The Body in the Thames (3 page)

‘No, you would not,’ agreed Buckingham. He sighed, sorry not to be able to strike a blow at the Earl through his most recently
appointed gentleman usher.

‘My wig is missing,’ said Bates quietly. ‘I left it here, and it has gone. It is quite distinctive, because no one else at
Court has one that colour.’

‘I lost one, too,’ added Clarendon, fixing the thieves with a baleful eye. ‘They must have a penchant for them. Or a penchant
for the high prices such items fetch on the open market.’

‘We have stolen nothing,’ declared Kicke hotly. He pointed at Chaloner. ‘But
he
has. He—’

‘Search me,’ suggested Chaloner. ‘Then search them. That will tell you who is telling the truth.’

‘If anyone comes near me, I will cut off his hands,’ snarled Nisbett, drawing his sword when Buckingham nodded that it was
a good idea, and took a step towards him. ‘You insult us by giving credence to these slanderous lies.’

‘Put up your weapon,’ ordered Buckingham, his eyes pure ice. ‘How dare you threaten me! And your actions do nothing to convince
me of your innocence, sir. Quite the reverse, in fact. Now, I
am
going to search you, so I strongly recommend—’

‘We refuse to submit to this outrage,’ declared Kicke. He glowered haughtily at the Duke. ‘And
you
cannot make us. We are in Downing’s service, not yours, so you have no jurisdiction over us.’

‘Actually, he does,’ put in Clarendon. He was a lawyer by training, so this was the sort of thing he knew about. ‘By virtue
of his appointment as—’

Bored with the debate, Buckingham made a grab for Kicke. There was a tearing sound as stitches parted company, and Kicke bawled
his indignation. Nisbett took a threatening step towards them, but a glimmer of common sense warned him that it would be unwise
to skewer a peer of the realm. He faltered just long enough for the Earl’s soldiers to disarm him.

‘That is
my
wig,’ Kicke shouted, as the Duke brandished what he found. ‘I bought it last week.’

Bates took it from Buckingham’s hand. ‘No, it is mine. As you can see, it fits me perfectly.’

The Duke turned his attention to Nisbett, and it was not many moments before the purse was located, along with several items
of jewellery. Nisbett’s face flamed red with rage and humiliation.

‘I think we have seen enough,’ said the Earl, regarding both men contemptuously. ‘They are caught red-handed.’

‘They must be responsible for all the other thefts, too,’ said Hannah. ‘The method is the same: preying on the wealthy when
they are otherwise engaged. I am glad my husband has solved the case, because ever since these crimes started back in April,
White Hall has been full of suspicion and unpleasantness. Thank God it is over.’

‘We are innocent of those,’ began Kicke, alarmed. ‘Chaloner must have—’

‘Do not even
think
of accusing Tom,’ declared Bulteel. The secretary’s voice was unsteady: he hated pushing himself forward in such august company.
But he took a deep breath and plunged on. Chaloner was touched by his support, knowing what it cost him to make bold with
his opinions. ‘He was not in the country when these crimes began. He was in Holland.’

Buckingham puffed out his cheeks in a sigh. ‘I suppose
we had better search these villains’ homes, to see whether they have hidden their ill-gotten gains there. Meanwhile, we shall
keep them under lock and key until their fates are decided.’

‘No!’ screeched Kicke, as the soldiers laid hold of him. ‘I will kill you for this, Chaloner! I have powerful friends, and
you can expect retribution for—’

‘Enough!’ snapped Buckingham. ‘He caught you fair and square. Besides, stealing in full view of half the Court was just plain
stupid.’

Kicke’s violent objections were loud enough to interrupt Lady Castlemaine’s exhibition a second time. Petulantly, she flung
away the branch she had been using, and stamped towards the water. The King was waiting for her, and Chaloner saw the Queen
look away.

‘I think your mistress needs you,’ he whispered to Hannah.

At the Earl’s insistence, Chaloner went with Buckingham to the chambers in White Hall where Kicke and Nisbett had their lodgings.
He resented the wasted time, as he did not for a moment anticipate that they would be so foolish as to leave incriminating
evidence in the place where they lived. He had been so certain of it, in fact, that he had not bothered to look himself. Thus
he was amazed to discover that one of the rooms had been fitted with a false ceiling, and the space above it was crammed to
the gills with jewellery, coins, clothes and costly trinkets.

The Duke’s jaw dropped. ‘Good God! I would never have thought of looking up there.’

To a professional spy, it stood out like a sore thumb, and Chaloner could not imagine
not
noticing it. He stood
on a chair to retrieve the loot, passing it into the Duke’s eagerly waiting hands.

‘What made you suspect Kicke and Nisbett in the first place?’ Buckingham asked as they worked. ‘They do not strike me as especially
villainous types.’

‘No?’ asked Chaloner, surprised.

‘Well, I suppose there
is
something unpleasant about them,’ conceded the Duke. ‘They work for Downing for a start, which says nothing to commend them.’

Prudently, Chaloner did not mention that
he
had once worked for Downing, too. Downing was Envoy Extraordinary to The Hague, and had been for years, first under Cromwell,
and then the King. He had dismissed his entire staff at the Restoration, and had appointed Royalists instead, to demonstrate
his commitment to the new regime. Intelligence on the Dutch had suffered a serious setback, and was still well below par four
years later, but Downing had ‘proved’ himself loyal.

Buckingham had been inspecting a beautiful necklace, but he looked up at Chaloner when a thought occurred to him. ‘Do you
think
he
put them up to this? He is certainly unscrupulous and greedy enough.’

‘I doubt it,’ replied Chaloner. Downing
was
unscrupulous and greedy, but he was not stupid, and would know better than to embroil himself in brazen thievery.

But Buckingham narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. ‘The thefts started in April, which was when he was recalled to London to help
us negotiate with the Dutch. The timing fits.’

‘It fits because April was when he first hired Kicke and Nisbett,’ explained Chaloner. ‘He said he needed more stewards, so
he could host receptions to further the cause of peace.’

Buckingham released a sharp, mirthless bark of laughter. ‘Further the cause of peace? Downing? He is the greatest threat to
it, with his nasty innuendos and bullying manner! But it suits me. Our country is not yet at ease with itself after the civil
wars and the Commonwealth, and a foreign campaign is just what we need. It will unite us all in a common cause.’

‘Only until the first battle, which we will lose. Then there will be more trouble than ever.’

Buckingham’s expression hardened. ‘Cromwell won when
he
tackled the Dutch. Are you saying the King is less of a warrior than the Great Usurper?’

Chaloner was saying nothing of the kind, although he suspected it was true: Cromwell had been a talented general. ‘It boils
down to resources and money. The States-General have more of both.’

‘That is an unpatriotic attitude! Have you been listening to your traitorous master? Well, it does not matter, because the
doves on the Privy Council will
not
prevail. We
shall
have our war.’

‘Probably,’ acknowledged Chaloner unhappily. ‘But there is to be a convention in the Savoy Hospital next Sunday. Perhaps our
politicians will see sense there, and agree that peace—’

‘It will be a waste of time,’ predicted Buckingham. ‘Although the doves have high hopes for it. But I am not interested in
debating politics with you. I would rather you told me how you came to suspect Nisbett and Kicke.’

Chaloner was more than happy to discuss something less contentious. ‘I asked victims and witnesses to name everyone in the
vicinity when the thefts were committed. Kicke and Nisbett appeared on more lists than was innocent.’

Buckingham frowned. ‘Is that all? No wonder you held off tackling them until you caught them in the act. Hah! Here is Clarendon’s
hairpiece. Return it to him, and I shall see to the rest. Do not look dubious, man! Do you think I might help myself to the
belongings of friends and colleagues?’

Chaloner did: few courtiers had much in the way of ready cash, and were quite happy to acquire more by any means arising.
But he accepted the proffered wig and left, feeling that monitoring dishonest barons went well beyond his remit. Besides,
he had more urgent matters to attend – namely finding Hanse. Stuffing the wig in his pocket, he determined to make the most
of what remained of the day.

The following morning, heavy-eyed from lack of sleep – his enquiries had lasted well into the night, after which Hannah had
been waiting to rail at him for the unsociable hours he kept – Chaloner walked to The Strand, a bustling thoroughfare where
palaces rubbed shoulders with ramshackle shops and grimy public buildings. A number of nobles had homes there, their ownership
reflected in the buildings’ names – Essex House, Arundel House, York House, Somerset House, Bedford House. There was also
Worcester House, an untidy Tudor monstrosity rented by the Earl of Clarendon while he built himself something better in the
pretty fields around Piccadilly.

As it was Sunday, the Earl would be at home, rather than at his offices in White Hall, so Chaloner went directly there. Bulteel
was hovering in the hallway when he arrived, waiting to be told whether their master needed him that day. The secretary looked
tired, and Chaloner
was sorry Clarendon could not see the man’s weariness, and let him have a few hours to himself.

‘You did well yesterday,’ Bulteel said, smiling shyly. ‘People were beginning to think those thieves were uncatchable – that
they would plague us until no one had any valuables left.’

‘Success made them reckless,’ replied Chaloner, feeling he had done nothing particularly remarkable. ‘It was foolish to steal
in plain sight of half the Court.’

‘Yes, but they would have got away with it, if you had not been there. Do not denigrate what you did –
I
know it was cleverly done. I told the Earl so, too, but he did not listen. He never does.’

Chaloner did not reply, because Bulteel was right: the Earl rarely heeded his secretary’s opinion. It was a pity, because
Bulteel’s views were usually far more sensible than those of his master.

At that moment, the door opened and a gentleman and his servant were shown in. The gentleman was exquisitely attired in pale
blue satin, and, despite the steadily rising heat, looked cool and debonair. He held a piece of lace, which he flicked back
and forth as if swiping dust out of the way. His cheeks were powdered, and he wore a ‘face patch’ cut in the shape of a crescent
moon. Face patches were popular with ladies, but Chaloner had never seen one on a man before.

‘There you are, John, dear!’ the fellow exclaimed. He sank on to a chair, while his servant – a sober, silent fellow in brown
– fetched him a footstool. ‘I thought I would
never
find you. And the weather … well!’

Although Bulteel told everyone that he was happily married, Chaloner was party to a secret: the wife and child were an invention,
designed to make his colleagues
believe him capable of procuring them. But it had never occurred to Chaloner that his friend’s tastes might run in other directions.

‘No!’ gulped Bulteel, seeing what he was thinking. ‘This is my cousin. His name is Griffith.’

‘
Colonel
Griffith,’ corrected the man languidly. ‘Introduce me to this fine fellow, John.’

‘He is Tom,’ obliged Bulteel. ‘The Earl’s spy.’

‘No, no, no!’ cried Griffith, putting a hand across his eyes in apparent despair. ‘Have you listened to
none
of my lessons? Introduce him properly, as I have taught you.’

‘Allow me to present Mr Thomas Chaloner, gentleman usher to the Lord Chancellor,’ intoned Bulteel, blushing uncomfortably
as he did so.

‘Better,’ acknowledged Griffith. ‘Although he ranks more highly than I, so you should have presented me to him first, not
the other way around.’

‘My cousin is tutoring me in Court etiquette,’ explained Bulteel to the bemused Chaloner. ‘So I will not be so awkward when
in the company of great people. I have always admired his elegant manners, and when he arrived in the city, I invited him
to stay with me for a while to teach me his skills. By the time he has finished, wealthy patrons will be clamouring to hire
my services, and I will be popular and loved by
everyone
I meet.’

‘Oh,’ said Chaloner, thinking Griffith should have refused the challenge, because it was not one that could be won. Bulteel
had many admirable qualities, but his unprepossessing appearance and innate gaucheness meant he would never have the respect
he craved. It was cruel and unfair, and Bulteel deserved better, but it was the way White Hall worked.

‘What brings you to London, Colonel?’ he asked, changing the subject before Bulteel could ask whether he had noticed any improvement.
‘Military matters?’

‘Lord, no!’ exclaimed Griffith in distaste. ‘I am a man of business now. I buy and sell fine cloth. My martial days are over.
And I thank God for it, because I never did like the noise and dirt.’

‘Which regiment?’ asked Chaloner. An image of this foppish creature on a battlefield crept unbidden into his mind, and he
fought down a smirk.

‘Prince Rupert’s,’ replied Griffith proudly. ‘I served with Clarendon once, too, at the Battle of Edgehill. He was minding
the young princes, and I was minding Rupert’s dog. Both were sacred trusts, but especially mine. Rupert was very fond of that
beast.’

‘The Earl was delighted to meet my cousin again,’ said Bulteel, smiling fondly. Then the expression became pained. ‘Griffith
has settled nicely in my Westminster house. My wife and son are away, as you know, so there is plenty of room.’