The Colour of Evil: A Sebastian Foxley Medieval Murder Mystery

by Toni Mount

  I most certainly did.

  ‘To your knowledge, mistress, has Hamo ever had any dealings with Clement Mallard?’

  ‘How did you know of it? Aye, afore he lost his place at the Tower, he did some repairs to them fancy gates at Mallard Court.’ She pulled at her lip again with her forward teeth. ‘You know, I thought at the time that miserly old curmudgeon seemed to have paid him over well. He was so loaded with coin for two days’ work, he didn’t pester me for my laundry earnings for weeks.’

  ‘And where might I find Hamo’s workshop now, good mistress?’

  ‘Well, he has a place – a hovel at best – down by Galley Quay. You know it?’

  ‘Aye, and ’tis close at hand to the vintner’s warehouse. I doubt ’tis naught but a coincidence. Does he have his furnace there, also?’

  ‘Nay. The hovel is too small. He used to have his furnace at the farthest end of Tower Street and may have yet. There’s an entrance to some old tunnels there that run under the Tower. The entrance was blocked up years since but Hamo found they were a quick way into the fortress. Aye, and a quick way out without being inspected for filched silver from the mint. I think he set up a little forge there, within the entrance, but I’ve never been inside. I’m not one for tunnels, you see.’

  ‘Neither am I,’ I admitted. ‘I experienced those tunnels myself once and would not repeat it for a king’s ransom. But where might I – we, Bailiff Turner and I – find this entrance, should the need arise?’

  ‘Tis off a yard – Cutpurse Yard, I think it’s known as – in a narrow passage called Furnace Alley. In truth, that may not be its name but Hamo calls it so. There’s a sort of hovel built there to hide the way into the tunnel. But don’t go there, young master, without armed men, if you value your life. The bailiff is not enough. You know Hamo’s strength of arm as well as I do.’

  ‘I shall have a care for that, fear not.’ I stood and touched my cap to her. ‘I thank you, mistress, for both the mead and the information. I must go tell Bailiff Turner what you have told me. Fare you well, good mistress. Ralf? Will you come or stay?’

  ‘I’ll finish my drink then make my way back to Paternoster Row, master, at my own pace. Unless you need me at Guildhall to speak with the bailiff?’

  Guildhall

  It was decided. Thaddeus said that we should seek out the forge this very afternoon: ‘Strike whilst the iron’s hot’, as he put it so appropriately. However, despite Mistress Alder’s insistence that we should take an army along with us, the bailiff thought otherwise.

  ‘I’d prefer to use a little subterfuge… investigate the situation quietly, he said. ‘As yet, we have no cause to arrest or even suspect this fellow Hamo. If we find evidence of crime, then I’ll fetch the constables with me to take him in charge. But if I do that in the first instance and find naught, I’ll look a fool and he’ll be forewarned to dispose of anything incriminating in his possession elsewhere. By the by, that casket we found at Mallard’s counting-house contained two coin dies, both genuine, stolen from the Royal Mint. I know not how he came by them but they put the vintner at the heart of this counterfeiting business.’

  ‘Hamo was thought to have filched them,’ I said. ‘That be the reason he was dismissed, though it could not be proven.’

  ‘Not if the stolen items were in Mallard’s possession. That would explain why they weren’t to be found with Hamo but I suspect he has use of them – or did ’til now. What say you, Seb? Do you think you and me and your dog can manage a little espying? Do you want to join me?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ My doubt sat plain in my voice. ‘But, if you allow, I would have my cousin come also. Adam be right handy in, er, physical situations.’

  ‘Aye, if the presence of a third party will ease your mind. I’ll send a runner to fetch him, straightway. Will he be at your place?’

  Some way beyond the end of Tower Street.

  Lowering clouds made the warren of rat-infested passageways and narrow alleys dark and dismal. The torches we had brought to light the way, if we had to enter a tunnel – which I prayed we would not – were nigh worth kindling outside in this gloomy corner of the city. The outer walls of the Tower of London loomed large with the weight of years. Hovels and tumbledown shacks cowered like frightened children beneath its stone skirts, all of them crooked and left to rot. It was a wonder and a sorry one that folk lived here at all but it seemed they did.

  Furtive faces peeked from broken doorways and lurking shadows made hasty retreat into yet darker, secret holes.

  The stench was eye-watering. Flies swarmed. It seemed the scawagers ne’er ventured here to clean the streets. A dead dog, worm-ridden, had lain some days and none had removed it. Heaps of ordure blocked our way, making progress through this obnoxious labyrinth slow indeed with many a side-step and detour. And all the while, the storm clouds gathered above, closing out the light.

  We four – Adam, Thaddeus, Gawain and I – found a court with a narrow alley leading off it, towards the Tower. It fit Mistress Alder’s description well enough. At the end was a hovel: little more than a few timber palings nailed together. But it proved to be the concealed entrance, as I had been told.

  ‘I cannot go in there.’ I eyed the narrow cleft that led off into absolute darkness. ‘I have been lost in these tunnels ’neath the Tower a year since. It was terrifying, blacker than hell itself. I will not do so again.’

  ‘Come on, Seb. I never had you marked out for a coward,’ Adam said. ‘Besides, this time there are three of us and we each have a torch to light our way. And this can’t be the same tunnel since the Tower is over yonder.’

  ‘And how else will we unravel this mystery?’ Thaddeus added. ‘You want answers, do you not? As we all do.’

  ‘Aye, but not down a tunnel… See Gawain? He has better sense. He wants no part of this, wise dog that he be.’ It was true for Gawain’s tail and ears were drooping and he had come but half a pace within the hovel. He whimpered at the prospect.

  ‘Gawain can wait here for our return. Have courage, cousin: we’ll come to no harm.’

  ‘How can you know? Who can tell what dangers may lurk within? We be in search of an evil-doer. If he lies in wait for us…’

  ‘How can anyone be lying in wait? Nobody knows we’re coming.’ Adam was peeved at my reticence.

  ‘I do not like the feel of this place.’

  ‘Stop it, Seb. I’m going in and Thaddeus is coming with me to sort this matter out, once and for all. Is that not so, Thaddeus?’ My cousin seemed to have taken charge, eager for adventure.

  The bailiff nodded agreement as Adam took flint and tinder and lit our torches.

  ‘You can come with us, or wait here or go home; whatever you please,’ he said, waiting as the flames caught and settled. ‘Come along, Thaddeus. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.’

  I watched as my cousin and my friend squeezed their way through the narrow entrance, pushing aside the nailed boards that had concealed it, disappearing from my sight. Only then did it occur to me: it was likely a black maze beyond; how would they find their way back out of the labyrinth?

  ‘Wait! I have chalk to mark the walls.’ I rummaged for the piece of soft white rock within my scrip. Afore I realised, I was hastening after them; chalk in one hand and a lighted torch in the other. A yard or two into the tunnel, I paused to mark a bold chalk cross upon the wall to the left hand, then followed on, hearing the footsteps and voices ahead of me. Every twenty paces or thereabouts, I marked another cross – Our Lord’s symbol to guide us back to the light when this devil’s enterprise was done.

  It was as well that I had thought to use the chalk forewhy my torch illumined many a side passage, leading off on either hand, into oblivion. We might so easily take a wrong turning upon our return, for the tunnels seemed a nest of entangled serpents, all entwined. We were together now, Adam and Thaddeus having waited for me to catch up. As
siduously, I continued to mark the wall. In places, this proved difficult, where I had to scratch away the slime; in others, the stones were dry but crumbling to dust. I feared a roof fall might happen at any moment but kept silent regarding my anxieties. As it was, my cousin had named me for a cowardly fellow. It concerned me greatly that we had not the least idea of our destination nor what we would find there. How might we know if we were but seeking spectres and phantasms? Was there anything to be found down here? Mayhap, we were cursed to wander in this foul place, forever lost in darkness.

  I checked my wild thoughts, meandering like these tunnels. All will be well, I told myself. I wiped sweat from my brow.

  ‘Look to our torch flames,’ I said. No longer bright yellow, they burned a dull, amber hue. ‘If we hope to find some alchemical process being conducted, then that requires fire. Fire makes smoke and, since no one could see and breathe in thick smoke, there must be a vent or chimney through which it makes its escape. I sense we be too far underground by now for either case. If such work goes on here, it must be in one of the side passages closer to the entrance. Nobody would bring a still, furnace, charcoal and equipment so far as this.’

  ‘They could put it in a barrow. The passages are wide enough,’ Adam said, ‘I think we should go a way farther. After all, these tunnels must have been built to serve a purpose once.’

  ‘I don’t know… ’Tis airless in here,’ Thaddeus said, sagging against the wall, knocking loose a shower of dust which set us coughing. ‘I’m getting breathless just walking.’

  He was correct and Adam agreed.

  ‘Call me coward, if you will,’ I said. ‘But I think we must go back. There be evil here; I sense it surrounding us. Besides, I do not feel so good.’ Only as I spoke the words did I realise it was the case. My head ached and was rapidly filling with cobwebs, making clear thought more difficult by the moment.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Thaddeus insisted. ‘Seb’s right. I’m feeling strange too. Come on.’

  The bailiff turned his back and began to retrace his steps. He held his torch, ever dimmer now, so it shone upon the wall, searching out the chalk crosses.

  Much in need now of fresh air and – in my case – daylight, we went eagerly, although a strange lethargy began to drag at my heels. The others were slowing also and I found myself ahead of them both upon our retreat. Then came disaster.

  Of a sudden, I could not see any chalk crosses. I searched the walls, frantic to rediscover our holy guidance. My first panicked conclusion dawned:

  ‘Someone has followed us,’ I cried, ‘Erasing the marks I made. I know not which way… and what of the one who pursues us? Where is the devil? God save us! What can be done now? We be lost!’ My head spun; a flood of despair and dizziness nigh knocked me to the ground as if a flesh and blood assailant attacked me. I wish it had been so. I might defend myself against a fist or a club but against these invisible foes, what could I do?

  ‘On your feet, cousin,’ Adam demanded, dragging at my arm. ‘Come! We’re not done for yet.’ He and Thaddeus pulled me upright, though neither man looked much better than I felt. Sweat ran from Adam’s face and his skin looked an odd hue in the ever-diminishing torchlight.

  ‘We need to get out before the torches give up.’ Thaddeus took a wheezing breath and was next to stumble. It needed all our strength to get him to stand. We were unsteady, staggering against one another like vintners who had garbled their own wares to excess.

  ‘We must have taken a wrong turn,’ I gasped. ‘So no crosses… if we keep going… upon an upward slope… we must reach the streets… once more.’ I prayed my befuddled mind was making sense enough to get us out of this accursed place. Else we would die, cursed, down here.

  Quite how we succeeded in reaching a barrier of splintered planks and managed to break out, into God’s own precious daylight, I know not. We threw our fading torches aside, although I saw mine now flared up anew.

  Thaddeus fell to his knees, casting up the contents of his belly. Adam lay sprawled flat upon the dirt, gasping like a landed trout, whilst for me the skies revolved and I could not decide which way was up or down. What a trio we were. Fortunately, none were there observing us in our privy hell. Feeling weak and poorly as we did, I expected we must appear parchment-pale, yet the contrary proved true: Adam was rosy-cheeked as a rouged strumpet and the bailiff’s face was the hue of a ripe, Kentish cherry. I supposed that I likely looked the same – odd though it was.

  Gradually, the world righted itself. Adam and Thaddeus recovered themselves, regained their usual complexions and my wits cleared.

  ‘This cannot be the entrance where we went in,’ I said. ‘No hovel… no Gawain… and see the Tower? ’Tis much closer here. Do you know where we be, Thaddeus? I do not recognise this place.’

  Thaddeus wiped his soiled lips upon his sleeve and looked around.

  ‘This could be St Katherine’s Lane, off East Smithfield.’ He pointed to a church tower to our right hand. ‘That looks to be the tower of St Mary Grace’s Abbey, so, behind us…’ He turned around, shielding his eyes from the sun, ‘That would be St Katherine’s Hospital… aye, and you can just glimpse the sparkle of the river beyond, through that stand of elm trees. See?’

  ‘I believe you be correct, my friend. May our Lord Christ be thanked for His great mercy.’

  Adam and Thaddeus both crossed themselves and added their ‘Amens’ to my prayer of thanksgiving.

  ‘Well, that was a wretched and utter waste of our time, wasn’t it? I propose we find the nearest decent tavern and find consolation in a gallon jug of best ale.’ Adam brightened at the prospect.

  ‘Not until I find poor Gawain. He must be fretting for us by now.’

  ‘I doubt that. Likely he’s already found a good dinner somewhere or other, filched a pig’s trotter from a cookshop or a juicy bone from a butcher’s place. Whatever his case, he’s no doubt feeling better than we are. I’m never going into such a hell-hole again, Seb. You were right about that. If ever I’m foolish enough to suggest it, cousin, remind me how we fared this time.’

  ‘Aye,’ Thaddeus agreed. ‘If any murderers, counterfeiters, rascals and misfits are lying low in there, they’re welcome to it. I don’t care if they escape justice; I’m not the one to fetch them out. I’ll resign as bailiff if the mayor expects me to venture in after them ever again. And God curse the old hag who told us of those tunnels in the first place. I shouldn’t be surprised to learn she’s a witch, in league with Lucifer’s hordes. You said it was the case, Seb, that she had a face covered with warts. Are they not the devil’s marks?’ He made the sign of the Cross – again.

  ‘Mistress Alder be a washerwoman, not a witch. You saw her at Mallard’s Court yourself, Thaddeus, and she admitted to knowing naught of what was in those tunnels. Do not blame her.’

  ‘Perhaps I should arrest her,’ Thaddeus suggested.

  ‘’Tis not her fault that we nigh came to grief, my friend.’

  ‘No? Mayhap, I’ll leave her be, unhindered, for now. If she is a witch…’

  ‘Let sleeping dogs lie,’ Adam said. ‘A wise decision. Now, what about that ale? I’m parched.’

  ‘Speaking of dogs: I shall search out Gawain first; then join you after,’ I said. ‘If I may find him…’

  ‘We’ll be in the Green Dragon Inn in the Minories,’ Thaddeus said, familiar with London’s streets through his duties as city bailiff. ‘’Tis the nearest I know that serves a goodly brew. Food’s not bad either and I’m hungry. It must be nigh suppertime.’

  ‘Aye, I know the place,’ I said. ‘I painted the signboard for it not so long since.’

  As I left them to go in search of Gawain, a thunderbolt split the air and the first heavy raindrops landed like stones.

  Chapter 18

  Friday eve

  The Green Dragon Inn, The Minories

  The rain pelted down, li
ghtning lit up the sky and thunder growled. I had to drag poor Gawain along all unwilling and whimpering with fear of the storm. The Green Dragon Inn was crowded as every person with the least sense sought shelter. Little wonder that the place was thronged but Adam and Thaddeus had reserved a place for me at their board.

  Gawain and I arrived, drenched and dripping like Monday’s washing straight out the tub.

  ‘You found him then,’ Adam said, giving Gawain a piece of his cheese to cheer the creature after his soaking and divert his thoughts from the claps of thunder.

  ‘Aye. I found him with little trouble, awaiting where we left him, at the other entrance, which was not so far from where we came out. I wonder how many other ways there may be into those tunnels for, clearly, neither be the entrance Mistress Alder described.’ Having shaken off as much rain from my cap, hair and jerkin, I sat on the bench beside Adam, accepting gratefully the ale and platter he passed me.

  ‘I’m not convinced the warty old witch told you true anyhow,’ Thaddeus said. ‘I saw her at Mallard’s Court and didn’t like the look of her. She’s not to be trusted. I doubt this Hamo ever had a forge anywhere near where she sent us. Reckon she put a curse on us too.’

  ‘Of course she did not, my friend. Mistress Alder be a most respectable woman.’

  ‘Her legion warts say otherwise.’

  ‘She cannot help those.’ I took a bite of cold mutton, wrapped in bread with a slice of onion, relishing the savoury taste.

  ‘And if she didn’t put a curse on us, why did we fall ill of a sudden, all three of us? Answer me that, Seb.’

  ‘Hey, move away,’ Adam said, giving me a shove. ‘You’re making a puddle where you sit, cousin, and now it’s soaking into my breeches. I’ll look as though I’ve pissed myself when I stand.’

  ‘Apologies,’ I mumbled through a mouthful of food. I used my napkin to mop up the worst of the water off the bench. He should be thankful to have only a wet backside when I was soaked to the skin from head to foot, my soggy clothes clinging to me unpleasantly.