A Murder too Soon

by Michael Jecks

  I could see him, dancing angrily on the stones of the alleyway, his left hand gripping his right wrist, obviously in great pain, which gave me a degree of pleasure, and I smiled as I turned and stepped forward into the blasted knife again. This time it was held by the lovely Lady Anne.

  And I learned very quickly that George might be an excellent squire, and Harvey might be a good spy, but neither had any ability when it came to reading a lady’s mind, for the look she gave me had nothing of affection in it. In truth, I had to step back urgently to stop myself being paunched on the spot.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed with real malevolence.

  Now, admittedly, I was not looking at my best. My nose was as bloated as an ancient cider-drinker’s, I suspect, and I had a series of scrapes on my cheek where One-Eye had shoved me into the wall. My chest had been smothered in so much blood that anyone could have been forgiven for thinking that my throat had been cut; added to that, my nose was blocked, my eyes rheumy from ale, and I had a headache like the worst two-day drinking hangover I’ve experienced. All of which is probably why I curled my lip, grunted and said, ‘If you’re really going to use that, just get on with it, will you?’

  To my relief, she did lower it slightly, peering at me with what Harvey might have considered sympathy, but which was more likely revulsion. Her eyes, I noticed, were red from weeping. She looked despondent. ‘Are you well?’ I asked. ‘You look as though—’

  ‘What business is it of yours?’

  ‘None!’

  She gave me a grim look, then seemed to relent. ‘My father’s very concerned. Since this woman, Lady Margery, is dead, it will reflect badly on him. I’m worried for him.’

  ‘Oh, I see. But she was his spy, wasn’t she?’

  ‘That does not matter. She was a woman who found it easy to make enemies.’

  I recalled the groom had said something similar. ‘I’ve heard few liked her.’

  ‘She was … difficult to get on with.’ She peered closer. ‘What’s happened to you?’

  ‘Our friend from the other day, whom you so usefully tapped on the head, just accused me of theft and wanted to investigate my guts, presumably to see whether I’d swallowed the thing he is looking for. Unless it’s your standard Woodstock welcome here, since you seem to want to open me up as well.’

  She reluctantly pushed the knife into her belt. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to burst through the door, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, he chased me down the alley, and this was the first door I found that was open,’ I said, slightly petulantly. I was not happy to escape one knife-wielding lunatic only to run into another.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said. She had the grace to look a little ashamed.

  ‘Why did you want to attack me?’ I said.

  ‘You suddenly lurched through the door, slammed it on to someone’s hand, then bolted it like that. What would you have thought? You could have been a murderer or cut-purse for all I knew.’

  ‘Do I look like a damned cut-purse?’

  ‘You look more like Morris dancers have been using your face for a stage,’ she grinned.

  ‘You are Lady Anne, aren’t you?’

  She looked suspicious, but then I explained I had seen her at the inquest, and she shrugged. Her shoulder moved most deliciously under her gown, I noticed. I longed to get better acquainted, as Harvey had suggested I might, but the look in her eye when she glanced at me told me that the likelihood was remote.

  ‘Doesn’t your father worry about you walking about down here on your own?’

  She tilted her head to one side. ‘You think I can’t protect myself?’

  ‘It’s clearly dangerous with all these men about the place.’

  ‘It’s not entirely safe with the Queen’s sister here, but there are as many men-at-arms here as there are to guard the Queen herself. I’m as safe here as I would be with the court in London or Oxford.’

  ‘Do you think the Princess is in danger?’ I wondered.

  ‘No.’

  I was bemused. Perhaps she didn’t understand the nature of the politics. ‘You see, if the Queen suspects her, it’s quite likely that the Princess could be taken back to the Tower at any time.’

  ‘She is safe here. My father will see to it that she is secure. At least … he will do his best.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  She gave me a cold look. ‘Only that he is a strong-willed man, and he’s very determined … but we’re from Norfolk, and we aren’t really used to this sort of thing. Oh, Father was the guard for the Queen’s mother for a while, when Henry was King, and no one dared to challenge him. But Queen Mary has already had Lady Jane Grey try to take the throne and declare Mary the usurper, and there has been a rebellion too. Who can tell what may happen here?’

  I frowned.

  She gave an exasperated – and exaggerated – sigh. ‘Do you not understand? We aren’t here to protect Princess Elizabeth from attack; we are here to protect the Queen. Elizabeth is a focus for all sorts of rebels, and some might come here to try to free the Princess.’

  ‘Who do you think would attempt a thing like that? The rebels were all captured. The Queen had several hundred executed, and their heads are on spikes at London, their bodies hang in chains all over the—’

  ‘And still more are prepared to take up the fight. Those who follow the true religion of …’

  I clapped my hands over my ears. It was painful, but I had to stop her words. ‘Enough! I don’t want to hear any more! You should be more careful to whom you speak sedition!’

  ‘Why? Would you report me?’

  ‘After all the troubles with the Queen’s choice of husband, any discussion about religion is likely to cause you problems, and there are many more men and women in here than only me for you to worry about!’

  ‘But many would willingly give their lives to protect the Queen, as would I,’ she said firmly.

  She had a sort of noble pride as she spoke, and she extended her neck to raise her chin, but all I could think was that she looked like a woman preparing herself for the headsman’s axe. I quashed the thought immediately. ‘I would be glad to protect her too,’ I said, ‘but just now you are talking about betraying your father’s duty. That can help no one. His task is to keep her here safe and well.’

  ‘And he will; so will I. I will see her safe from all dangers, if God wills it.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ I said sarcastically. ‘And that includes injuring poor gulls like me, I suppose?’

  ‘It includes anything I deem necessary for her safety,’ she said.

  There was a hardness to her tone as she said that, and I had a shiver run down my spine at the thought of her attacking me – and no, it wasn’t the sort of shiver that I’d get from one of Piers’s tarts in the Cardinal’s Hat, nor that which I enjoyed when Jen Falkes woke me up in my bed and … but there’s no need to go into that sort of detail here. No, the only shiver I got from seeing Anne Bedingfield look at me in that speculative manner was a deeply unpleasant sensation that dribbled down my spine like chilled quicksilver.

  She was eyeing me suspiciously now.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘You mentioned that Matthew wanted to open you up for something. What did you mean?’

  ‘He’s hunting for a seal, apparently. Sir Walter wants this thing. It’s a seal that Lady Margery used to have on a necklace.’ I didn’t mention the second necklace the boy had spoken of. ‘I suppose that’s why she had a little bruise on her neck. Someone grabbed it and broke it. Afterwards she wore a crucifix. Although it wasn’t on her body,’ I added. Perhaps One-Eye had taken it?

  There was no mistaking the look on her face. She was shocked or surprised. Perhaps she was alarmed too.

  ‘What do you know of this?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing. But if that’s so, what was this seal?’

  ‘Her son said it was Lady Margery’s father’s. Apparently, he was a great magnate up near Scotland at the border.’
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br />   ‘But he’s dead, so his seal is valueless.’

  That was true enough. A man’s seal was proof of his identity. Once he died, the seal’s relevance died with him.

  ‘Perhaps the thief thinks it has some other value. It’s made of gold, or has an expensive stone in it?’ I hazarded.

  ‘Or it’s a trifle, and Sir Walter merely wishes to find it again to learn who the murderer was,’ she said. She had recovered, and there was more colour in her face again.

  ‘Good. Well,’ I said, and prepared to push past her.

  ‘Wait!’ she said, and put her hand on my breast to keep me in my place. Her – or rather One-Eye’s – knife remained in her other hand, well out of my reach, and I wasn’t going to test myself against this sturdy Norfolk wench. She’d have me on the floor and calling for my mother in a blink of an eye. Not only because she was a hardy maiden, but also because my head was ungently reminding me that I had already had a deeply unpleasant day, and really needed an opportunity to go and rest it.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I would be glad of your observation to help me,’ she said, and now her voice was more uncertain. Her chin fell a little and she looked up at me from those enormous eyes. It was like having a puppy gaze up at me. Yes, I know, I’m a fool, but it’s difficult to reject a woman who looks at me as if I’m her very own Lancelot du Lac. My heart swelled at the sight.

  ‘Well, of course,’ I said.

  ‘All I would ask is that you keep a look on the gatehouse where Princess Elizabeth is being held. We have to protect her.’

  I eyed her without favour. ‘I can never find you. Do you have a maid whom I can meet to pass on any news?’

  ‘You will have to find me.’

  ‘But didn’t you have a maid? Her name was Alys?’

  ‘She is unwell and left me some months ago. No, I have no maidservants just now. You will have to find me. That way is more secure, anyway. If there is something significant to report, it will be safer for you to find me, in case of spies.’ She looked at me, very straight. ‘We will be safer that way.’

  Yes: We. I heard it too. As I stood outside, feeling the sun warming my face, I could not help but wonder how I had managed to become so enmeshed in this tangled web of politics and espionage. Only a few weeks ago I had been a contented foist, purloining people’s purses and coins with a range of simple tricks and nimbleness; then I was ensnared by Blount and others, and now here I was, working for the man.

  And I had been brought here to kill the woman who died.

  Suddenly, that murder seemed even more troublesome to me. After all, One-Eye had been there so soon after the woman’s death. The Coroner had the interesting idea that someone could have hurled the plate from the top of the stairs and run. That would mean someone had killed the woman a while before … and it also meant that my own innocence could be called into question again.

  One-Eye and Sir Walter interested me. The boy had told me about the seal, but as Lady Anne had said, it was valueless if the owner was dead. What sort of seal could this be? Was it worth good money? One-Eye had tried to capture me once, and his intentions had been still more distinct just now in the alleyway. I shuddered to think what his next approach might be. The only good aspect was, with any luck, he would have a shattered wrist after I slammed the door on it, but I wasn’t keen to test the matter. He had seriously believed that I had taken the opportunity to steal this thing. It was reasonable to assume that the seal had not been found, then.

  The woman who had died was, so Blount had said, a spy in the household of Princess Elizabeth. That meant the Princess would have had no reason to like Lady Margery; she must have been aware that the woman was installed there to report on anything that was going on. So she had a good motive to have Lady Margery removed. But One-Eye was more likely. He wanted something that the lady possessed.

  Others had the opportunity to kill her. Blount had wanted Lady Margery dead, and he had been near to the door. It would not surprise me if he met her in that passageway and decided to take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself as Harvey had hinted. From my own experience, Blount was not a man to be lightly set aside as of little consequence. He was a murderous fellow, well capable of taking a life if presented with a safe, easy chance encounter, and then fleeing to leave the blame on a poor innocent like me. Which would be easy enough, bearing in mind he brought me with the command that I should kill her myself.

  I was not happy with this reflection. If I’d felt a little less battered, I would have gone to him and demanded to know the truth, but the fact was that I felt awful, and while I would have been happy to see Blount beaten, I was in no fit condition to take on the task myself. The thought of punching a man, with my nose so swollen and painful, was enough to induce waves of nausea once more. So, instead of seeking him out, I walked out to the courtyard, thinking to find a space where I could cogitate about matters. The main thing, I decided, was to remain in full view of as many people as possible and avoid the darker, quieter spaces where an assassin could put an end to my ruminations. Ironic that I was supposed to be the assassin, yet here I was, hiding from another, who was plainly more competent and less fearful of the sight of blood than I was myself.

  ‘Keep back!’

  The man-at-arms blocked my path with his spear. It was a persuasive gesture. I peered over his shoulder. There were carts and sumptermen entering and leaving the gate, and I pointed. ‘They are all coming and going; why can’t I?’

  ‘The Coroner told us to keep all the household in here,’ the man said.

  ‘I’m not from the household. I’m staying down at the town,’ I explained.

  ‘Tell the Coroner that.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In the town.’

  ‘Then I will go to speak with him.’

  The spear turned to point at me. ‘You’ll wait until he’s back. You can’t leave.’

  I considered trying to make a run for it, but in my state I wouldn’t be able to outrun a one-legged cripple, so instead I made my way to a bench and wrapped my arms about me, staring at the gates and glowering at the guards.

  Where I was, I was concealed from the left by a buttress at the hall’s outer wall; on the right, an open door hid me. I could see much of the courtyard from there, but I was inconspicuous. I could see the gates and the stables, but that was not in my mind. All I wanted to do was sit back with my eyes closed and feel the sun on my face, warming my legs and chest. I was exhausted and angry to be kept in here like some kind of prisoner. There were others here who deserved to be held, but I just felt it to be a fresh injustice heaped on my head.

  The gatehouse which held Princess Elizabeth had a door that opened to the outer court, and as I watched, I saw a familiar figure stride from it. A portly gentleman, dressed in the most expensive of velvets and scarlets, with a merry cap upon his head, and a fashionable cloak trimmed with fur that would have looked good on a man twenty years his junior, and perhaps five stones lighter. For this was the Welshman, Sir Thomas Parry.

  Parry had a ready charm, his eyes twinkling brightly as he spoke. His voice carried a poetic and musical delight, and I’ve seen him hold an entire tavern spellbound when he wanted to. He had a light step for a big man, and his belly and chest were so swollen he could have been inflated. I’ve heard that there are men who could charm women from their husbands’ beds and still be favoured by the cuckold. This Parry was a man of that mould.

  I watched him leave the door, passing a coin or similar token to the guard at the door, and then make his way to the gates. He nodded to the porter and sauntered on through. Outside, I saw a horse and waiting urchin. Another coin, another smile and nod, and Parry was mounted on a sturdy pony.

  I rose to my feet. Thomas Parry was the man for whom Blount worked, and I was keen to speak with him. I hurried to go to him, but he had already spurred his beast and was trotting out through the gates. Increasing my speed, I was about to follow him when two polearms dropped and crossed
before me. ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘The Coroner has ordered …’ said one guard. It was my friend from earlier.

  ‘But you just let him go!’

  ‘He has the right and authority. You, on the other hand, don’t.’

  ‘What right and authority does he have?’

  ‘Sir Henry has given him permission to come and go, and since he wasn’t here when Lady Margery was killed, the Coroner has agreed.’

  ‘But I thought no one was allowed in since the murder?’

  ‘He’s the chief steward to the Queen’s sister. Who’s going to stop him seeing the Princess?’

  The guard had a point. To try to stop a sister to the Queen from seeing her key adviser would take a brave man, or a very foolish one. It was the sort of task that was well above his rank, and any man like him would be cautious about exposing himself to the anger of a woman who was quite so well connected. However, it made me wonder why on earth my master felt the need to come here when Master Parry could come and go at will. Perhaps it was only to watch my back, I reasoned. I was not convinced.