The Eve of Saint Hyacinth

Chapter Nine

‘That may be,’ I said, ‘but I doubt our murderer will strike until he’s ready. And that means until he’s certain he can do the deed and get clean away, or remain without falling under suspicion. For it’s my experience that people who are prodigal with other people’s lives are very loath to part with their own.’ I thought for a moment before asking, ‘Is there no possibility of persuading His Grace to rid his household of suspected persons? Of all those you mentioned to me last night, who are thought to be in the pay of other masters?’

‘None whatsoever!’ Timothy Plummer was adamant on that score. ‘You’ve seen and spoken to the Duke yourself and must realize how anxious he is to keep this matter quiet. A dismissal of five or six of his followers would draw everyone’s attention to the fact that something was amiss.’

‘Better that, surely,’ I urged, ‘than finding himself at the wrong end of an assassin’s dagger or drinking from a poisoned chalice!’

Timothy dragged a hand through his thinning hair. ‘Try telling that to His Grace. It may seem the sensible answer to you. It may seem the sensible answer to me. (Oh, yes! It’s certainly what I’d do if I were allowed my way.) But these Plantagenets are an obstinate, high-stomached race; and my lord would no more let himself be cowed by a threat from an enemy than he’d take a knife to his lady mother and hold it at her throat.’ Timothy glanced around, suddenly aware that we were perhaps talking too loudly and too freely. ‘Ssh! Lower your voice. Fortunately, up here it’s mostly sleeping quarters.’

‘Where does that lead?’ I asked, indicating a door in the wall behind us.

For answer, Timothy opened it and beckoned me into a small room no bigger than many a closet that I’ve seen in some great houses. Inside were two narrow pallets, on one of which the injured Lionel Arrowsmith was lying. He reared up on one elbow as we entered.

‘What–?’ he began, but Timothy, closing the door behind him, waved him to silence.

‘Better we speak in here, where no one can overhear us. Lal, I’ve much to tell you, but be patient a moment. As you see, chapman, this room has been put at the disposal of those two of His Grace’s Squires of the Body who are not on duty. The two who are sleep on truckle beds in His Grace’s chamber. You can guess that, with two households sharing the castle, arrangements tend to be somewhat cramped.’

‘The other three Squires of the Body,’ I demanded, ‘can they be trusted?’

Lionel Arrowsmith’s glance was scornful. ‘They’ve been in the service of His Grace as long as, and in two cases longer than, I have. Squires of the Body are the most carefully chosen of all a lord’s servants, whoever the master. And amongst royalty they are the scions of families who have proved their loyalty over several generations. Now, what is it that you have to tell me?’

He listened with a gathering frown as, between us, Timothy Plummer and I told him of our discovery: how the staircase immediately outside this room, which he had to descend in order to reach the Duke, showed signs of having been booby-trapped in an effort to cripple him and so prevent his meeting with Thaddeus Morgan. When we had finished he hauled himself into a sitting position and reached for his crutch.

‘The Duke must not be left alone for an instant,’ he said. ‘One of the Squires has to be with him, and alert for danger, every moment, day and night. I must see His Grace urgently. He must be persuaded to admit the other three to his confidence.’ Lionel chewed his underlip. ‘At least this proves for certain that the rumours circulating among the Brotherhood, and brought to us by Thaddeus, have foundation.’

Timothy snorted. ‘I had no lingering doubts of that once Thaddeus was murdered.’

‘But how,’ Lionel wondered, ‘does our assassin know what we know? How did he find out where Thaddeus and I were to meet yesterevening?’

Timothy jerked his head towards me. ‘Tell him, chapman!’

I repeated what I had seen the night before last at Holy Trinity Priory. ‘So,’ I finished, ‘I misdoubt me now that the man, whoever he was, was a chance interloper like myself. Rather, he was someone who had followed you from Baynard’s Castle.’

The Squire took the news as badly as I had feared he might, covering his face with his free hand and sinking into gloom.

‘But it still doesn’t explain,’ Timothy remarked, lowering himself on to the second pallet, ‘how our assassin came to know of the assignation at the Priory. You and I, Lal, have been most careful not to breathe a word to another soul, apart from the Duke and, eventually, to young Matthew. And even he knew nothing of that particular meeting.’

Lionel made no response, but there was a less than whole-hearted agreement in the way he nodded that worried me. Did he have a sneaking fear that he had let slip something to someone who, in turn, could have passed on the information which might have alerted our murderer? I decided to keep a watchful eye on Master Arrowsmith, for it was plain that he had no intention of owning to the fault and Timothy, equally plainly, was unsuspicious of his friend.

I wondered, with an inward sigh, how anyone so unsuited to the job had come to be appointed Spy-Master General for the ducal household; then recollected that my lord of Gloucester himself profoundly despised, and had a contemptuous disregard for, the intrigues and seamier undercurrents of political life. The Duke was a man of conscience who would hesitate before any but the simplest of white lies; rigid, unmalleable, as honest in all his dealings as it was possible to be in a court where dog ate dog, and which was dominated by the Queen’s conniving family; a man of stern, unyielding principles and therefore one who made bitter enemies; a man who carried the seeds of his own destruction within. For it seemed to me that if the Duke were ever to betray those principles then he was finished; a man who could neither forgive, nor live with himself.

I could say none of this aloud, however. I asked, ‘You are both perfectly certain that young Matthew Wardroper is to be trusted?’

Lionel reared his head and replied angrily, ‘He is my kinsman! Are you daring to cast aspersions on the good name of my house?’

Timothy waved him to silence. ‘That has nothing to say to the matter, Lal, and well you know it. There have been houses enough divided against themselves over the past twenty years. No, the point is, chapman, as I have already told you, that Thaddeus Morgan came to me with his story at the beginning of May, while we were resting at Northampton, on our way south from Middleham. Young Wardroper did not join us until after we had reached London from Canterbury at the beginning of June.’

This was a fact for which I could vouch. Had not Mistress Gentle, the Southampton butcher’s wife, informed me on Thursday, the eighth of June, three days before the longest day, that ‘Matthew set out for London this Monday past, to take up a position in the Duke of Gloucester’s household’?

‘And Thaddeus Morgan insisted from the start that the threat to His Grace’s life lay within his own ménage,’ Lionel corroborated icily.

‘Then clearly Master Wardroper is exonerated from all suspicion,’ I agreed. ‘Is there anyone else in the Duke’s entourage of whom you can say the same? Apart from your two good selves,’ I added on an ironic note, which seemed, however, to elude them.

‘I think you may forget the other three Squires of the Body,’ Timothy said after a judicious pause. ‘And the steward. Aside from them, it might be unwise to advance any name with total confidence, although I would stake my life on the loyalty of nearly all the Duke’s retainers.’

‘Also,’ added Lionel, ‘it would be well-nigh impossible for you, chapman, to watch every member of the household. No, you’d best concentrate on those five we mentioned yesterday.’ He looked sternly at me. ‘Can you remember their names?’

‘Refresh my memory,’ I begged, unwilling to confess that I had no recollection of any of them.

‘Very well.’ Timothy Plummer began ticking them off on his fingers. ‘Stephen Hudelin, Yeoman of the Chamber, whom we know for certain to be Lord Rivers’s man, and so a spy for all the Woodvilles. Geoffrey Whitelock, Squire of the Household, who is probably in the pay of the King. (Not that I would suspect His Highness of plotting the death of his favourite brother. The very notion is absurd. But if Whitelock is in the pay of two masters, then why not a third?) Jocelin d’Hiver, a Burgundian, another Squire of the Household, who has given us some cause to think that he could be working for Duke Charles. Humphrey Nanfan, like Hudelin a Yeoman of the Chamber, formerly in the employ of the Duke of Clarence, but who apparently deserted to our own duke after some petty quarrel with a fellow servant. (I feel he needs watching. Once or twice in the past Duke George seems to have had prior knowledge of His Grace’s plans.) And finally, Ralph Boyse, Squire of the Household, whose mother was a Frenchwoman who married one of His Grace’s Middleham tenants. Five years ago, when King Edward and my lord were forced to flee for their lives to the Burgundian court, Ralph was amongst those who accompanied Duke Richard. King Louis’s agents are everywhere, but particularly in Flanders. It might be possible that Ralph, who made little secret of his admiration for his mother’s country, was persuaded to turn his coat and spy on our royal master.’

‘Do you have any reason for thinking this is so?’ I queried.

‘I’ve no proof, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just a feeling that his sentiments underwent something of a sea change after we returned to England in that spring of 1471.’

‘In what way?’

Timothy looked nonplussed for a moment, then shrugged. ‘He was quieter, slyer, less eager to jump to the defence of all things French. At times he even went so far as to vilify them in no uncertain manner. But perhaps,’ Timothy admitted candidly, ‘it might never have occurred to me that he was trying to throw sand in our eyes had my predecessor in this job not put the idea into my head, when he resigned the office to me. “Watch Ralph Boyse,” he said, and gave me his reasons. He was a shrewd man and I respected his judgement.’

Lionel began heaving himself to his feet. I rose and offered him my arm. ‘I must go and beg an audience of the Duke,’ he panted, when at last he stood upright, disdaining my help and leaning heavily on his crutch, ‘before he leaves for Westminster.’

‘You’ll not get him to alter his mind and tell the other Squires,’ Timothy warned him. ‘He was reluctant from the first even to allow you into my confidence. It was only after much persuasion that he agreed that one of you four should know. And now that our number has been enlarged by two, he’ll be even more reluctant. However, if you’re set on trying I wish you luck, because you’ll need it. Wait, and I’ll call a page to assist you down the stairs. And keep a sharp look-out. You don’t want another accident.’

‘Which reminds me, Master Arrowsmith,’ I said, ‘before you go there’s a question I must ask you. On each occasion when you fell, who had brought the message summoning you to wait upon the Duke?’

Lionel looked astonished. ‘Why, one of the pages of course! Who else would be employed to run such errands?’

‘The same page both times?’

He furrowed his brow. ‘I can’t remember. Probably not. I shouldn’t think so.’

‘Then do you know the name of one, or either?’ And when Lionel expressed indignation that he should be expected to recollect the names of any of the numerous pages who teemed about the place like rabbits in a warren I went on, curbing my impatience, ‘But would you recognize one or both of them again?’

‘I dare say I might do that,’ he condescended.

‘Then if you do, ask who it was who gave them the messages.’

Once more Lionel expressed surprise. ‘Could it have been His Grace, do you suppose?’ he asked with heavy sarcasm.

‘It could have been,’ I replied, keeping a tight rein on my temper. ‘But if that should not be the case it would be interesting to know who did. And it would be even more interesting if it were to prove to be the same person on both occasions.’

‘Ah!’ He looked a little sheepish and his manner became a shade less abrasive. ‘I see where your reasoning is leading.’ And not before time, my fine master, I thought, but was careful to let nothing show in my face. ‘Very well,’ he continued, ‘if I recognize either lad, or discover anything of note, I’ll tell Master Plummer here and he will, in turn, pass it on to you. Because from henceforth, chapman, you are a mere Yeoman of the Chamber and it won’t do for us to be seen gossiping together. Now, Tim, will you please send for someone to assist me to the Duke? And chapman, stay out of sight until we’ve gone. Stand behind the door, where no one can see you.’

I did as I was bid and waited until a page had been summoned to assist Lionel to the Duke’s tiring chamber where, a broken treble informed us, His Grace was changing his clothes before his daily visit to his eldest brother. I waited hopefully for some exclamation of recognition on Lionel’s part, but none came. Obviously this lad was not the page who had delivered one or both of the vital messages.

When the door was shut again upon us I turned to Timothy Plummer. ‘In view of what Master Arrowsmith has just said it would also be as well if you and I are not seen too often together. It will only arouse suspicions if the protocol of the household is broken.’

Timothy nodded vigorously. ‘Just what I was about to point out myself. But we must have a means of communicating with one another. Therefore I suggest we enlist young Matthew Wardroper. He’s already in our confidence and only too anxious to be of help, and there will be nothing improper in a Yeoman of the Chamber approaching a Squire of the Household. Moreover, no eyebrows will be raised if Matt is seen in frequent conversation with Lionel, who is known to be his kinsman. So if you have anything to impart, or a message of any urgency, you will inform young Wardroper, who will tell Lionel, who will pass it on to me. I shall reverse the process to get in touch with you. Now, is that quite clear?’

‘Perfectly,’ I assured him. ‘But I have serious misgivings as to how I shall perform in my new office.’

Timothy dismissed my fears with an airy gesture of the hands. ‘Nonsense! You’ll soon learn. Just watch the other Chamber Yeomen and do as they do. And no one will expect a greenhorn to do everything right first time. Now, I’ll take you to the steward. Remember, he only knows what my lord Duke has told him, that you are being rewarded by a position in the ménage for previous services rendered to His Grace.’

I pulled down the corners of my mouth. ‘Then I shall pray that I solve this problem swiftly, not just for Duke Richard’s sake, but also for my own. The sooner I’m back on the open road again and under no man’s jurisdiction, the happier I shall be.’

Timothy laughed. ‘I’m not surprised you quit the cloister, chapman. A man who can’t abide any discipline but what he chooses for himself would never have made a monk.’ He set a hand to the door-latch. ‘By the way, your pack has been fetched from Philip Lamprey’s and has been stored for the time being in a closet near my room. However, before we go to France next Tuesday I’ll make sure it finds a more permanent resting place until you can reclaim it.’

I stared at him, suddenly uneasy. ‘Before we go to France?’ I echoed.

‘Unless, of course, you’ve resolved the mystery by then. If not, then I fear you must go with us, unless you desire to wash your hands of the matter. Which would be your right if you chose to do so.’

‘No… no.’ I shook my head slowly. I could not possibly abandon Duke Richard to his fate, as long as it might lie within my power to prevent the harm which threatened to befall him. But I had not foreseen a journey to France. Foolish of me, no doubt, for it had been repeated a number of times within my hearing that the royal brothers would cross the Channel on the fourth of July. And today was Wednesday, the twenty-eighth of June… It seemed highly improbable, however, that I should have found an answer to the riddle by then. Yet my time was limited. The Eve of Saint Hyacinth was only seven weeks distant.

‘Very well!’ Timothy sounded relieved. ‘You must be prepared to cross to France with the rest of the household. Now, follow me and I’ll take you to the steward’s apartment.’

It was the first time that I had seen at close quarters the workings of a lord’s great household or had any understanding of the vast numbers of people necessary to his welfare. The knowledge did not come all at once, and I never mastered all the intricacies, but by the end of three days I was beginning to have a rough idea of who people were and of their various functions.

The steward, who carried a white wand to signify his standing in the hierarchy, the treasurer and the comptroller were the three most important officers. After them came the Knights and Squires of the Body, companions, friends and intimates of their lord, as well as servants. The Squires of the Household, of whom Matthew Wardroper was one, rode and hunted with the Duke, waited upon him at table and provided, when necessary, entertainment, either with conversation, by playing a musical instrument or by singing. Next came the Gentlemen Ushers, whose job it was to enforce protocol, and then the Yeomen of the Chamber, which now included myself among their number, and whose duties were those explained to me by Timothy Plummer. At the bottom of the heap, pages and Grooms of the Chamber tended fires, made beds and generally kept things clean, with particular injunctions laid upon them to ensure that the rooms were free of dog droppings. I could only feel thankful that, between them, the Duke and Timothy had seen fit to raise me to a slightly more elevated station.

In addition, the royal ménage boasted cofferers and surveyors; a Doctor of Physic, a Master Surgeon, a barber and his underlings; minstrels, clerks, chaplains and chapel children; a Sergeant of Confectionery, of Ewery and Napery and a Yeoman of the Laundry; cooks, bakers, butchers, spicers and attendants of the buttery, who were supposed to know all that there was to know about wines. There were others, whose names and functions I can no longer remember, but who all played their part in keeping the Duke of Gloucester’s household running smoothly.

I was told that, in fact, fewer than half of the duke’s lesser retainers had come south with him from Middleham, but the number was daunting, none the less; particularly when I considered that, in theory at least, the would-be assassin could be any one of them. I was indebted for the information to Humphrey Nanfan, whose acquaintance I had hastened to make after I had been left with my fellow Yeomen of the Chamber. He was, I judged, a couple of years older than myself, with a mop of thick, carelessly cropped brown hair, grey eyes and, outwardly at any rate, the jollity which is generally associated with people of his build and stature. He was not really fat, just short and rounded, girth and height together giving the impression of a greater corpulence than he deserved. I soon discovered that he was the butt of the other Yeomen, who teased him unmercifully about the amount of food he ate; again undeservedly for, after observing him closely at several mealtimes, I noted that although he piled his plate high with victuals, the greater part of them went into the charity bowls for the beggars. He also gave the impression of being stupider and slower than he was and, in between bouts of good-natured clowning, would sit still and silent, forgotten temporarily by his peers, but alert and observant of everything and everyone around him. He was the man suspected by Timothy Plummer of being a spy for George of Clarence and, while I could imagine that it might very likely be the case, I could not bring myself to believe that the Duke, any more than the King, would order the killing of his own brother. And for what reason?

It was true that he and my lord of Gloucester had married sisters and had a mother-in-law in common. But cautious inquiries elicited the fact that the Countess of Warwick’s lands had already been divided between her daughters’ husbands, just as though she were dead, the Act of Settlement having been finally confirmed in Parliament only four months earlier. And the greater share of the estates had gone to the Duke of Clarence. So there was no cause on brother George’s part that I could see for resentment. Besides, why would he insist that the killing should take place before the Eve of Saint Hyacinth? There was no sensible explanation for that, and I was more than half inclined to erase Humphrey Nanfan from my list of suspects there and then. But wisdom had taught me that nothing was ever exactly as it seemed and there might well be other reasons for my lord of Clarence to harbour a grudge against his brother. It behoved me, therefore, to keep an eye out for Master Nanfan, however much I would have wagered that he was not our assassin.

The other Yeoman of the Chamber mentioned by Timothy was Stephen Hudelin, the only one of the five that he called a spy without conjecture. Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers, eldest brother of the Queen, was named his paymaster; and although this might, in itself, have been sufficient to make me take Stephen Hudelin in dislike, it was not necessary. I disliked him on sight, from the moment of our very first meeting.