[Roger the Chapman 05] - Eve of Saint Hyacinth (21 page)

Long before their arrival at Baynard's Castle, Timothy Plummer and I had received instructions from the duke, conveyed urgently and secretly to us by his secretary, John Kendall. Nothing must be revealed of any known plan to assassinate him; my pursuit of Chanticleer had been simply because I saw a man drawing a dagger from its sheath and, with so many of the high and the mighty gathered beneath one roof, had feared for their safety and acted accordingly.

We had both been careful to obey these commands to the letter, but it had not prevented the vials of Duke Richard's wrath being emptied upon our heads. I had never seen him angry before and at first was inclined to be cowed. But after a minute or two my own anger rose at the unreasonableness of his upbraiding.

'My lord,' I said, when he finally paused for breath, 'these reproaches are unjust!' I heard Timothy give a stifled gasp, but took no notice. Raising my head, I looked the duke straight in the eyes. I felt my jawline harden. 'You accuse me of acting in a bull-like manner; of attracting everyone's attention. What then would Your Grace have had me do? Anything less than what I did and you would most likely have been dead before I could have reached you.'

'And the murderer caught! He could never have hoped to escape in those circumstances.'

l gave an exasperated sigh, which again brought a sharp intake of breath from Timothy. Once more, I ignored it.

'We can't know that, my lord. He must have thought it worth the risk, hoping to get away in the general confusion. But, in any case, he would have achieved his purpose - and that of his masters, whoever they may be.' I had already been so bold, that I decided I could lose nothing by being even bolder. 'Are you so tired of life, Your Grace, that you would wish to lay down your life in order to trap a murderer? I think not.'

There was silence for several seconds. Timothy and I were closeted with the duke in his private chamber and outside the narrow window the first flush of another warm and sunny July day was gilding the rosy darkness. Had I gone too far? Was I to be ordered a beating? My services dispensed with? And I realized with surprise that I no longer wished to be quit of this tiresome problem until it was resolved, and that, satisfactorily. Two men were now dead, both of a knife wound through the heart, and one of them an innocent bystander.

The duke's face was suddenly transformed by his sad, sweet smile. His body, still in its evening's finery, slumped against the cushions of his chair. 'Thank you, chapman. You do well to take me to task. I am in the wrong, I freely admit it. But for your prompt action tonight I might well have been killed.' He made an apologetic movement of his hands and the candlelight coruscated across the many jewelled rings he wore. 'I'm tired and apprehensive, as any man facing the unknown must be. And war is always the unknown. Furthermore, it entails a man leaving his wife and children and everything that he holds most dear.' He pulled himself together with a visible effort and straightened his shoulders. 'But the people have put their trust in us. They have parted with more of their gold and more of their young men than ever before. It is up to us now, the princes of this realm, that we do not fail them. That we give them the glorious victories that they look for, no matter at what cost to ourselves.' He sighed, then continued, 'Timothy, let me know immediately if your inquiries bear any fruit. But mark you, it is not to be shared with the sheriff's men, who will undoubtedly be snuffling around amongst us until we embark on Tuesday.' He nodded dismissal.

I lingered for a moment longer. 'Your Grace, are you absolutely sure that you know of no reason why your enemies should wish to kill you?'

The duke shrugged, the skin beneath his eyes looking bruised and heavy with anxiety and lack of sleep. 'All men of power have enemies,' he answered quietly, adding wryly, 'Which is why we set our spies about one another.

Each of us needs to know what the others are doing and even thinking. And I could conjure up half a dozen reasons, I suppose, why my death might benefit certain persons. But in answer to your question, no! I know of no one good reason why, at this particular season, anyone should be anxious to encompass my death. And now–' he dragged himself to his feet, fatigue making him appear pale and strained '–we must get ourselves to bed for what remains of the night.'

Chapter Fourteen

An outward calm pervaded Baynard's Castle after the dramatic events of the previous evening. All members of the duke's and his mother's households had been bidden to attend Mass without fail that morning in order to pray for the repose of the young mummer's soul. But beneath the surface everyone was agog with feverish speculation and rumours of a plot to kill Duke Richard ran like wildfire throughout the building. Little knots of people huddled together in every corner, drifting apart whenever the eye of Authority was bent upon them, but regrouping again as soon as it was safe to do so.

It had not surprised me to be summoned to a meeting with Timothy Plummer and Lionel Arrowsmith in the tower room where we had first met on Tuesday night. The latter, still encumbered by sling and crutch, looked ashen-faced, blear-eyed and half-dead from fatigue. Timothy on the other hand was spryer than usual, relieved that the matter was now out in the open.

'I always thought it better that the plot should be made public,' he said. 'At least now there will be others besides ourselves keeping a watch over the duke to ensure his safety.'

'If he lets them,' Lionel grunted. 'He's already putting it about that it was just some madman who had somehow got past the castle guards and who is therefore unlikely to disturb his peace again. All talk of a conspiracy against his life is to be strictly discouraged. I have my orders and so have you. He is relying on the fact that we quit London for Dover at dawn tomorrow to give another direction to people's thoughts.'

'Dawn tomorrow?' I echoed hollowly.

Timothy nodded. 'Aye. We told you! The king and his brothers embark on the first favourable tide a day or so from now to join the rest of the army at Calais.'
 

'Yes. Of course. I had forgotten it was so soon. And it's certain we go with the duke?'

'You and I will most certainly be accompanying His Grace, chapman. Lal will remain here until his bones are mended. He's no use to man nor beast at present. So!' Timothy's tone became brisker. 'What conclusions may we draw from the events of yesterevening?'

With an effort, I forced myself to abandon all thoughts of the forthcoming journey to France and tried instead to answer the question. 'Geoffrey Whitelock is not our assassin. He was in my sight throughout the mumming, but I cannot vouch for the other four. Did either of you notice any one of them immediately before or during the attempt on His Grace's life?'

Timothy slowly shook his head. 'Not with any certainty, no. The hall was too crowded, and by then the smoke from the torches had made it difficult to see across the room. Lal, what about you?'

'I might have seen young Humphrey Nanfan talking to someone, but I can't be sure.' Lionel hunched his shoulders. 'Well, at least we know that Geoffrey is blameless.

But there are still at least four others who could have been wearing Chanticleer's mask instead of its rightful owner.' Anyone could have slipped from the hall before the mummers' entrance and lured one of them to that alcove.

Did none of the troupe see their fellow led away?'
 

'Apparently not.' Timothy rose and began to prowl restlessly about the room. 'They had been given one of the chambers opening off that corridor for changing into their costumes and were already masked by the time they were called upon to appear. One of them did recall that the lad playing the part of Chanticleer was tardy and had fallen behind. And he was late, it seems, joining the rest of them for their entrance into the great hall. When asked where he'd been his excuse was that he'd got lost in the maze of passageways, but being muffled by the headdress no one recognized that his voice was unfamiliar.'

'So,' I said, 'someone lay in wait, hidden by the curtain of that embrasure, seized the latecomer as he hurried to catch up with his fellows, despatched him swiftly and cleanly with a knife through the heart, put on his costume and followed the rest of the troupe downstairs.'

Timothy grunted assent and ran a hand through his thinning hair before throwing himself down once more on the window seat. 'Whoever it is is a ruthless man. He's already murdered twice in the course of trying to carry out his mission. The mummer who was killed was a slender lad, but the mask and costume would easily disguise a person's natural shape and make him appear taller than he actually is. Which means that we've very little to go on. Well,' he sighed, 'we know Geoffrey Whitelock to be innocent, but that is all.'

'Not quite all,' I said, and two heads turned swiftly towards me. 'Don't raise your hopes too high,' I begged them. 'What I am about to tell you may have no substance in it. Listen and make up your own minds.' I proceeded to give an account of the whispered conversation I had overheard, of my struggle to identify some word or phrase which might have lodged in my mind and of my final realization that one of the words uttered had been ' demain '.

'My conclusion therefore is that the conspirators were speaking French, which is why most of their talk was beyond my comprehension.'

But neither Timothy nor Lionel shared my sense of the incident's importance.

'It seems to me that you are making altogether too much of it, chapman,' Lionel said, and Timothy nodded in agreement.

'Nevertheless,' I insisted stubbornly, 'it is worth remembering that the very next day an attempt was made to murder His Grace.' I thought for a moment, then asked, 'Does either of you know where Ralph Boyse was the evening Thaddeus Morgan was murdered?'
 

Lionel flushed painfully. 'He was with Berys.' I recollected the conversation between him and Matthew Wardroper, here in this very room, and swore in frustration.
 

'You're certain of that?'

Lionel shrugged. 'Berys admitted it when I questioned her. Why,' he added bitterly, 'should she not? She was, after all, doing no wrong. She is betrothed to Ralph.'
 

'But can you trust her word?' I asked. 'Would she lie for him if he needed her to do so?'

'She might, I suppose, but it wasn't necessary. Several people saw them together during the time we were all at the Three Tuns ale-house.'

Timothy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, one hand thoughtfully stroking his chin. 'We should have considered this circumstance before. It means that Ralph could not have murdered Thaddeus Morgan. Therefore we can acquit him of being the man we want. And now I come to think more carefully on past events, there is no possibility that Ralph might even have got wind of Thaddeus's visit to me at Northampton, for the duke had granted him leave of absence the previous day to visit a sick uncle in Devon. He didn't rejoin us until almost a month later and was waiting for us here in London when we arrived from Canterbury.' Timothy, drumming with his fingers against one cheek, was silent for a moment before sitting upright again. 'I think we must now all agree that, as well as Geoffrey Whitelock, we can exonerate Ralph of being in any way concerned m this fiendish plot.'

'You're right!' Lionel spoke with an enthusiasm which seemed to me to betoken relief and I regarded him curiously, recalling other fleeting but unreadable expressions of his which I had noticed whenever Ralph's name was mentioned.

Timothy continued with satisfaction, 'I never thought the French likely to wish for Duke Richard's death, nor indeed that of any member of the king's family. Therefore we may now whittle our number down to three: Humphrey Nanfan, Stephen Hudelin and Jocelin d'Hiver. And of them, only the last speaks French.'

'But that doesn't make sense either,' Lionel objected. 'The Burgundians are our allies. They would have no reason that I can see to wish for His Grace's murder. It's far more likely to be brother Clarence or the Woodvilles.'
 

'Or neither,' I put in quietly. 'We must not overlook the fact that maybe none of these three, or indeed any of the five we began with, is our assassin.'

Timothy shook his head. 'Chapman, we are only human and cannot perform the impossible. There are limits to our powers. All we can do is try to discover the innocence or otherwise of those remaining whom we know to be spies within the household. We have between us proved that two of the five are not our assassin, so let us trust that with observation and patience we may do the same by the other three.'

'And if none of them turns out to be the murderer?'
 

Timothy grimaced. 'We must think again. But by that time the Eve of Saint Hyacinth may well have passed. And in any case,' he continued, 'I'm more sanguine than I was of being able to protect His Grace from harm. All his people are now alerted to the fact that he is in some kind of danger, however much he may attempt to throw dust in their eyes.' Lionel and I agreed with this and we were about to disperse when the chamber door was thrown open noisily and Matthew Wardroper appeared, a little out of breath and full of righteous indignation.

'I guessed I should find the three of you here,' he said reproachfully, 'when Mistress Hogan told me that Lal was meeting with Roger Chapman and Timothy Plummer.' He turned on his cousin. 'I do think you might have included me, for it's been as much my adventure as yours. Anyone would think you didn't trust me!' And the youthful face flushed with anger.