The Relic Murders (10 page)

I nodded wisely. Now was not the time to mention his drinking and his lechery.

'If you hold the Orb of Charlemagne,' I volunteered rashly, 'perhaps God will grant your request.'

The Beast's mood changed abruptly. He wiped the tears from his face, got up and strode towards me. He grasped me by the hair, pulling back my head, his face only a few inches from mine, so that I could smell the rottenness of his blackening teeth.

Henry always drenched himself in perfume. If his mouth didn't smell, that suppurating ulcer on his leg invariably did.

'The Orb of Charlemagne!' Henry hissed. 'The Orb of Charlemagne! You'll get it back for me, won't you, Roger boy?' He breathed in deeply. 'You've received a pardon but that's not the end of the matter,' he hissed. 'In a few weeks' time Captain Buncel is taking my ship the
Peppercorn
down the west coast of Africa. He's looking for officers. If you don't re-take the Orb, it's the
Peppercorn
for you, my lad!'

Henry returned to his chair and sat there moodily.

'Lord Egremont is waiting outside,' Wolsey smoothly intervened. 'With Sir Thomas Kempe.'

'Let him wait!' the King snarled.

Suddenly, behind us we heard a crash and a bark which sounded as deep as a bell. The hair on the nape of my neck curled in fear; Henry sensed this and smiled.

'Gifts, Roger, from his Excellency the Emperor. There are two of them: massive dogs used to hunt bears. I call them Castor and Pollux.'

I nodded but my stomach was already beginning to clench. Wolsey, too, stiffened: he knew the King's sick mind and the way he loved to play evil games with me.

'They are both males,' Henry continued. "The Emperor made a mistake.' He sniggered behind his hand. 'I'd like to give one away. Now tell me, Roger, shall we play a game with them?'

I stared back in horror. I knew the Great Beast's games. The last one had me running for my life through Windsor forest pursued by Henry, his courtiers and a pack of hunting dogs. On another occasion I'd nearly been drowned in mud and had my genitals knocked off.

'I have to leave now,' Henry said. 'Matters of state.'

Oh aye, I thought - plunging amongst silken petticoats, more like it! We had arrived at Eltham the previous evening and been given a chamber. Dearest Uncle had informed us that the Queen and her ladies were not present as the King was intent on a week of pleasure. I had seen some of his pleasures! Young, dainty ladies, Henry's whores - so much for his affairs of state!

The King rose to his feet and stretched his great frame until the muscles cracked.

'I was given a riddle, Shallot. A riddle to solve but I don't have the time! Affairs of state.'

'Yes, your Grace?' I asked tremblingly.

Henry closed his eyes.

Oh, the bastard loved to bait me!

'A man has to take a fox, a chicken and a bowl of grain across the Thames. His boat can only take the man and the fox or the man and the chicken or the man and the bowl of grain at any one time. If he takes the grain, the fox will eat the chicken. If he takes the fox, the chicken will eat the grain. How does he get all three
across?'

Henry took a sweetmeat from a bowl on the table beside him then wandered across to wipe his fingers on my hair.

'Now, if you can't solve it, Roger,' he declared, 'you'll have to be punished. But if you can -' he pushed my head back and glared down at me '- you'll win a prize. Now, let that be a warning.' His voice fell to a whisper. 'Never, never, mention my son again!'

The King swept out of the room. We sat in silence. From the door behind me I could hear those bloody dogs still scrabbling and growling.

'The King is vexed,' Wolsey declared. He breathed in noisily through his fleshy nose and glanced pityingly at me. 'Shallot, if you have a brain in your head, I would advise you to solve that riddle.' He clapped his hands. 'But enough is enough, we have business in hand. Doctor Agrippa, bring in Theodosius, Lord of Egremont.'

I was about to ask my master if he had any possible solution to the riddle when Egremont strode into the room. The light of day did nothing to improve my judgement of him. He was the same lean-visaged, cruel-eyed man I had glimpsed in Berkeley's house. A wolf in looks and a wolf in nature: he stood, legs apart, surveying us all. A quick curl of the lip left us in no illusion as to what he thought of Benjamin and myself. Beside him Sir Thomas Kempe looked like a stick next to an oak: a small, jovial-faced man with sandy, thinning hair. He was dressed in a dark-green doublet and hose with a cloak of dark murrey, a broad leather sword-belt clasped around his waist. He kissed the Cardinal's ring and made his own blunt introductions to Benjamin and myself. Of course, we had met before but I was not taken in. A native of Yorkshire, Kempe prided himself on his directness and honesty, but only a fool believed this. Kempe's eyes betrayed his soul; dark, black and cold as marble.

Three other men had followed them in. At first I thought they were friars: their heads were shaved and they were dressed in brown gowns which fell just below the knee, with leggings of the same colour pushed into black, high-heeled riding boots. Yet they were not friars. Oh no, not these three lovelies! Leather baldrics hung from their shoulders, each had at least three dagger pouches containing throwing knives. Around their waists were thick black belts with dagger and sword pushed through loops. They didn't swagger, they moved with menace, hands pushed up the voluminous sleeves of their gowns. They bowed very low towards Wolsey, gazed curiously at Agrippa and, with a nod of their heads, acknowledged us. Egremont deliberately allowed us to study them carefully. It was the leader who fascinated me. He was broad and square-faced, with hooded eyes, a sharp, thin nose slightly broken, lips fleshy and full, slightly open as if ready to challenge whatever we said or did.

"This is Cornelius.' Egremont's voice was soft, his English was good, only the slight roll on the
‘r’
betrayed his foreign origin.

'He is a member of my entourage. A special envoy from the Emperor.'

'And leader of the Noctales?' Agrippa broke in. 'The Men of the Night.'

'Ah yes.' Egremont's face broke into a lopsided grin. 'There are so many legends about these.'

'And they are all true.' Cornelius spoke up, his gaze fastened on me as if inviting contradiction. I just swallowed hard and hoped I didn't start belching, a sign that I was highly nervous. Cornelius took a hand from his gown. I glimpsed the black diamond fixed into the ring that he wore on his little finger.

'Everything they say about us,' he declared, has voice soft, almost dreamlike, 'is true!'

(By the way, have you noticed, as I have in my long and varied life, how foreigners speak better English than we do? I blame our teachers: they all need a damn good thrashing!)

'There's no need to bring your guards to England.' Wolsey's voice was a harsh rebuke.

'I'm not here because the Lord Egremont asked me to be here,' Cornelius retorted.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Theodosius's face. Oh dear, dear, I thought, so there's division in the visitors' camp.

'I am here,' Cornelius continued, 'because His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor wants me to be here.'

I caught the German intonation. Cornelius gestured at me.

'You have your agents, my Lord Cardinal: the Emperor has his.'

And this was certainly true. Old Charles, locked away in a monastery watching his clocks, whilst his Noctales, the Men of the Night, watched his subjects. Brown-coated gnats, the Noctales swarmed over the empire listening at keyholes, collecting scraps of information. That pious fool Philip II inherited them: not a donkey farts in Spain that they don't know about. Later in my life, I had the pleasure of meeting the Noctales in the dungeons of the Escorial palace. They had an original way of making you talk; not for them the clumsy, red-hot pincers of the Inquisition. How would you like to spend a night in a pitch-black room, knowing that, somewhere in the darkness, two poisonous snakes waited to pounce?

'Now, now.' Kempe walked towards Wolsey. 'My Lord Cardinal.'

I caught a hint of arrogance in Kempe's voice and, from that moment, I knew his Satanic eminence was beginning to slip down the greasy pole of preferment.

'My Lord Cardinal.' Kempe declared. 'Matters have now moved apace. Lord Egremont wishes to talk about the transfer of the Orb of Charlemagne and view once more Malevel Manor.'

'Agreed, agreed,' Wolsey murmured, fingering the silver pectoral cross. 'Lord Egremont, my nephew Master Benjamin Daunbey and his servant Roger Shallot will accompany you. They are my personal guarantee, as well as the King's, that the Orb will be transferred safely into your hands.'

'In which case,' Egremont replied icily, 'I shall remember that. On your lives -' he pointed at Benjamin and me '- lies the security of my master's precious relic'

'Aye,' Benjamin replied. 'And on yours too, Lord Egremont.'

Chapter 5

Ah well, on that pleasant note we all left Eltham: Egremont, Kempe, the Noctales, Doctor Agrippa and his lovely group of cutthroats who served as guards and outriders. We forded the Thames and made our way across the fields past the Priory of St John of Jerusalem. We kept well away from the crowds, though we had to stop at a crossroads near Leather Lane, where they were burying two suicides beneath the gibbet, small stakes having been driven through their hearts. Because of the carts, wheelbarrows and crowds thronging about, we had to wait a while and entertained ourselves by watching the mummers, fire-eaters and sword-swallowers: all those golden boys and girls from the twilight of the city who used such occasions to earn a pretty penny as well as pick a purse. Uneasy, still wracked by anger over what had happened to me in Newgate, I was alarmed at Henry's implied threats, not to mention that bloody riddle. I sat fidgeting. Now and again I would look at the faces around me and it was then I glimpsed him. Someone was stalking us through the crowd! A man dressed like a tinker, with a leather apron about his waist and a battered hat pulled well over his face. He turned and I glimpsed the dog-like features of Cerberus, Lord Charon's henchman. My hand dropped to my dagger but the crowd swirled and, when I looked again, the villain had vanished.

We rode on. Cornelius pushed his horse alongside mine. 'You seem lost in thought, Master Shallot?' Despite his appearance the tone was friendly. 'I've been set a riddle by the King,' I retorted, glaring over my shoulder at Agrippa. 'And I have to resolve it!' 'What riddle?' Cornelius asked.

I told him about the bloody fox, the damn chicken and the pathetic bowl of grain, not to mention getting them across the sodding Thames.

'I am a student from Innsbruck,' Cornelius offered. 'In my days as a clerk I was a master riddler.' He scratched his chin.

'Thank you for your offer of help,' I replied, glancing maliciously at Agrippa.

‘I
cannot help you, Master Shallot,' the good Doctor declared. 'Oh, and before I forget, the King left a message: you are to have resolved the riddle before we return to Eltham.'

If I hadn't had my feet firmly in the stirrups, I would have fallen off my horse. Benjamin leaned over, his long face creased in concern.

'I'm trying to help as well, Roger,' he declared. 'It's really a mathematical problem. There's a very easy solution but, for the life of me, I can't think of it.'

With such supportive words ringing in my ears, we left the highway and followed a rutted track leading to the manor of Malevel. Oh, it was a glorious day! The harvesters were busy working under a warm sun, blue skies and fleecy clouds. It was a perfect day to be in England with a tinge of autumn faint in the air and the fields rich with the promise of a golden harvest. Except for me, poor Shallot: guarding relics, being pursued by Lord Charon and his ilk and riding through the lanes surrounded by some of the most sinister men in Europe. Oh, pity me!

We reached Malevel early in the afternoon. I must give you a careful description of that sombre place. Malevel was built like a square, three storeys high, not from wood and plaster, but of dark-grey ragstone: there were windows on each storey but these were narrow and shuttered. The roof was of red slate, and two chimneys at either end twisted like snakes up into the sky. I could see why it had been chosen: it was a fortified house, probably used by the Crown to detain prisoners well away from the eyes of the city or as a place for the king to meet one of his whores or someone else's wife. Behind the manor was a cobbled yard with stables and out-houses. On either side of it was a narrow garden and, in front, two broad patches of grass divided by a pebble path which swept up to the main entrance. The back door, or postern gate, was small and narrow. The front door, however, was huge: thick blackened timber hung on steel hinges and was reinforced with iron studs. The manor itself was guarded by a high curtain wall built of the same sombre ragstone, at least twelve feet high with spikes on the top. There were no other entrances except under a dark, cavernous gatehouse.