaned down, and even the Coroner peered closer.
‘It is a very slender mark,’ one of the ladies said.
‘A rope or ligature?’ the Coroner asked.
‘I think not. A thong, perhaps? Or a thin chain,’ the woman said. ‘A necklace.’
‘Did it kill her?’ the Coroner said.
‘Nay. I think it was a simple necklace chain, and her murderer pulled it from her to steal it.’
‘I see,’ the Coroner said. He glanced at his clerk. ‘Note that. She wore a necklace, and it was stolen. It must have been valuable, I presume?’
Lady Elizabeth spoke up again at this. ‘I never saw her with anything more than a fine silver necklace chain. But it broke.’ She looked to her ladies-in-waiting, and both concurred, but there was something in Lady Elizabeth’s expression that caught my attention. Anger? Confusion? Sly deceit? Controlled glee? I couldn’t make it out.
Sir Henry held out his hands in blank incomprehension. ‘I never noticed. Why would I notice a woman’s finery?’
‘Her husband – where is he?’ the Coroner demanded.
One voice broke through the hubbub. It was the sallow-faced man with the boy who had declared himself her husband. The same fellow who had risked a broken finger. ‘It was a chain, Sir Richard. A plain, unadorned chain of silver, but she was proud of it because it was an excellent example of the smith’s art. It was very fine, which is why it broke. After that she had another, silver again, with a crucifix.’
His finger appeared to have recovered from where the younger fellow had bent it. He left his place and took a pace forward.
‘Your name?’
‘I am Sir Walter Throcklehampton, Lady Margery’s widower.’
I looked at him with interest. He had a grim, grumpy look about him, which should not have been surprising, but I had heard him the night before in the buttery. I know quite a few men who could be upset to lose their wives, but in his case it did not ring true.
The Coroner glanced sideways at his clerk’s notes. ‘Was it strong enough to hurt her? Could it have been used to strangle her?’
‘No. Neither was expensive.’
‘This second with a crucifix. Where is it now?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps it was taken? But it was not of any great value.’
The Coroner frowned and nodded. ‘Then it’s of little importance. If it was too unimportant to be worth stealing, and did not kill her, it is of no relevance.’
There was more discussion of the murder and questioning of the three maids who had been with me to corroborate my story, then two servants were interrogated because they had discovered the body of One-Eye slumped next to that of Lady Margery. Finally, there was a short summing up, and the jury declared that they had no comments to add.
The Coroner stood then. ‘I find that this woman, Lady Margery Throcklehampton, was murdered. She died because of a deliberate act by a man or men who cut her throat with a fine-bladed knife or dagger. The slash opened the veins and her blood was drained. I estimate that the blade was some seven to eight inches long, and must have been worth at least six shillings.’
‘Six shillings!’ I heard a man gasp. It would have made the knife one of the most expensive money could buy.
The jury quickly set to talking among themselves. One man, reluctantly accepting the position of foreman, put up his hand submissively.
‘What?’
‘Sir, the blade could have been only a cheap dagger. We think it would be worth only a quarter of that.’
‘I set deodand at six shillings for the dagger,’ the Coroner concluded, glaring about the room as if expecting dissent, ‘and because the necklace was probably used to restrain the woman for a period, I will add another five shillings to the deodand.’
Nobody met his gaze, but from the angry muttering about the hall, it was plain enough that the people were not happy to hear that the Coroner had valued the weapon so highly, nor that he had added the cost of the necklace. It was the people here who would be paying the fine.
The Coroner stood, glaring about him, and motioned to his clerk. They both walked from the chamber, haughtily ignoring all the others about them as they passed out through the main doors.
I shook my head. The Coroner would be well advised to leave the palace urgently after testing the people here so harshly. I turned and would have followed the two from the room, but then I was restrained.
A hand grabbed my shoulder, and One-Eye rasped, ‘That’s the bastard! Take hold of his arm; don’t let him flee again!’
Instantly, my other arm was also grabbed, and there was a rattle of old armour as a pair of castle guards took me by the elbows. They turned me around. I found myself confronted by One-Eye.
‘Thought you’d escaped, did ye?’ he spat. ‘I haven’t forgotten the bruise on my pate you gave me, you bastard!’
It was then that I saw his fist hurtling towards my face.
Now, I have been the recipient of a number of blows in my time. You could say that I have a connoisseur’s interest in them. I can recall with a wince the buffet I received when I was laid out in a tavern’s yard, and the occasion when I was struck by a bawd’s pimp, as well as the time I was attacked in the street by a bailiff with a grudge, but none was quite as unpleasant as this. I could tell what was about to happen; I could see his fist approaching, but everything seemed to happen so slowly. He moved with the speed of a tadpole swimming through mud; I could see the vicious glee in his eye, and I knew it would hurt when that hand met my face, but with both arms gripped I was incapable of moving from his blow’s path. Instead, I stood with the appalled confusion of a nun watching her first orgy, until there was a truly sickening crunch, and his fist smashed into my nose. I reeled, and then my legs went as soggy as a minute-old foal’s, my knees knocked together, and I collapsed.
The last thing I remember was seeing Blount, his fist gripping a lead-filled leather cosh, clobbering the one-eyed man over the skull, and feeling genuine satisfaction as the fellow’s good eye rolled up for the second time in as many days. But then the floor’s paving seemed to open up and swallow me into a black pit that went on for ever and ever, and I knew no more.
The last time I woke from a blow like that, I was optimistic that life would improve. This time, I was unpleasantly certain that the same was too much to wish for. I could feel flags and rushes under my back, and I could hear the murmur of a lot of voices, and I was happy to remain there with my eyes closed and hope that people would leave me alone. With luck, they might decide to spend their time emulating Master Blount and attack the one-eyed bastard a little more. He deserved a good kicking, I reckoned.
If the Coroner and others were convinced that I had been severely injured, perhaps they would give me a decent bed and bring a physician. It was something to aspire to, certainly. For now, just in case of further harm coming to me, I kept my eyes shut and listened.
There were raised voices. It was two of my merry maids from the hall, Kitty and Meg. These two, God bless them both, were loudly decrying One-Eye and declaring that I could not have been the murderer. It was enough to make me breathe more easily. I had just decided that I could open my eyes with safety when I felt a hand on my brow.
It was soft, smooth, cool and delightful. I decided to remain there a little longer. Then I was pinched very hard on the flesh just above my elbow, and I stifled a curse and jerked upright, almost striking Lady Anne in the face. She stared down at me with her serious brown eyes, and if s
he had not just started to snigger, I’m a Yorkshireman.
I rubbed my upper arm, chewing over a few choice comments as I did so, but the sight of the chamber brought me to my senses.
One-Eye was sitting on a stool, his back to a pillar, holding a damp cloth to the side of his head. From the bucket at his side, I think he had been sick a few times already, and the sight gave a flutter of delight to my heart. What was less attractive was the sight of Blount a couple of yards away. He had a gash over his eye that was bleeding steadily. He stared at me grimly. My two maids were volubly declaring my innocence, while a sergeant held up his hands to stem the flow of invective and try to bring some order to the noise. When I looked about, I saw that Lady Elizabeth’s seat was empty. She must have left the chamber as soon as the fighting broke out. She was the fortunate one. I wished I’d been quicker.
My head was swimming. You know how, when you glance over a fire in summertime, and the view at the other side moves and dances like a picture seen in roiling oil? That was how my vision was. I felt as sick as a youth after too much brandy, and I was unpleasantly aware that as soon as I was to lie down, the room would begin to swirl and dance about me. To counter this, I opened my eyes wide, trying to force the scene to steady itself.
‘Are you well, Master Blackjack?’ Lady Anne asked, and I’m still convinced that there was more than a touch of amusement in her tone.
‘I think … I’m going to be sick,’ I said.
Suddenly, I was alone. The crowds about me parted like the seas before the Israelites fleeing Egypt on hearing I might puke. I sniffed, and my bruised nose made me wince. It was enough to make me forget to throw up at that moment. Sparks and flares flashed before my eyes, and I thought I must collapse again. It lasted only a few moments while my head tried to explode, but then it was over. I had one brief moment of relative calm before the nausea returned, and I felt I might have to go to One-Eye’s bucket. The idea of moving was even less appealing than the idea of what lay inside the bucket already. Those two thoughts were enough to persuade me to swallow down the bile and remain where I was, unmoving.
‘How are you?’ Lady Anne said again.
It was a good question. I did not think that any bones were broken, other than my nose, but then I glanced down and I was silent with horror. My new jack was covered in my blood. It would take an age to have that cleaned. My best London jack, the finest I had owned – ruined!
I would have risen to go and punch him, but the first movement made my nose feel as though it was about to be torn from its moorings. ‘He’s broken my nose!’ I said. ‘Will someone fetch me an ale? And put that cocksure little one-eyed snake in gaol for attacking me in the middle of a royal inquest!’
‘That will not be necessary,’ I heard the sergeant say. ‘Although the Coroner may decide to make an example of the dull-witted pizzle and put him in the stocks for a day or two.’
That was a much more pleasant thought. Once he was safely in the stocks, I could lob a rock at him and see how he enjoyed being the target of my attentions.
A hand took me by the neck and helped me to a sitting position. Another friendly person thrust a large pot of ale into my hand, and I sank a good portion gratefully. It made me feel a little better almost immediately.
‘What happened to him?’ I said, indicating Blount.
‘He knocked down the gaoler, so two men knocked him down,’ Lady Anne said. ‘The sergeant has ordered him held until my father decides what to do with him.’
‘But your father cannot hold him. He’s my master. He has urgent business with Princess Elizabeth.’
‘Lady Elizabeth will have to make do with your aid while my father considers Master Blount’s case.’
‘All he did was defend me, his servant,’ I protested.
The sergeant glanced in my direction. It was the same man who had arrived with the Coroner. ‘He viciously attacked a man in the hall here, right before Lady Elizabeth. Using weapons before a lady like her means he will likely be punished. He should have left things to my men, rather than taking the law into his own hands.’
‘I’d likely be still worse injured if he had! Why don’t you arrest that little cock over there?’ I said, pointing at One-Eye.
‘Do you want to join him? Then hold your tongue! Otherwise, you will quickly learn how accommodating the cells are here!’
After that, the room was soon emptied, my master being led away by the sergeant and two of his men. One-Eye was prodded and poked by the steward, who used his staff of office with some pleasure, I thought, until the git shuffled to his feet and lurched from the door, carrying his bucket still. I was glad to hear a sudden retching just after he left the hall, and hoped he was bringing his guts up again.
The steward seemed to think about using the same tactics on me, but a look from Lady Anne was enough to end that idea. When Lady Anne demanded a refill of my pot, he sent a servant to find the bottler, and soon I was sitting on a stool and nursing a fresh ale. Lady Anne was at my side, and I was glad of her presence. My head was pounding unpleasantly once more.
Soon afterwards, Lady Anne was called away, and I was left alone. I finished my pot of ale, and as I set it beside me, I heard a noise. Looking up, I saw that the squire was peering around the door.
To my astonishment, the squire crossed to me, and now he caught me by the arm. ‘Come with me!’ he hissed, and I found myself being propelled from the room. Outside, I was hauled across the yard to a snug little chamber where the squire had a table and chair. It was a small room set into the palace’s wall, and I could feel the cold as soon as I was thrust inside. He slammed the door behind him, standing with his back to it.
‘What are you doing? What’s this about?’ I demanded as he wiped at his brow.
He glared at me. It was the sort of look that would wither a rose in a second. ‘Sit down!’
I retreated until I encountered a stool. My head was still spinning, although the urge to vomit had passed. I sat.
‘Well?’ I said.
He gave me a very old-fashioned look. ‘I am not an experienced man, but I can see when you are making eyes at a woman like Lady Anne, and when she is looking on you favourably, too.’
‘Me?’ I stared back at him with some astonishment. The idea that she might have felt anything for me other than annoyance had not crossed my mind.
He curled his lip. ‘I’m not blind. She is a powerful woman, and you should beware if you trifle with her.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ I snapped. My nose was so sore, and it felt like an inflated pig’s bladder – it could have been used by Woodstock for their annual football match with the neighbouring villages.
‘So you say! You should be wary.’
‘I know. She’s a violent woman.’
He picked up a rake, and his fists twisted at it as though he was seeking to break the shaft, or perhaps he was merely dreaming about twisting my throat. ‘She is a lady, and her father is a good man.’
‘What of it?’ I said. ‘There is nothing between us. Nothing whatever.’
‘How does she know you? Have you tried to force yourself on her?’
‘Her?’ A memory of her face after using One-Eye’s head as a drum sprang into my mind. The idea of forcing myself on her was so remote that for a second or two I could only mouth wordlessly.
‘Well?’
‘The woman petrifies me!’
‘In bed or out?’ he sneered.
‘I wouldn’t dare find out!’
His brows lowered and he shot a look at me. ‘In truth? Then why does she look on you with such favour?’
‘Favour?’
He glowered in a distinctly menacing way. I did not want to be beaten again. Instead, I decided that Lady Anne’s secret was not mine to keep … so I could share it. I gabbled quickly, ‘She rescued me from that gaoler with one eye, but that’s all. That’s why he dislikes me so much. He was knocked down by her when he was trying to hold me.’
‘He has cause
to dislike you even more now. And that man Blount – he’s your master?’
‘Yes. I saw him strike One-Eye as I fell. But then he was bested. How did that happen?’ I asked.
He grinned. ‘When the one-eyed shite knocked you down, Blount thought it was better to protect you, but the Coroner’s men were not keen to see a brawl. They clubbed him and bore him to the ground. I had to pull one of them from your master, and stopped another from beating you as you lay.’
I supposed I should be grateful, and muttered my thanks.
‘I have a duty to protect the weak against injustice,’ he said. He seemed to come to a decision, and walked from the door, resting his backside on the table, eyeing me with apparent distaste. ‘And the weak-minded.’
I didn’t like that, but he stood between me and the door. ‘Is that why Sir Walter poked you in the breast?’
A frown chased the smile away. ‘That fool? He was demanding to know whether I had lain with his wife.’
‘Did you?’
‘I had no interest in her.’
‘So, tell me,’ I said.
‘Tell you what?’
‘What is your interest in this? Lady Anne is not a lady you aspire to, is she?’
He wiped a hand over his face and gazed at me. Suddenly, all his belligerence left him.
‘Not her, no,’ he said.
There are some fellows who can put on a show of bravado, some who can don a cloak of deceit with enormous ease; others find deception and mendacity do not come easily to them. For those, attempting to dissemble is always a challenge, and it is easy to tell when they lie.
The squire’s head dropped a little. He looked at me from the corner of his eye with a melancholy air, like a hound whose disobedience has been noticed.
‘Not Lady Anne, no. I could not aspire to her,’ he said.
‘I see.’
He shot me a glance. ‘What do you see?’
‘I have heard rumours …’
‘Well?’
‘That you were carrying on an affair with Lady Margery.’
His mouth gaped. ‘Me?’
‘You weren’t?’
‘I liked her well enough, but an affair? With her? No!’
A Murder too Soon Page 8