Hill of Bones (45 page)

Reluctantly, Orford allowed himself to be drawn away from the matter of the crate, and he began to relate the story of the Battle of Mount Badon. Though he did still manage to call out some advice to Malinferno: ‘Don’t concern yourself about the crate, sir. I will deal with it.’

Malinferno waved a hand at the retreating couple, and ducked his head through the tent flap. Inside, he was surprised to see the Queen, in the guise of Hattie Vaughan, entertaining none less than the mighty person of Sir Ralph St Germans. A jug of claret sat on a small table between them and, judging by the hilarity evinced by the two of them, it was far from full. They were clinking crystal goblets together as Malinferno entered. The Queen tilted her head in his direction, her black wig and pink turban with its long ostrich feather fully restored to their rightful place. Sir Ralph chortled, and drank down the claret in one gulp.

‘Madam, though I am a Whig, and would soundly whip any Radical who called for the downfall of the King, I have to say you have convinced me that the Queen . . .’ here he winked knowingly at Mrs Vaughan, ‘. . . should have my support. She has been hard done by, and deserves to be crowned alongside His Majesty. And if she were present, I would tell her that.’

The Queen giggled, and drank from her own goblet.

‘When I see her next, I will be sure to inform her of your support, Sir Ralph. Though as the trial is to take place in the Upper House, I fear it is in the Lords’ chamber where she needs help most.’

Realising her unintentional innuendo, she put her hand to her mouth and guffawed. Sir Ralph chortled all the more merrily, sounding like a babbling stream running over pebbles. He banged the flat of his hand down on the top of the crate housing the mortal remains of Guido Sacchi.

‘Now, Mrs Vaughan . . .’ once again he gave a grotesque wink, ‘. . . tell me again of the time in Italy that the Queen watched Mahomet the Turk perform that obscene dance.’

Malinferno retreated, seeing that he would get no sense from Sir Ralph concerning the meaning of the numbers in the spy’s notebook, now nestled in his coat pocket. But he need not have concerned himself with interpreting the code, for as he backed out of the tent, he felt the end of something poking in his back. He started, and a voice hissed in his ear.

‘Now, sir, return to me my notebook, or it will go ill for you.’

Thinking of the scene inside the tent, and how Powell would love to record it, Malinferno moved decisively away from the tent flap.

‘Of course you may have it back. I would have had no intention of keeping it, if you hadn’t startled us earlier.’ He took out the notebook. ‘May I have the lady’s bonnet back in exchange?’

Powell sneered, and turning, Malinferno noticed that the object stuck into his back was not a pistol as he had imagined but a small twig. He sighed at his cowardice, and defeated, handed over the book. Powell laughed.

‘The bonnet containing the three stolen plates? Perhaps I will keep it as evidence of your wrongdoing, should I need to ensure your silence on this matter.’

Malinferno cursed Doll’s light-fingeredness, conveniently forgetting his own when it came to unravelling the bindings of the mummy. Powell dropped the twig on the ground, and flicked through his notebook, ensuring no pages had been removed. Malinferno indicated the secret document.

‘Very full, and informative, your notes. May I just ask if number twenty-three is Signor Sacchi?’

‘The Queen’s latest Italian paramour?’ The spy’s disgust of the Queen’s activities was evident. ‘Yes, you are correct in your assumption. And the other one – Houghton – is number twenty-two. I have my eye on both of them. And anyone else who entered the duchess’s tent in the night.’

‘Sir Ralph St Germans, for example?

Powell coughed in embarrassment.

‘I cannot say. My commission is from Parliament, so there is a conflict of interest there. Though I am sure Sir Ralph would have tried to persuade the Queen to accept a divorce. I will tell you one thing for free. That man who I saw just now hanging on to the arm of your lady-friend was hovering round the tent in the night too. I saw him sneak inside much later than Sir Ralph when I went to use the bushes for . . . some relief. Sacchi must have deserted his post by then for I could not see him. He didn’t come out for a while, and I returned to my carriage. It had been a tiring day, and I fell asleep almost immediately.’

Malinferno felt his gorge rise. Powell meant Orford. Could he have been the murderer? If so, Doll was even now in his clutches. He looked nervously around the tented encampment. He could see neither Doll nor Daniel Orford, but spotted Lieutenant Houghton in the distance. He thanked Powell for his information, and rushed after the naval officer.

‘Lieutenant Houghton, wait a moment.’

Houghton turned around to see Malinferno running across the sward towards him, and for a moment looked as though he was going to flee. But he then stood his ground, and waited for Malinferno to catch his breath.

‘Have you seen Doll? She is with the duchess’s estates manager, Daniel Orford. A tall man, dark hair, rough clothes.’

Houghton’s eyes clouded over, and he kicked at the tufts of grass at his feet.

‘The . . . lady you were with? No, I haven’t seen her. I was looking for the fat man who Sacchi allowed into the Queen . . . Mrs Vaughan’s tent last night. I saw him there again this morning. He is a Member of Parliament, St Germans by name.’

Malinferno could have got annoyed at such people as Houghton casting doubts on the virtue of Doll Pocket by the innuendo in their voice when they mentioned her. Doll had fought hard to become who she was, using the best means at her disposal. Men like the naval lieutenant had had their way paved with family gold. He knew who he preferred to associate with. But he contained his anger.

‘Yes. Sir Ralph St Germans, and I think you will find that he and Mrs Vaughan are bosom friends by now.’

Malinferno spoke the words without thinking and then hoped they were not too literal a description of the friendship blossoming in the duchess’s tent. Houghton, though, was livid, his face turning a deep shade of purple.

‘What are you suggesting, sir? The Queen is of a trusting and friendly nature, on which some place a sinister interpretation.’

He had clearly forgotten the discreet incognito of the lady concerned, and practically foamed at the mouth as he berated Malinferno.

‘I am sure Sir Ralph’s intentions are honourable, and that he merely wishes to persuade the Queen to retire from public life. Sacchi, of course, could not see that. All he wanted to do was make money out of his association with the Queen. He took Sir Ralph’s coin, and then later I saw him talking to that man in the Tilbury gig. You should be chasing after him, if you ask me, not your lady-friend.’

Malinferno was getting more confused by the hour. The sun had risen over Solsbury Hill, and the camp was stirring. Even the hardiest sybarites had risen from their bucolic beds. And no doubt with thoughts of more comfortable conditions at home, were preparing to leave the encampment. Living alfresco had been an alluring proposition for the duchess’s guests. The reality was proving less attractive. If Malinferno didn’t resolve the murder of Guido Sacchi soon, all his suspects would be dispersed across most of the estates of the West Country, rendering his task hopeless. And there still remained the problem of disposing of the body in such a way that the Queen would not be implicated by association.

Houghton was proving useless to his investigations, and he curtly bade him good day. What mattered now was finding Doll, and the possible murderer, Daniel Orford.

Malinferno hurried hither and thither, amongst collapsing tents, as Orford’s men did the agent’s bidding. Passing one flapping structure, he sensed rather than saw something flying down towards him. He leaped to one side over a small mound on the edge of the embankment, and fell face down, momentarily dazed. He felt a hot breath on his cheek, and opening his eyes found himself staring into the dull and rather sad brown eyes of the dancing bear. Scrambling away from the tethered creature over which he had tripped, he almost fell again over a large, wooden tent pole. It was this that had crashed down just where he had been standing a moment earlier. A roughly dressed labourer emerged from the folds of the tent, his old-fashioned wig askew and his face red. He muttered an unconvincing apology, and retrieved the pole that had very nearly done for Malinferno. He, for his part, wondered if what had just happened had been other than an unfortunate accident. Was the labourer a cohort of Orford, tasked with doing his bidding, and getting rid of Malinferno? Or at least scaring him off his hunt? If so, what he was proposing to do with Doll right now?

Malinferno quickened his pace, and moved away from where other tents were being lowered, and towards the south-west corner of Solsbury Hill. He had recalled the duchess saying that Orford was an amateur antiquarian of some skill. Perhaps he had drawn Doll to where Malinferno knew, from Hawkins’ map in his pocket, the ground was peppered with treasure. His own excavation had been behind the duchess’s tent, but there were other crosses marked on the map on this part of the hill. With the oak grove to his right hand, he began to scour the flat top of the hill. But he still had no luck. So he pulled the old map from his pocket, and examined it again. There were a couple of crosses marked on the down-slope of the embankment. He ran to the edge and peered down. Just below the ridge, he saw two figures, one a woman in a cloak mighty like Doll’s. She was peering at a hole in the ground. The man was tall, and standing behind the woman. He was lifting a spade over his head. Malinferno called out as loud as he could, and scampered down the bank.

‘Orford! What are you doing?’

As he tumbled down the slope towards them, Daniel Orford and Doll Pocket looked at him bemused. Malinferno managed to stop his descent by bumping into Doll, and clutching her arm.

‘I saw . . . he was . . .’

Catching his breath, he realised that Orford had the spade slung casually over one shoulder now. Had it been like that before? He simply wasn’t sure. He took a deep breath, and forced a smile on to his face.

‘What are you doing down here, Doll?’

Doll’s eyes sparkled in that special way that told Malinferno that she had learned some new facts.

‘Daniel was showing me where he has been excavating the remains of an ancient battle. One that may have involved King Arthur.’

Orford exercised a word of caution. ‘There is no proof that the Battle of Mount Badon was fought here, or that Arthur was more than a mere legend . . .’

Doll nudged Malinferno, silently reminding him of the time they had held the bones of King Arthur in their hands.

‘We know a bit about old Arthur. Don’t we Joe?’

Malinferno quietened her with a glare. The bones – if they had been Arthur’s at all – were safely hidden away, and were causing no more trouble.

‘Miss Pocket exaggerates, Mr Orford. My speciality . . .’ Doll nudged him again. ‘. . . our speciality is ancient Egypt. A far cry from old England. But tell me, what have you found here?’

He peered into the hole in the ground, being sure to keep Orford and his spade visible in the corner of his eye. He did not want another ‘accident’ like the tent pole to occur.

‘A few things of curiosity. The frame of what might have been a mirror, and some hobnails.’

‘Hobnails?’

Malinferno wondered why old nails, which he had also found in his trench, should be of the slightest interest. Orford smiled, warming to his task.

‘Yes, hobnails. You see, the leather would have rotted away by now, but the nails used would have remained. It would indicate that Britons, influenced in their style of footwear by Romans, were indeed on this site.’

‘What about signs of battle? Broken bones and swords?’ Doll was all eagerness again with her enquiries.

In return, Malinferno thought Orford gave her a shifty look.

‘Ah, yes, well, perhaps elsewhere . . .’

‘And treasure? Have you come across any treasure?’

This was Malinferno’s question, and one that drew a sneer from Orford.

‘I am not interested in treasure hunting. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.’

He nodded curtly at Malinferno, then bowed more deeply towards Doll, who returned his courtesy. They watched him stride off up the hill, his spade still over his shoulder. Malinferno looked at Doll.

‘I thought he was going to murder you and tip you in the hole, Doll.’

‘Why would he do that? He has been the perfect gentleman.’

Malinferno did not like the way she emphasised the first word of her final sentence. Was he not a gentleman in his behaviour towards her? He pouted, and began to walk back up the hill too.

Doll laughed, and poked him in the ribs. ‘Did you manage to shift the crate?’

He shook his head, and sighed. ‘No, I got interrupted. By Powell, amongst others.’

She took his arm and pressed her body against his. ‘So, what have you found out while I was entertaining the good agent?’

Malinferno, always quick to recover from a sulk when his opinion was being sought by Doll, gave her a quick résumé of what he had learned. How Sir Ralph might have resented Sacchi’s request for money, but that the Member for Plympton Erle was now an intimate with Mrs Vaughan. If he had wished to kill Sacchi, it would have been in the open like a gentleman. He also summed up his encounter with Powell, the government spy.

‘He spoke of keeping an eye on both Sacchi and Houghton. But here is the curious thing. He was keen to implicate Orford, telling me that he saw him going into the duchess’s tent in the night. And he was at pains to say Sacchi was nowhere to be seen at the time. Yet Houghton, who I also spoke to, said he saw Powell talking to Sacchi. So we come back to his notebook and his statement that he must deal with Sacchi.’ He looked at Doll. ‘Do you think the murderer is Powell, after all?’

She pulled a face. ‘You thought it was Orford not so long ago. Now do you suspect Powell?’

‘I don’t know. The whole thing is so messy, with everyone claiming to have seen the other entering the tent. How are we going to sort this out, Doll?’