The King's Evil

Seated among his cronies at the coffee house, Henry Redmayne held court. Days after the murder of Sir Ambrose Northcott, the event still continued to dominate the conversation and, as a known associate of the dead man, Henry was accorded a great deal of respect and attention. He enjoyed his moment of celebrity.

'I did warn him,' he said airily, sipping his coffee then holding the cup aloft between finger and thumb. 'Sir Ambrose had many enemies but he would go abroad without due care. I offered to be his bodyguard on many occasions but, alas, he spurned the suggestion. Would that he had not, gentlemen! My sword would have saved him. Sir Ambrose would even now be sitting here with the rest of us. I grieve for him.'

Henry gave a theatrical sigh but his grief was shortlived. When he caught sight of his brother, he quickly put down his cup and excused himself from the company. Christopher was bearing down on him with a scowl which promised a stern reprimand and Henry did not wish to receive it in front of his friends. Intercepting his brother, he guided him to an empty table in the corner of the room.

'What a pleasant surprise!' said Henry, taking a seat.

'It is more pleasant than the one I have just had,' returned Christopher, remaining on his feet. 'I come from the offices of Solomon Creech.'

'And?'

'He tells me that you are to receive a percentage of my fee.'

'The treacherous devil!'

'Is it true, Henry?'

'Sit down a moment.'

'Is it or is it not true?'

'I am saying nothing until you sit down,' said Henry, conscious that everyone was now looking at them. 'And lower your voice while you are at it, Christopher. I do not want the whole world to know my business.'

Christopher sat down. 'It seems that you did not even want your brother to know your business. This is appal- ling.'

'It is normal practice, I assure you.'

'Normal? To steal money from someone else?'

'It was earned and not stolen. Who got you that commission in the first place? Who introduced you to Sir Ambrose? Who made his younger brother sound like a new Christopher Wren?'

'You did, Henry.'

'Thank you!'

'At a price.'

'I was entitled to some reward.'

'Then why did you not ask for it?' said Christopher. 'For it would have been willingly given. I was never involved in this enterprise for the money, you know that. It was the challenge which inspired me. I worked all the hours God sends on those drawings and I was deeply grateful to you for getting me the opportunity to do so. It never crossed my mind that you were conniving behind my back.' 'It was Sir Ambrose's idea,' lied the other.

'Then why does it have the ring of Henry Redmayne to it?'

'That is a slur on my character!'

'Who put it there? In truth,' said Christopher, pulsing with rage, 'this is shabby behaviour even by your low standards. To charge your own brother! Have I ever charged you for any of the countless favours I have done in the past?'

'No, you have not.'

'Do I send you a bill each time I deceive Father on your behalf?'

'Thankfully, no.'

'It gives me no joy to dissemble. Father is a good man and he deserves honesty from his sons but how can I be honest with him when I talk about you? If he knew the true facts about your life, he would come hurrying down to London to exorcise your house.'

'Christopher!'

'And he would certainly cut off his generous allowance to you.'

'Let us leave Father out of this.'

'Why did you do it, Henry?' demanded the other.

'I told you. I felt that some reward was due to me.'

'Did you have to go behind my back to secure it?'

'I was intending to tell you in the fullness of time.'

'Stop lying!' said Christopher, banging the table. 'But for the death of Sir Ambrose, I would never have known about it.'

Henry was bitter. 'There was no need for you to learn about it now. Wait until I see that piece of excrement who calls himself a lawyer! I'll tear the wretch apart. My contract with Sir Ambrose was confidential.'

'It was an abrogation of trust between us.'

'Do not vex yourself about it so.'

'What do you expect, Henry - a round of applause?'

'Stop shouting. Everyone is staring at us.'

'Whose fault is that?' 'Look,' said the other, trying to mollify him. 'I admit that I was wrong to conceal this arrangement from you but you are an architect. Put it into perspective. It was, after all, only a very small percentage of your fee. And the damage is soon repaired.'

'Is it?'

'Of course. I will repay every penny. Will that suit?'

'No, Henry.'

'Why not?'

'Because I do not want the money,' said Christopher. 'I came here for an honest explanation and a sincere apology. Neither has come from you. Frankly, I am ashamed to call you my brother.'

'But what have I done wrong?'

'You could not begin to understand.'

'An agent is entitled to a fee.'

'A brother is entitled to fair dealing.'

'Without me, you would have had no work as an architect.'

Christopher was still fuming. 'Without me,' he said pointedly, 'you would have had nobody from whom to steal. Imagine how this news will be received at the Deanery in Gloucester.'

'You would surely not tell Father?' said Henry, going pale.

'If he asked me direct, I would not mislead him.'

'But that would be ruinous.'

'To whom?'

Henry was for once bereft of words. The thought of losing his allowance from his father and suffering a punitive sermon at the same time made him quail. Seeing how deeply hurt his brother was, he groped around for a means of deflecting Christopher's anger. An idea came to his rescue and sent his hand to his pocket. He produced a piece of paper.

'I have done as you asked,' he said with an appeasing smile. 'I made enquiries in political circles. Here is a list of six people who were the sworn enemies of Sir Ambrose.'

He handed the paper over. 'The other four names are those of his closest associates.'

'I am amazed,' confessed Christopher.

'Why?'

'You have done something useful at last.'

'Show a semblance of gratitude.'

'I am not in the mood, Henry,' said the other, glancing at the names on the list. One jumped out at him. 'George Strype?'

'He is to marry Sir Ambrose's daughter.'

'I know that. You have him down as a close associate.'

'Why, so he is,' said Henry, recovering some of his confidence. 'He was often in London with his future father- in-law. I sometimes drank coffee with the pair of them here.'

'Where else did you imbibe with them?'

'Do I detect a note of suspicion in your voice, Christopher?'

'I ask out of interest,' said his brother. 'When I went down to Kent, I had the misfortune of meeting George Strype. He was a surly gentleman, affianced to a young lady who deserves better. I would hate to hear that he is yet another denizen of your favourite brothels.'

'I am not familiar with his recreations. All I know is that he was a personal friend of Sir Ambrose Northcott and that the two of them had close business ties. George Strype is a very rich man,' he said with envy. 'He has just inherited a vast estate. In making a match between him and his daughter, Sir Ambrose was bringing off a very successful deal.'

'For whom?'

'All parties. Both men stood to gain.'

'And what of Penelope Northcott?'

'She would acquire a home, a husband and lifelong security.'

'Was she ever consulted about this successful deal?'

'Is that of any consequence?'

'Yes, Henry.'

'Why?'

'Because I pity the woman. Strype is not fit to lick her shoes.'

'Your first impressions of the fellow are very misleading,' said Henry. 'He can be quite engaging and the very fact that Sir Ambrose chose him as a son-in-law speaks volumes on his behalf. He would have weighed George Strype carefully in the balance. Of one thing I can assure you now,' he continued, straightening his periwig before adopting his accustomed pose. 'Sir Ambrose was an excellent judge of men. Why else would he choose me as a friend?'

In spite of himself, Christopher could not suppress a smile.