The Goldsmith's Daughter

Twenty

For several seconds there was total silence, then Miles gave an incredulous laugh, echoed nervously by Isolda. But it was Christopher who first found his voice.

‘Are you trying to tell us that Gideon committed suicide?’ he asked in a tone of cautious relief; cautious because he could not yet permit himself to believe that I was serious.

‘Oh, no,’ I answered. ‘It was an accident. The person he intended to kill was you.’

Christopher looked dazed. ‘Me? Why me?’ he demanded. ‘Are you sure this isn’t just a farrago of nonsense, Chapman?’

‘I can’t prove anything,’ I said, ‘I can only guess at what happened from the facts at my disposal. But I think what I’m about to tell you would raise considerable doubt concerning Mistress Bonifant’s guilt in the minds of any lawyer or Sheriff’s officer. Indeed, I hope that it would convince them of her innocence. And when I leave here, I shall go straight to the Duke of Gloucester and lay my conclusions before him, which he can then pass on to Mistress Shore, thus setting him free to ask his favour of her.’

‘Oh, never mind the Duke or Cousin Shore,’ Miles Babcary interrupted impatiently. ‘For goodness sake, sit down, Roger, lad — everyone sit down! — and explain matters to us.’

I noted that within a very brief space of time I had progressed from ‘Master Chapman’ to ‘Roger, lad’, and suppressed a smile. I was no longer a potential enemy, but their possible saviour.

Obeying Miles’s instructions, we all, with the exception of Meg Spendlove, seated ourselves around the table, Meg preferring to crouch over the fire to make the most of this unaccustomed source of warmth. I glanced at the circle of eager, and now friendly, faces, reflecting that I had been right not to ask for the presence of Mistress Perle or the Napiers at this gathering. Neither Miles nor any member of his household had the least suspicion that any one, let alone all, of those three had a motive for murdering Gideon, and it was kinder to let sleeping dogs lie. It was not my place to reveal the affair between Gregory Napier and Barbara Perle, and if the latter did ever become the second Mistress Babcary, the subsequent domestic upheaval was for Miles and his daughter to sort out between them.

‘Well, Roger? Well?’

Miles was growing red in the face and looked as though he might swell up and burst if he were starved of the facts for a moment longer. I cleared my throat and began.

‘Since last Friday, I’ve been in Southampton — returning late yesterday afternoon — and first I must tell you what I discovered.’ I repeated all that Mistress Bridges had told me about Gideon, his first wife and the girl called Geraldine Proudfoot. ‘So you see,’ I concluded, ‘although there is no definite proof that Gideon poisoned Marion Sybyle, I believe it to be the truth in view of what happened here last November.’

Isolda shook her head. ‘No, no! You’re wrong, Master Chapman. You must be. I lived with Gideon for over five years. He wasn’t, I freely admit, the most loving of husbands, but, then, he didn’t marry me because he loved me, I’m quite aware of that. But I can’t and won’t think that he would ever commit murder. Besides, you said his intended victim was Kit. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘It does if you were accused of the murder,’ I answered. ‘It was, I believe, a very subtle plan. But we’re going too fast. We must return to when Gideon first arrived in London.

‘He came here a disappointed man. The woman he had hoped to wed, with a view to raising himself in the world, had married someone else: he had killed his wife for nothing. But then, a year later, he met you, who — who fell in love with him.’

Isolda put her elbows on the table and cupped her chin in her hands, sending me a fierce, almost contemptuous glance.

‘We might as well be honest about it, Roger. There was no love on either side. I’m a plain woman whom men have never fancied and I was desperate to be married. Gideon knew that, just as I knew that he wanted me for the position I could bestow and the inheritance that I should one day bring him as my husband. It was a marriage of convenience for us both, but that doesn’t mean to say that we were unhappy.’

There was a pause before I continued, my voice rough with pity, ‘Your husband, I suspect, was content only until he fell in love with Mistress Eleanor. When you married, she was only a mere child of twelve, but then she grew up into. . into-’

‘A beautiful young woman,’ Isolda supplied drily, ignoring her cousin’s murmur of distress.

‘Exactly,’ I hurried on. ‘But there was a difficulty. Gideon also wanted Master Babcary’s money, and the only way he could achieve that was to ensure that Mistress Eleanor became her uncle’s sole heir. So not only you, but also Master Christopher had to be removed. What better way was there than to have you arrested, tried and executed for his murder?’

‘But would anyone believe that I wanted to do away with Kit?’ Isolda demanded to a general murmur of agreement.

‘Of course not. Gideon meant to make it seem that you had intended to poison him, but had accidentally killed your cousin instead. Before that happened, however, he had to persuade Mistress Eleanor that fate had decreed that they were eventually to be man and wife. As you and she already know, he saw a way to do that after she bought a pendant in Leadenhall market and confided to him her belief in its magical powers.’ And for the sake of Miles Babcary, his nephew and apprentice who, by the blank expression on their faces, were totally bewildered, I repeated the story of the two pendants.

‘Gideon did what?’ thundered Miles, springing to his feet. ‘He dared to enter my niece’s bedchamber, while she was sleeping! Isolda, did you know about this?’

‘No, certainly not, Father. I knew Gideon was restless and had taken to wandering around the house at night, but I thought he was ill. I had no idea that he was playing such a trick on Nell, and I’m hurt and angry that you could think otherwise.’

Miles had the grace to apologise, and resumed his seat looking shamefaced. ‘Pray continue,’ he muttered, glancing at me.

I inclined my head. ‘Gideon’s next step was to put about the story that Isolda was cuckolding him with her cousin. He told you, Master Babcary, he told his former master, Apothecary Ford, and he told Gregory Napier. There may have been others, also, to whom he talked in confidence, tavern acquaintances and the like. And as people have pointed out to me, a man doesn’t willingly admit to being a cuckold unless he is both sure of his ground and deeply shocked and hurt by his wife’s conduct. Gideon counted on this fact to command his listeners’ belief in the tale. Everyone knew that Mistress Bonifant was not really the sort of woman preferred by Master Kit’ — Christopher shifted uncomfortably on his stool — ‘but, with the exception of you, sir,’ I nodded at Miles, ‘they all accepted the truth of the story.’

I paused to clear my throat again, and a chorus of impatient voices urged me to continue. I was only too willing to oblige.

‘Having prepared the ground,’ I went on, ‘fate then played into Gideon’s hands when, at Mistress Eleanor’s birthday feast, last October, Meg mixed up the two goblets belonging to him and Master Christopher. As Mistress Bonifant once pointed out to me, the initials G.B. and C.B. look very much alike amid all that elaborate carving around the rims.’

Meg Spendlove rose like an avenging fury from where she was crouching in front of the fire.

‘I did not mix them up!’ she screamed, seizing my arm and shaking it violently.

‘Meg, behave yourself!’ Isolda exclaimed wrathfully. ‘Release Master Chapman this minute! As he has so kindly reminded us, it’s very easy to confuse those two sets of initials.’

‘But I didn’t!’

‘Wait,’ I said, removing Meg’s hand from my sleeve and holding it soothingly between both of mine. ‘She could be telling the truth, you know. Why shouldn’t Gideon have switched the goblets himself? Yes, yes! The more I think of it, the more I wonder that I didn’t consider the possibility earlier. It established in your minds a precedent for such a mistake being made.’ I heard the girl’s sharp intake of breath as she prepared to make further protest, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘No, Meg, no one’s blaming you. Master Gideon switched the cups himself, I feel almost certain of it. Go and sit down by the fire again.’ When, somewhat sullenly, she had complied, I leant forward excitedly. ‘You all said that Gideon’s explosion of anger was unusual, that, normally, he didn’t indulge himself with such displays of rage. But on the occasion of Mistress Eleanor’s birthday feast, it was necessary for him to do so in order to impress upon you all what had happened, and to ensure that you wouldn’t be surprised if the same error was repeated.’

Miles Babcary nodded, a grim expression on his face. ‘I’m beginning to understand what you’re getting at, Roger, lad.’ He sucked in his breath. ‘To think that all those years we were harbouring a cold-blooded killer in our midst and didn’t know it — a killer with such an evil, devious mind.’

‘Well, I don’t understand,’ Isolda protested defiantly. ‘You’ll have to explain matters more clearly for me, Master Chapman.’

I answered as gently as I could, ‘It’s as I said just now, Mistress. Your husband planned to poison your cousin and lay the blame on you, admitting to the Sheriff’s officer — with the greatest reluctance, I’m sure — that you must really have intended to murder him. I can only guess, but I feel as certain as it’s possible to do in the circumstances, that he would have claimed you put the poison in his cup, but that Meg had somehow muddled it up with Master Kit’s when she was helping to set the table.’

‘When, in fact,’ Christopher interrupted, also beginning to see the light, ‘it was Gideon himself who put the poison in his own goblet and then switched it with mine. That’s what he was doing after he left the shop and why he took so long to reach his bedchamber.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Something delayed him.’

‘Wait a minute!’ Miles exclaimed peremptorily, holding up a hand. ‘Aren’t you forgetting that it was Gideon who was poisoned? If he’d switched his own goblet with Kit’s, someone must have switched them back again.’

I nodded and looked across the table at the apprentice, whose cheeks had suddenly flamed with colour.

‘I think it’s time you owned up, Toby. Don’t be frightened. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in what you did. You simply thought that you were helping a friend, isn’t that so?’

All eyes swivelled in his direction. He had now grown very pale, and I repeated my assurance that he had done nothing wrong. Eventually he seemed to accept my word.

‘I came up to take a look at the table, like I told you. I know I’m not supposed to be in here when there’s company coming, but those goblets are so beautiful, real craftsman’s work, and I don’t get the chance to see them very often.’ I could guess that Miles was ready to forgive the boy anything after that paeon of praise, even if Toby admitted to murdering Gideon himself — which, in a way, he had. The apprentice went on, ‘While I was admiring everything, I remembered the awful fuss Master Bonifant had made at Mistress Nell’s birthday feast, just because Meg had mixed up the cups.’

‘And what did you do, Toby?’ I asked hurriedly, before Meg could proclaim her innocence afresh.

‘I examined the rims of all the goblets carefully, and, sure enough, I discovered that Meg had made the same mistake again. She’d given Christopher Master Bonifant’s cup and Master Bonifant Christopher’s. So I changed the two over. It was difficult to do without spilling the wine, but I managed it — and only just in time. Next moment, Master Bonifant appeared. Then the master came in with Mistress Perle and Master and Mistress Napier, followed by Christopher and Mistress Nell.’

I glanced anxiously at Meg to see how she had taken Toby’s assumption that it was her carelessness that had caused the mix-up, but she was staring at him open-mouthed, an expression of adoration on her small, pointed face. For a moment, I was at a loss to interpret it, but then I understood. Toby had cared enough for her welfare to risk getting into trouble himself, for if he had spilled the wine and ruined all Isolda’s careful table arrangements, he would probably have received a thrashing. But he had been willing to take that chance for her sake. From now on, he would be a hero in her eyes.

I turned my attention back to Toby, now basking in the approval of both Miles Babcary and Meg Spendlove, and said, more as a statement of fact than a question, ‘And that is what you were trying to tell Mistress Eleanor while she was talking to Ginèvre Napier, that you had averted another unpleasant scene between Meg and Master Bonifant.’

‘Yes.’ Toby’s tone was unusually subdued for one in such high favour. ‘I killed Master Bonifant, didn’t I?’ he asked unhappily.

‘He killed himself,’ Christopher answered warmly. ‘You saved my life, Toby, and I shan’t forget it. Next time I’m tempted to berate you for some stupidity or other, I must try to curb my tongue.’

Eleanor rose from her place and went round the table to kiss the apprentice’s cheek.

‘You have my undying gratitude, too, Toby. What would I do if I lost Kit?’

Isolda caught my eye and sighed. ‘Holy Mother preserve us,’ she muttered. ‘At this rate, the boy will soon be too big for his breeches. Roger, tell us what made you first suspect that Gideon might have accidentally poisoned himself.’

I scratched my head. ‘The idea grew on me very slowly, and it’s not easy to pinpoint one particular thing. Odd as it may seem, I found it strangely worrying that no one was trying to kill me or do me harm. I did suffer two or three false alarms, but that was all they turned out to be. It was logical to assume that if one of you was Gideon’s murderer, that person would be eager to prevent me discovering the truth. Even if you, Mistress, were the culprit, you wouldn’t want people’s suspicions confirmed. Yet nothing happened.

‘Then there was something that Mistress Perle told me. She said that after everyone had drunk her health, and while you were waiting for Mistress Bonifant to return from the kitchen with the food, Gideon was staring fixedly at Master Christopher, as though he were expecting something to happen — which, of course, he was.’

‘That’s right!’ Christopher Babcary exclaimed. ‘I remember now. His look puzzled me. Later on, however, it slipped my mind.’

I nodded and went on, ‘Mistress Perle also commented on the expression on Gideon’s face after the poison had begun to work. She said he looked outraged, as if he couldn’t really believe what was happening to him. She also thought, probably correctly as matters have turned out, that she heard him mutter the word “aconite”, but of course his lips were so stiff by that time that she couldn’t be sure. Furthermore, Mistress Perle was not the only person to mention Master Bonifant’s expression of horror — understandable, you may think, in the circumstances — but it suggested to me that he knew at once what had happened. He knew that somehow or other he had drunk from his own cup and that he would be dead within a very few moments. No one mentioned an expression of surprise or bewilderment. A small thing, perhaps, and of no significance on its own, but it added to the sum of knowledge that was slowly coming my way.

‘There was also Mistress Bonifant’s alleged infidelity with her cousin. The source of this rumour was Gideon, and only Gideon. I could find no evidence for his claim, and nothing, either, to support the idea that he might simply have hit upon the wrong man. No one could suggest anyone with whom she might have been cuckolding her husband.’

I saw Isolda wince, although I doubt if the others noticed. They were too busy pondering on all that I had just told them.

‘What made you think that the goblets might have been switched over?’ Miles Babcary asked me.

‘It was something that happened while my wife and I were at the Westminster tournament,’ I explained. ‘She changed my cup for hers while we were eating our dinner, for reasons that are too uninteresting to burden you with. Suffice it to say that the incident suddenly opened my eyes to what might really have happened on the evening of Master Bonifant’s murder. From what Mistress Eleanor had confided in me about the pendants, and Master Bonifant’s behaviour, I guessed that he had fallen in love with her and determined to make her his wife. That, in its turn, made me wonder if something similar could have happened before, with his first wife, and was the reason I decided to visit Southampton. I was well rewarded.

‘And now,’ I added, rising to my feet, ‘I must take my leave of you and go to beg an audience of Duke Richard at Crosby Place.’

They were loath to let me go and profuse in their thanks for solving the mystery, for the Babcarys, like myself, were convinced that they now held the answer.

The Duke, having listened intently to my story, was of the same opinion.

‘Well done, Roger,’ he said quietly, offering me his hand to kiss. ‘I shall make sure that Mistress Shore is in possesion of the facts before nightfall, after which-’

He broke off, declining to say more, unwilling, possibly, to raise his hopes too high. I don’t think he entertained any doubt that Jane Shore would intercede with the King on behalf of his brother George, especially in view of the favour he, Richard, would just have done her, but I do think he was beginning to have misgivings concerning Edward’s eventual clemency. There was a bitterness in his tone when he spoke of the King that I had never heard before, and deep worry lines had carved themselves into his face from nose to chin. The Richard Plantagenet I had known until then always had a lurking twinkle in his eyes, as though he could see the ridiculous side of life even while coping with its grim, and often dangerous, reality.

But the man who prowled around the great hall of Crosby Place, listening to my story, was a different creature; an animal at bay, surrounded by enemies all snapping and snarling at his heels, not knowing what the next moment would bring. I reasoned that if the King pardoned the Duke of Clarence yet again, Duke Richard would return to his normal self; the gay and gallant young man who had survived an uncertain childhood, plagued by ill health, to become the chief stay and prop of his elder brother’s throne. But if the Queen and her family persuaded the King to sign Clarence’s death warrant, then I feared for Duke Richard’s future, not so much at the Woodvilles’ hands, but as a victim of his own embittered nature.

Then, suddenly, he was smiling his usual sweet smile, and I dismissed my bleak thoughts as fancies.

‘You must forgive me, Roger, for spoiling your wife’s visit to London. How will you return to Bristol?’ he added. ‘Do you wish to retain the horse?’

I shook my head vigorously. ‘My lord, I’m happier on my own two feet. Horses and I have never seen eye to eye, and I find them uncertain beasts at the best of times. With good weather, good luck and some friendly carters, I should be home by the middle of next month.’

He laughed and again held out his hand. But this time, when I would have knelt to kiss it, he stopped me, saying, ‘Shake the hand of your friend, Roger, for you are one of the few people I count on for unquestioning loyalty. Tell me I’m not wrong.’

‘You’re not wrong, my lord,’ I promised. ‘Whatever happens, now or in the future, you may rely on my friendship.’

The weather, luck and the whole fraternity of carters were with me on that journey back to Bristol. I was home by the second week in February.

I was greeted with joy by my children, with warm and loving affection by my wife and was soundly scolded by my quondam mother-in-law. But Margaret’s original indignation and anger at my allowing Adela to return home without me had long since cooled, and her remonstrations were only half-hearted. Secretly, she was proud of my involvement with those in high places, and I had to describe over and over again my visit to Mistress Shore’s house. Adela was far more interested in the outcome of the mystery, and, once she was in possession of the facts, agreed that my conclusion was probably the correct one.

‘I’ve no doubt at all that you’re right, my love. You’re a very clever man. Now! We need fresh kindling chopped, water fetched from the well and then it’s time you were out on the road once more. We are short of money.’

So life had settled back into its normal pattern by the end of the month, when the knowledge of what had happened in London first burst upon us. As so often, information reached the castle before the town, and it was Adela’s former admirer, the Sheriff’s officer, Richard Manifold, who brought us the news.

‘Well,’ he said, seating himself at our table and accepting a mazer of ale, ‘it’s done then. The Duke of Clarence is dead; executed, presumably, but no one as yet knows how. Rumour talks of drowning in a butt of malmsey wine, but I don’t know that one can put much store by such a tale.’

I sat down slowly on the stool opposite him. ‘King Edward signed his brother’s death warrant?’ I asked incredulously.

‘Must have done.’ Richard Manifold wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘As far as I can gather from the messenger who brought the news, the sequence of events was as follows. On the seventh day of this month, the Duke of Buckingham, as Lord High Steward, passed sentence of death upon Clarence. But even at that late stage, the King hesitated for so long about signing the warrant that, on the eighteenth, the Speaker of the Commons requested that whatever was to be done, be done quickly. And on the very same day, the Duke was executed in the Tower, having first offered up his Mass penny and been shriven. After that, all’s secrecy and mystery. They say that even his mother, the old Duchess of York, doesn’t know for certain how he died. But he is dead, that’s for certain. But as for details, we’ll have to contain our souls in patience for a while longer.’

So it was done, I thought to myself. The Woodvilles had triumphed. Those three brothers who had been through so much together were now only two, and I wondered what Duke Richard was feeling. Did he fear that the Queen’s rapacious family would one day turn on him?

I grieved silently for him. He faced a lonely and very dangerous future.