The King's Evil

Jonathan Bale had a busy morning. It was hours before he was able to slip back to Addle Hill. Sarah was in the kitchen, slicing up vegetables with a knife before dropping the pieces into a large pot. He took off his coat. When she caught sight of it, she got up anxiously from the stool.

'There is blood on it,' she said in alarm.

'Calm down, my love.'

'Have you been wounded?'

'No, Sarah. It is not my blood. I used my coat to cover the body of a man who was stabbed to death. I did not want anyone to see him.'

'Who was he?'

'It does not matter,' he soothed, easing her back on to the stool. 'I only came back to change my coat and to warn you that I will be out for the rest of the day. Dine alone with the children. I will eat later.'

'But you must have something, Jonathan.'

'There is too much to do.'

'What exactly happened?'

'Nothing that need concern you, Sarah.'

'Is it to do with that summons from Jem Raybone?'

'Expect me when you see me.'

He gave her a kiss on the forehead. The constable never discussed his work at any length with his wife. He was keen to spare her any gory details. He also wanted to allay her fears for his own safety. Even though the population of the city had been reduced by the fire, the streets were still fraught with danger. A watchman had been badly wounded only a fortnight earlier and one of the other constables in the ward had been bludgeoned to the ground when he tried to arrest a felon. Jonathan Bale chose to keep such disturbing intelligence from Sarah. There was another reason for leaving his work at the threshold. His home was a refuge. It was the place in which he could rest from his duties and enjoy the simple pleasure of being a husband and a father.

Hanging his coat on a hook, he took down another and started to put it on. There was a knock on the door. Sarah made to rise but he gestured for her to sit down again. He adjusted his coat and went to the front door. When he opened it, his face fell.

His refuge was being invaded by Christopher Redmayne.

'Mr Datchett told me you might be here,' said the visitor.

'I am busy, sir, and have no time for idle chat.'

'There is nothing idle about what I have to say, Mr Bale.'

'Then please say it quickly and depart.'

'In brief,' said Christopher, 'we are of necessity together in this.'

'I do not follow.'

'Whether you like it or not, I am involved in this murder and have resolved to seek out the killer.'

'Leave that to others more skilled in the work.'

'No,' replied Christopher. 'It is a question of honour. Since neither my brother nor Mr Creech is prepared to do so, I will first ride off to Sir Ambrose's estate in Kent to break the news to his family. They must not be kept in ignorance.'

'That is considerate of you, sir,' remarked Jonathan.

'The visit will have a secondary purpose, Mr Bale. I will gather more information about Sir Ambrose, perhaps even uncover the names of some enemies of his. The more we know about the murder victim, the more likely we are to track down the man who stabbed him. Do you hear what I am telling you?'

'I think so. You will learn things which could be of value to me.'

'But we must strike a bargain.'

'Go on.'

'We need to clear the air,' said Christopher seriously. 'Solving this crime is all-important. You must set aside your inexplicable dislike and distrust of me. In return, I will overlook your surly manner towards me. Then, perhaps, we can pool our resources in the interests of justice.' He looked the constable in the eye. 'Is that fair?'

'Very fair, sir.'

'And you agree?'

'Up to a point.'

'We can help each other. It is the only way forward, Mr Bale.'

Jonathan weighed up the offer. His face was impassive.

'Ride off to Kent,' he said at length.

'Then we are partners in this enterprise?

'Let us see what you find out first.'