"On Sir Christopher's orders, sir. Mary and Poll from the kitchen did their best to clean away the blood."
Master Drew was thoughtful. There was, in fact, only one clean wound. One small incision which would lead the blade directly into the heart. Master Drew had seen such wounds before and they were usually made by a swift thrust of a rapier—a gentleman's weapon—and not the weapon favoured by cutthroats, footpads, and brigands of the London back streets.
"Did this young man have his own servant?"
"He did, sir,” replied Joseph with a tone of disapproval. “He brought with him from Ireland an outlandish sort of fellow who speaks a gentleman's English, though accented and interspersed with his gibberish Irish tongue. In fact, he was the one who spotted the footpads that attacked Master Hatton, causing them to run off, before he brought his body into the house."
Master Drew was surprised at this new intelligence.
"What is the man's name?"
"He tells us that he is called Broder Power, from some town called Waterford."
"Ask him to join me here."
The footman looked as though he would raise an objection and then, meeting Master Drew's steely gaze, inclined his head for a moment and went off to fulfil his task.
Master Drew took the opportunity of the servant's absence to make a quick search of the bedroom. There was a small walnut writing bureau. Obviously Master Hatton had neither inclination nor time for letter writing for the interior showed no sign of recent usage.
There were clothes in the closet that spoke of good taste and quality. Henry Hatton certainly did not want for money to buy the best that master tailors could offer. He ruffled through the silks and satins. One cloak caused him to pause; it was a dark blue satin cloak that had a collar edged with pure white fur and black flecks and even the edging was of the same. Master Drew frowned. He recognised the fur as taken from one of the weasel family, prized for its tail of pure white fur and black tip. He grimaced and then closed the closet door.
An intricately worked walnut dresser contained articles of a toilet nature, with bottles of scents and fragrances that again spoke of good taste. Some drawers were filled with stockings and undergarments, all of good quality. He was about to turn away when he saw some something bright under some of the silk clothing. It was a small silver locket on a chain of similar metal. He took it out—inscribed on the silver was a shield and a motto. The shield displayed two bulls’ heads divided by a chevron from a third bull's head. Master Drew knew the motto as French, as he had a little knowledge of the language. "Le plus heureux"—The most happy. He opened the locket. There was room for two miniature portraits inside. The one on the left-hand side had been removed, but clumsily so, leaving tiny splinters of the wood base on which it had been painted. The second portrait, on the right side, was still there. It was the features of the young man who currently lay dead on the bed before him.
Taking the locket in one hand, Master Drew went to the bedside and peered down. There was no doubt of it. This was a miniature of the young man who had met his end by a single thrust of a blade. The constable shook his head, closed the locket, pausing briefly to look at the arms again, and then, hearing a step outside the door, he placed it down on the side table.
There was a tap on the door and he bade the person who knocked enter.
Joseph, the footman, came in, followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early twenties, with dark hair, fair skin, and the build and manner of a soldier rather than a servant.
"This is Broder Power, Master Drew,” said the liveried footman, indicating his distaste with a grimace.
"Then you may wait outside, Joseph,” Master Drew replied.
The footman hesitated and then shrugged and removed himself.
The young man who entered glanced at the body on the bed and his hand moved to touch his forehead. Then he realised Master Drew was watching and caught himself.
"I am not interested in your religion, Master Power,” the constable said immediately, realising that the man was about to make the sign of the Cross. “Though, out of curiosity, was your late master a Papist?"
"He was not, a dhuine usal ... I mean, Your Honour. But no finer heretical gentleman have I served."
Master Drew smiled.
"Then I would choose my words more carefully while you are in England at this time."
Broder Power nodded quickly.
"It is hard to be indifferent in the presence of the dead, Your Honour."
"I have a few questions for you. How long have you served Master Hatton?"
"Just over one year."
"And you are from Ireland?"
"Master Hatton had an estate outside the city of Waterford, where I come from. I served in my lord the Earl of Clancarthy's troops and after Lord Montjoy defeated us at Kinsale...” He shrugged. “Well, I was taken prisoner, but Master Hatton gave me my freedom if I served him faithfully."
"Then you are a soldier, not a house servant?"
"A Dhia na bhfeart, a dhuine usail, it is so. Master Hatton hired me to guard his person but I have failed in that."
"Why did he need a bodyguard?"
"He said he had enemies in high places and wanted to be sure that he had protection against an assassin's knife."
"Why were you not with him this evening?"
"He ordered it so."
"Why did he come to London?"
"He told me that he had to fulfill that to which he was born."
"When did he tell you this?"
"Two weeks ago. A messenger came to him in Waterford. I know not what news he brought. But Master Hatton said that we must sail to England forthwith and it took us time to get ship and sail to London. We arrived scarcely two days ago."
Master Drew changed subject abruptly. “He used to wear a signet ring, I am told."
"He did, a dhuine usail. I saw it many times."
"Yet he is not wearing it now."
Power took a step towards the bed and stared.
"By the powers, he is not."
"Do you know what happened to it?"
"He was wearing it when he left here this afternoon."
"And his sword?"
"I think the footpads fled with that. Also, he used to wear a Venetian stiletto on his left side. As I recall, he was not wearing that when I found the body."
"Before we come to that, cast your memory back. What was on that signet ring? Can you recall its emblem?"
"Oh, that I can, a dhuine usail. I used to laugh at it, for Master Hatton was a young man of action and I would have thought he would have had some emblem depicting that. A fighting animal or bird—an eagle, a raven, a lion, or even a bull. No, the emblem he wore was that of a pelican."
Master Drew let out a soft breath.
"A pelican, say you?"
"A white pearl pelican set against a ruby stone."
"And his sword? Was there anything that distinguished it?"
"It was of fine workmanship. There were roses worked around the handle-guard and some Latin inscription on the blade. I can't recall exactly what it was."
"Tell me of the events of today. How was it that Master Hatton, being so afeared of assassination, told you to remain here and went abroad alone?"
Broder Power rubbed his jaw with his hand.
"Just as I say, a dhuine usail. He told me to remain. I think a messenger came to the house with a note. On the intelligence he received from this note, he told me that he was going to the Chancery buildings not far away and there was no reason for me to accompany him. I protested but a little. But he girth on his sword and dagger, laughed, and departed. I was unhappy. Master Hatton was a good man, albeit an Englishman, and I vowed to serve him well. I followed at a distance. Indeed, he went directly to the Chancery buildings. I believe them to be your courts of law?"
Master Drew nodded.
"In a small garden, among those buildings, I saw him encounter a young lady."
"Can you describe her?"
"Tha
t I can and well, a dhuine usail ... I mean, Your Honour, for she had called at this very house the day we had arrived. I heard Sir Christopher greet her distantly and call her Lady Hatton."
Master Drew stared for a moment at the man.
"Lady Hatton?” he echoed thoughtfully. “And you felt there was some animosity in the greeting from Sir Christopher?"
"'Twas like watching two skilled fencing artists exchange an opening clash of their blades. I heard her say she wished to be introduced to her new cousin, by which I think she meant my master. But Sir Christopher told her he was not within the house. God save him, but that was a lie, for he was within his room."
"And this was the same lady that met with your master in the Chancery gardens?"
"It was, er ... Your Honour. And that is the truth of it. I observed them for a while. They appeared in long discussion. But I misdoubt that it was a comfortable exchange of kinsfolk. There seemed some anger in the air. My master stood up and took his leave. Thinking that I could quickly catch him, I lingered to watch the lady, who walked to a shaded arch. I noticed there was a coach there, a coach and two horses. A man leant out and she spoke awhile to him and once pointed in the direction my master had taken."
"Did you observe this man? What was he like and were there any distinguishing marks on the coach?"
"There was a shield on the coach. I think it was blue and white horizontal bars on it and some animals but, in truth, I would not be able to tell one of your English heraldic signs from another. I know the man in the coach had a tawny beard, reddish hair, and as he leant from the coach window it seem to me the gentleman was crooked of back, though it might have been the angle from which I was observing the encounter. The coach moved off and I quickly followed my master. Dia linn! I lost sight of him until he reached the very street wherein we were dwelling with Sir Christopher. Dusk was falling but I saw several things at once that demanded my attention.
"I saw the same coach disappearing down the street. I saw my master on the ground and two men were bending over him. One held my master's sword, which he had obviously wrenched from him, for it was still in its scabbard. The other was...” Master Power paused and exclaimed—"A Dhia! One was tearing at his hand. He must have been taking the signet ring. I yelled, stupidly so, for I was some distance away and unable to close with the thieves. They looked up, saw me, and took to their heels. I thought it more important to get my poor master to the house and call for help rather than chase them."
Master Drew spoke sharply.
"Can you describe them?"
"They had dark cloaks about them and hats that shaded their faces. One thing I observed—that they wore good boots."
Master Drew raised an eyebrow.
"Good boots? Why would you observe that?"
"It occurred to me only later. I have seen some of the poor in the city. Many, like in my own sad country, go barefoot or cannot afford good quality leather to wear and resort to wooden shoes or the like. These had good boots."
"So you brought Master Hatton inside. And then?"
"He was pronounced dead. It needed no physician to confirm it. Sir Christopher was in a great state of anguish, naturally so, it being his cousin. We placed him here. The other gentleman, Sir Edward, was with Sir Christopher at the time and there was some discussion. Then Sir Edward left and on his return he brought you here, a dhuine usail. These are the facts as I know them."
Master Drew sighed and was troubled.
"Tell me, Master Power, do you have your means of support?"
Broder Power looked at him curiously.
"I have my health, a good blade, and a fair sword arm, a purse with scarce a guinea in it. I relied on the patronage and employment of my master."
"Accept my advice, Master Broder Power, and return to your own country and do so immediately. Better still, go join your countrymen in France and Spain, for now Mountjoy has defeated O'Neill, I do fear that things will not go well for your people in Ireland. Slip away from this house this minute while it is still dark and vanish as quickly as you can. It is better that you do not know the reasons why, but I urge you to do so if you value your life and liberty."
Broder Power stared at Master Drew curiously and then he glanced to the corpse on the bed.
"Then my master was an important person? This was the assassination he feared?"
"You are an intelligent man, Master Power,” replied the constable. “At this time, in this place, an intelligent man knows when not to seek answers to such questions."
"I will do as you say, a dhuine usail ... Your Honour."
Master Drew left Broder Power and was conducted by the stony-faced Joseph down the stairs to the drawing room, where Sir Edward and Sir Christopher were waiting impatiently.
"You have been awhile, Constable,” greeted Sir Christopher in surly manner. “The hour grows late."
"The constable has a reputation for thoroughness,” intervened Sir Edward in a conciliatory tone. “Is it not so? Have you come to some conclusions, Master Drew?"
Master Drew smiled thinly.
"Will you assuage my curiosity, Sir Edward?"
"Of course, of course. Sir Christopher, a glass of malmsey for the good constable."
Master Drew declined the wine and said: “I do not seek to cause offence, but I was wondering about Lady Hatton, Sir Edward. I mean Lady Elizabeth Hatton, your wife."
Sir Edward's brow creased in a frown of annoyance
"My wife and I have led separate lives this past year or so."
"I was merely curious, forgive me, but what was her family?"
"She was a Cecil, Master Drew. The daughter of Thomas Cecil, Lord Burghley. Why do you inquire?"
Master Drew sighed deeply, as if he had suspected the answer.
"Forgive me, as I say, it was but a passing curiosity on my part."
"And so to your observations,” snapped Sir Christopher. “My cousin's death must be officially pronounced before we can begin the burial procedures...."
Master Drew turned to him.
"I believe...” he began.
There was a thunderous knocking at the door that startled them all. They could hear servants scurrying to the door, voices raised, and then Joseph opened the doors, but before he could speak a small man came pushing into the room. Behind him were two men wearing the livery of the queen's guards. Their weapons were not drawn, but they were well armed.
Sir Edward was the first to recover from his surprise.
"Sir Robert! What brings you abroad at this late hour?"
Sir Robert was a slight man, dwarfish in stature, with a humpback, reddish hair, a tawny beard, and large green eyes that had a hard quality to them. They swept the gathering with a coldness that did not match the grim smile on the man's thin lips. Master Drew bowed stiffly, for it did not achieve anything to antagonise Sir Robert Cecil, Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State to Her Majesty.
"Business of state brings me abroad at this hour, as you should know well, Sir Edward.” He made no reference or apology for the armed guards at the door.
"How can I serve you, Sir Robert?” Sir Christopher came forward nervously.
"I have lately come from Richmond Palace. Her Majesty is dying and will not, according to her physicians, last out the week. She has, as Sir Edward will know, consistently refused to name or approve a successor. These are perilous times, gentlemen. Claims and counterclaims to the throne will plunge this kingdom into the bloodiest civil war since the queen's grandfather overthrew Richard of York at Bosworth. Pretenders and claimants gather like conspirators. It is my task to protect the kingdom and, on intelligence from the physicians, I have now sent a draft constitutional agreement to the queen's cousin, the King of Scots, in that if His Majesty so desires he may proceed here to London, on Her Majesty's demise, and be accorded the Crown of England as well as Scotland."
The announcement did not seem to surprise Sir Edward. He merely inclined his head almost as if in surrender.
"It was good o
f you to seek me out and tell me so, Sir Robert. I will repair to Richmond forthwith as my duty lies with being at my sovereign's bedside at the hour of her death."
Sir Robert made a curious motion of his hand.
"Yet I hear, Sir Christopher, you have also had a death here at your house?” He glanced to Master Drew. “I also understand that you have sent for an official to make inquiries into the manner and perpetrators of this death."
Master Drew swallowed slightly. He knew that Sir Robert ran a web of spies and informers and, indeed, assassins which protected the realm from any perceived threat by the queen's enemies.
"Master Drew has not yet had time...” began Sir Christopher.
"On the contrary,” Master Drew said decisively, “I was just about to deliver my summation."
Sir Christopher seemed to exchange a frightened glance with Sir Edward and both men were tight-lipped and anxious.
"It is a sad matter, but not an uncommon one,” went on Master Drew. “I understand that Sir Christopher's young cousin, Master Henry Hatton, was but lately arrived from Ireland. New to London and London ways, he went abroad this afternoon and returning was attacked by two footpads who stabbed him through the heart. While they were proceeding to rob him, taking his ring and sword, they were disturbed by his servant, who rushed upon the scene. They fled, and the servant carried his master's body here, whereupon he was found to be dead. I am afraid the matter was a simple one. We may never find the perpetrators."
Sir Robert raised his eyebrows and, for the first time, there was amusement on his features.
"Simple? Very well. Perhaps we should seek confirmation from the mouth of this unfortunate young man's servant? He being the only witness."
Joseph, who had been standing silently at the door, coughed and spoke apologetically to Sir Christopher.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but at the time of the arrival of Sir Robert I was coming to inform you that Master Hatton's servant has fled. He was left in Master Hatton's bedroom. I suppose, seeing no means of further employment, the rogue did take the purse that was on his master's body still and, indeed, searched a few drawers, for their contents were spilt. I do not know what other valuables he has made off with. But the window was open and it is an easy passage to the ground from there. I fear he has vanished into the streets of London."
EQMM, February 2010 Page 2