“I cannot spare you more time, Master Constable. I wish you a good morning and success with your endeavours.”
Outside the gates of Winchester Palace, Master Drew paused, frowning, one hand fingering the golden chain that reposed in his breeches pocket.
He sighed deeply. It was going to be a long walk to where he felt his next enquiry was going to take him. His allowance as Constable of the Bankside Watch would not stretch to what the justices of Southwark might deem the unnecessary expense of a wherryman to ferry him across the river. So, with a shrug, he set off for the entrance to the London Bridge. He was walking towards it when a voice hailed him.
“Give you a good day, Master Constable.”
He glanced up to see old Jepheson, the tanner, guiding his wagonload of hides towards the bridge. Master Drew knew him well for he had prevented the old man and his wife from being attacked and robbed one summer evening in their tannery in Bear Lane.
“Good day, Master Jepheson. Whither away?”
“To deliver these hides to The Strand.”
Master Drew smiled broadly. Here was luck indeed.
“Then I will seek the favour of a ride there with you for it will save me an exhausting walk and the wear of my shoe leather.”
“Climb up and welcome. I am already in your debt.”
Master Drew obeyed with alacrity. While old Jepheson prattled on, the constable could not help but dwell on the meaning of the golden chain in his pocket. A Spanish noble order found on the corpse of a murdered man... All England knew that the long war between England and Spain was coming to a negotiated end. Envoys from the two kingdoms were even now meeting in the palace built by the Duke of Somerset. Since 1585 the war had continued, with no side gaining any advantage. With the death of Elizabeth and the accession last year of James VI of Scotland as James I of England, it was felt the time had come to end the long and wasteful war. The old enemy, Philip II of Spain, was also dead and Philip III now ruled there. Six leading Spanish noblemen had arrived with their entourages to conduct the negotiations that would, hopefully, lead to a peace treaty.
Somerset House was on the north bank of the River Thames. Southwark was south of London Bridge and therefore a separate jurisdiction from London. It owed its importance to this position at the farther end of the only bridge spanning the Thames, making it the main thoroughfare to the south. It had further increased its prosperity and population by making itself a pleasure ground for the more law-abiding citizens of the north bank of the Thames. It had been only in 1550 that the City of London had decided to attempt to control the lawlessness of Southwark by setting up Justices and Constables, such as Master Drew, to impose order there.
But Southwark still felt separate and would not be forced into obedience to the Justices of London. It became the headquarters of the rebel Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1554, when he raised an insurgent force to move on London and prevent Queen Mary’s intended marriage to Philip II of Spain. Only the fortification on the northern end of London Bridge and the training of the cannons of the Tower of London across the river on the homes and churches of the people of Southwark, had forced the withdrawal of the insurgents.
It was because of this “independence”, this freedom and laxity in the laws, that the Bankside area became the place where playhouses had sprung up, beyond the restrictions placed on their neighbours on the northern bank. The Bankside had become a haunt of prostitutes, pimps and thieves. Master Drew’s remit was to impose order upon them, but because of the separation in jurisdiction he realized he would be unable to exercise his authority on the northern bank.
Master Drew left Jepheson and his wagon of hides in The Strand and walked to the gates of Somerset House. In the courtyard an officer of the guard stopped him and shook his head when Drew said he wanted to see one of the Spanish delegation or their secretaries.
“You have no jurisdiction here, Constable,” replied the officer. “I can let no one through without legal authority.”
“Master Drew?” a sharp voice suddenly called behind him.
The constable swung round. A man of small stature, crookback, with a tawny-coloured beard and hair, and sharp green eyes, was examining him. He had apparently emerged from a nearby doorway. The officer of the guard stiffened and saluted while Master Drew performed a clumsy bow as he recognized the Lord Chancellor of England, Sir Robert Cecil.
“I thought it was you,” Sir Robert said, with a soft, malicious smile. “I never forget a face. What business brings you hither?”
Master Drew tried to repress thoughts of how Sir Robert had come perilously close to having him arrested for conspiracy to High Treason while Elizabeth lay dying the previous year.
“A matter that may be one of national importance, Sir Robert.”
The Lord Chancellor raised his eyebrows and then waved away the officer of the guard.
“Then, come walk with me, and tell me what you mean.”
As they paced the courtyard, Master Drew, with few wasted words, explained what had happened and ended by presenting Sir Robert with the gold chain.
The Lord Chancellor frowned as he examined it.
“I have seen the like before and recently. You have in mind that it belongs to one of the Spanish delegation?”
“And even worse,” agreed Master Drew, “that the owner of the chain and the body in the house on Stony Street may be one of your Spanish nobles. If it is so and one of the ambassadors has been murdered at such a fraught time...” He shrugged.
The diplomatic implications were not lost on Sir Robert.
“If so, then indeed we face perilous times,” he said softly. He turned back to the officer of the guard and called to him.
“Go to the apartment of His Grace, the Duke of Frias, and ask him if it would not be troubling him too much if he could attend me in my chamber. I pray you, put as much courtesy and politeness into the request as you can.”
The officer went off on his new errand.
Sir Robert guided Master Drew into the building and through to a chamber where a fire crackled in the hearth.
“I have seen the Duke of Frias returning from his morning ride, so I know he is safe,” confided Sir Robert. “He is chief ambassador of the Spanish and should be able to assist in this matter.”
It seemed only a short time passed before there was a knock on the door and the officer of the guard entered and stood to one side.
“His Grace Juan de Velasco Frias, Duke of Frias, Constable of Castile,” he announced solemnly.
A tall, dark and elegantly dressed man entered and made a sweeping courtly bow to them.
Sir Robert went forward to greet him.
“Your Grace, forgive me for disturbing your morning’s preoccupations, but we must ask for your advice and information on a matter of pressing concern to both our nations.”
The Duke smiled with a cursory movement of his facial muscles. His dark eyes looking enquiringly at Master Drew, taking in his more shabby clothing and appearance, which clearly did not place him as a courtier or officer of state.
“It is what I and my compatriots are here for, Sir Robert. But I have not had the pleasure of this gentleman’s acquaintance.”
“This is Master Drew, a Constable of the Bankside...”
“Master Drew? And a Constable? I am Constable of Castile. Do you not have to be of the knightly rank to be a Constable in this kingdom?”
“There is a difference in office, Your Grace,” Sir Robert explained hurriedly. “Suffice to say, Master Drew is much in our confidence. Tell me, have you seen all your compatriots this morning?”
The Duke frowned.
“All? Indeed, we breakfasted together to discuss some points to raise at our sessions later today. Why do you ask?”
“Master Drew has something to explain.”
Master Drew cleared his throat and repeated his story and then held out the chain for the Spaniard to inspect.
“The Order of the Golden Fleece,” the D
uke whispered softly. “It bears the insignia of His Majesty, Felipe III.” The expression on his face told them he recognized the significance of this discovery. He turned his dark eyes to Sir Robert. “Can someone ask the Count of Villa Medina to join us?”
Sir Robert glanced towards the officer of the guard who had remained by the door, and issued instructions.
When he had gone Master Drew asked: “Does Your Grace think that this belongs to the Count of Villa Medina?’
The Duke of Frias shook his head.
“I know that the Count of Villa Medina is not a member of this noble order. However, he will, I am sure, be able to cast light on the person who held this honour.”
Again, it was not long before the door was opened, to a nervous man whose movements reminded Master Drew of a bird, quick and unpredictable. He possessed the habit of running his hand swiftly over his small pointed beard each time he spoke.
This time, the Duke of Frias explained in rapid Spanish and then turned to Master Drew and asked him to hold forth the golden chain.
The Count’s face paled as he examined it.
“I can identify the owner of this,” he said slowly. He spoke a fair English but without the fluency of the Duke.
“And the owner is...?” queried Master Drew.
“My secretary, the Chevalier Stefano Jardiniero y Barbastro.”
Master Drew frowned.
“Stefano Jardiniero?” he echoed.
The Count made a motion with his hand, stroking his beard rapidly.
“He is of an English family who fled to Spain on the death of Mary, former Queen Consort of Spain.”
Sir Robert sniffed in embarrassment as he explained.
“Stefano Jardiniero was a nephew of Bishop Stephen Gardiner. That is why the name is familiar. I recall the family.”
Master Drew tried to hide his surprise.
“Bishop Gardiner of Winchester?”
“The family was granted asylum by the late King Felipe who gave them an estate in Barbastro,” added the Count of Villa Medina. “The Chevalier proved his nobility and loyalty in the King’s service and so was ennobled by the court and made a member of this order.”
Sir Robert glanced keenly at Master Drew.
“I am aware that Bishop Gardiner sent several worthy men to the flames as martyrs for the Protestant cause. Therefore there may be some who would see the death of one of his family as just retribution. But before we reach such a conclusion, let us seek out the facts. I presume the Chevalier is currently unaccounted for?”
The Count looked embarrassed and nodded.
“I sent for him this morning to discuss notes appertaining to the treaty but was told he was not in his chambers and that his bed had not been slept in. He has not been seen since last evening.”
“And why has an alarm not been raised?”
The Count of Villa Medina shrugged.
“The Chevalier is still a young man and there are many distractions in this city to preoccupy him.”
Master Drew looked sharply at him. The manner of his speech was careful to the point where it seemed obvious that he was withholding something.
“If I am to expedite this matter, I need to know all the facts.”
The Count was hesitant but the Duke of Frias spoke to him sharply in Spanish.
“It is true,” the Count said, as if answering the Duke but in English. He turned to Master Drew. “Very well, the facts it shall be. The Chevalier said he had to go out last evening, as he wanted to collect an old... how do you call it? Una reliquia de familia.”
The Duke translated for him.
“A family heirloom. He spoke to the Count of this within my hearing. He mentioned no further details.”
Master Drew sighed deeply.
“I would be grateful if the Count would accompany me across to Bankside in order that he may formally identify the body. After all, it may not be the Chevalier’s. But if it is, let us confirm it. Perhaps, Sir Robert, you might provide a coach to take us south of the river? I cannot ask the Count to walk with me.”
“Even better,” replied the Lord Chancellor, “there is a boat by the quayside at my constant disposal that will make your journey shorter.” He turned to the officer of the guard. “Captain, take you two good stalwarts of your guard and accompany Master Drew and the Count. You are the constable’s to command and his commands may be given in my name. Is that clear?”
The officer saluted and turned to fulfil his task.
A moment later the Count and guards were seated with Master Drew in the boat, whose four oars were manned by men in the livery of the Lord Chancellor. It pushed off from the north bank, making its way swiftly over the dark waters of the Thames, south towards the less than salubrious quays and wooden piers that lined the Bankside.
An elderly man limped forward to help tie up the boat in the hope of receiving a coin for his trouble. Master Drew recognized him as one of those unfortunates who regularly frequented the quays to scavenge or pick up the odd job here and there. A thought suddenly came to him.
“Were you about the quays last evening?” he demanded sharply.
The man touched his cap awkwardly.
“That I was, Master Constable. I do be here most times unless the ague confine me to the pot room at the Bell, wherein I do be given a place by the fire by the good office of the innkeeper.”
“Did you notice a boat similar to this one?” He jerked his head towards the boat they had arrived in. “Did a young man land here last night?”
“There be many young men come to the Bankside, good Master. You know as well as I. Young rakes in search of a good time at the taverns or theatres and the company of low women.”
Master Drew took out a penny and fingered it before the man’s eyes.
“This man would have been well dressed and foreign withal.”
“Foreign, you say? Spoke he like a Dago?”
Drew’s eyes narrowed.
“You spoke with him?”
“By my soul, I did. It was late and I was about to go back to the Bell. There were few folk around. He came from the quay and asked if I could direct him to Stony Street, which I did. He then asked if I knew whether the Gardiner house still stood. That I could not say for I had never heard of it. But when he confided that Gardiner was once the bishop here, I said he had best call at Winchester Palace and enquire there. I told him where that was and he gave me a coin and went his way. That’s all I do know.”
Master Drew dropped the penny into the man’s hand and instructed the boatmen to stand ready to transport the Count back to Somerset House. The mortuary was not far away and, as soon as the Count had confirmed that the body of the young man was, indeed, that of his missing secretary, the Chevalier Stefano Jardiniero, he was despatched with one of the guards back to the boat, with assurances that his murderer would soon be found.
With the officer and the other guard in attendance, Master Drew made his way directly to Winchester Palace and went straightway to the gatekeeper, who was the same man who had been on duty earlier.
“Who was on watch here last night between dusk and midnight?” he demanded without preamble.
The man looked nervously from the constable, whom he knew, to the liveried soldiers behind him.
“Why, old Martin, Master Drew.”
“And where shall I find old Martin?” snapped the constable.
“About this time o’ day, he’ll be in the Bear Pit Tavern.”
It was a short walk to the tavern, which was on the quayside, and old Martin was soon pointed out.
Master Drew seated himself opposite the elderly man.
“Last evening you were the watch at the entrance to Winchester Palace.” It was a statement and not a question.
Martin looked at him with rheumy eyes.
“I cannot deny it.”
“A young foreign gentleman called there?”
“He did, good master. That he di
d. He asked me if the Gardiner House on Stony Street still stood.”
“And you told him?”
“I told him that all the houses belonged to the diocese of Winchester, and which did he mean? He was trying to explain when Master Burton came by and took him aside to offer his help. They were deep in conversation for a while and then the foreign gentleman... well, he went off looking quite content.”
“You saw no more of him?”
“None.”
“And who is this Master Burton?”
“Why, he be manservant to Sir Gilbert Scrivener.”
The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 10 Page 3