The King's Evil

It was a crowded morning for Jonathan Bale. After hearing a report from the watchmen who had been on duty the previous night, he gave evidence in court regarding one case, then escorted the convicted prisoner from another and secured him in the stocks in Carter Lane. He then arbitrated in a dispute between bickering neighbours, helped to quell a tavern brawl in Knightrider Street and spent an hour taking further instructions from a Justice of the Peace. It left him little time to slip back to the site once more and institute another vain search for clues to the murder. When he returned to Addle Hill for dinner, he was tired and disappointed. His spirits were not lifted by the sight of the horse tethered outside his home.

Irritation turned to resentment when Jonathan entered the house and found Christopher Redmayne, sitting familiarly in his parlour and talking with the constable's wife. Most galling of all was the fact that Sarah seemed to like the visitor. She was chortling happily at something he had just said. Seeing her husband, she rose instantly to her feet.

'You have a visitor, Jonathan,' she said.

'So I see,' he grunted.

'Mr Redmayne has been waiting an hour or more.' She gave a farewell smile to Christopher. 'Excuse me.'

'I will, Mrs Bale. Thank you for the glass of beer.'

'It was a pleasure, sir.'

Jonathan writhed as his wife gave a faint curtsey before leaving. It endeared him even less to his unexpected caller. He sat opposite him.

'Why did you come here?' he asked inhospitably.

'It was the only way to be sure of finding you.'

'My wife should have sent out for me.'

'She was too busy talking to me,' said Christopher cheerily. 'You have a charming wife, Mr Bale. She was telling me about your sons, Oliver and Richard. I was not surprised to hear that they were named after Lord Protector Cromwell and his son. It explained a lot.'

'What can I do for you, sir?'

'Tell me what you have found out in my absence.'

'Little enough, I fear,' admitted Jonathan, 'though the surgeon confirmed my guess when he performed the autopsy. Sir Ambrose had been dead for at least twelve hours, he said, but he could not be precise about the actual time of the murder. The wound to the heart killed him but the bruises on his neck suggested an attempt to strangle him. Oh,' he recalled, 'one other interesting fact. There was blood on Sir Ambrose's hair.'

'I remember it well. A head wound?'

'No, sir. It did not belong to the deceased at all. It must have come from the man who murdered him.'

'Sir Ambrose fought back hard, then?'

'So it appears.'

'What else did the surgeon say?'

'Nothing of note. You are free to see the coroner's report.'

'Thank you, Mr Bale. I will. It will make gruesome reading but may yet release a valuable clue. Where else have your enquiries taken you?'

'Along the riverbank,' explained the other. 'Sir Ambrose was a person of some note in the mercantile community. And not a popular one at that. The merchants told me straight that they resented a man of his wealth and background forcing his way into their world. He did not belong there, they said. What they really meant is that he competed far too well against them. Sir Ambrose was a cunning trader.'

'So I have discovered.'

'He imported goods from many countries.'

'What sort of goods?'

'I have made a list for you, sir, to study at your leisure.'

'That will be very helpful.'

'What of you? When did you get back from Kent?'

'Early this morning. I spent last night at an inn then rode the final few miles to London.'

'Did you learn anything from the visit?'

'An enormous amount.'

Christopher Redmayne gave him an edited account of his journey to Priestfield Place, including a description of the arrogant behaviour of George Strype but omitting any mention of Lady Northcott's apparent indifference to her husband's death. The image of her, seated so happily in the garden with a smile on her lips, was still vivid in his mind yet he somehow felt the need to protect her from the constable's strong disapproval. What shocked Jonathan the most was the news that Sir Ambrose had kept his wife and daughter ignorant of the building of another London house.

'There should be no secrets between man and wife,' he said.

'I agree with you.'

'Marriage vows are there to be observed.'

'I raised the matter with Solomon Creech,' said Christopher wearily. 'He was the first person I called on when I returned to the city this morning. I taxed him with this deception of Sir Ambrose's. He pretended to know nothing of it.'

'Did you glean anything of value from him, sir?'

'Precious little. The man is running scared. He seemed to be looking over his shoulder all the time. I fear that we can look for no assistance from that quarter. My brother, however, has been more helpful.' He took the paper from his pocket and passed it over. 'Henry compiled a list of the main political enemies of Sir Ambrose. Do these names mean anything to you?'

Jonathan studied the list carefully then handed it back to him.

'No, sir. I do not meddle in politics. These men are strangers to me. The only name I have heard before is that of Mr George Strype.'

'Indeed?'

'He, too, trades in many commodities.'

'Politeness is not one of them.'

'They spoke his name with contempt along the wharves,' said Jonathan. 'He and Sir Ambrose were partners in some enterprises and were equally disliked by their rivals.'

'Would that dislike provide a motive for murder?'

'Possibly.'

'Then ferret away among the merchants,' suggested Christopher. 'I have a strong feeling that the murder is in some way linked to Sir Ambrose's business activities.'

'So have I, Mr Redmayne.'

'Those cellars signify something as well.'

'In what way, sir?'

'I am not yet sure. They are much larger than a house of that size would normally have. Why? What did he intend to keep there? And another thing,' concluded Christopher. 'Sir Ambrose was last seen going down into those cellars with a man who was, in all probability, the killer. Why did he take his companion there if not to show him the extent of the cellars? That man must have been a business associate of his.'

'Not any more,' sighed Jonathan.

'No, Mr Bale. His character underwent a complete change once he was below ground. He entered those cellars as a friend of Sir Ambrose and emerged from them as his killer.'

'What happened to bring about that change?' Christopher rose to his feet, eyes glistening with determination.

'When we catch the villain,' he said grimly, 'we will ask him.'