The Parliament House

Chapter Twelve

The duel was to be held in the walled garden of a private house in the Strand. Though it was not far for Christopher Redmayne to ride, he slowed his approach to a gentle trot so that he could reflect on what lay ahead. He had profound misgivings about the whole exercise. His worst fear was that Sir Julius Cheever would be mortally wounded in the duel and that the Earl of Stoneleigh would have accomplished what his hired killer had been unable to do. What exasperated Christopher was the thought that the earl would suffer little punishment beyond a reprimand from the King. It would be a case of sanctioned murder.

It was deliberate. Christopher was certain of that. The offending scene in The Royal Favourite had not simply been written to malign Sir Julius. It was there to goad him into a duel and put him at the mercy of his enemy. A good swordsman in his younger days, he had lost all of his speed and dexterity. Sir Julius was travelling to the duel in a spirit of revenge that obscured from him facts that were obvious to others. Stoneleigh was years younger than him. He was slim and lithe whereas his opponent was portly and cumbersome. Since the older man had been lured into a duel, Christopher suspected that the earl would have been practising hard for the contest with his fencing master. Sir Julius had not used a sword for ages.

The potential consequences were too hideous to contemplate. Christopher would first be answerable to Susan, a woman to whom he had pledged his honesty. Yet here he was, conspiring in something that would rob her of her one surviving parent and of any trust she still placed in Christopher. In losing the father, he would surely forfeit the daughter whom he loved. Susan would never forgive him, and there would be recriminations from the other members of the family. Earlier, he had acted as Sir Julius's bodyguard. Now he was assisting him in what might well turn out to be a suicidal encounter.

Then there was Jonathan Bale. He would be horrified that a friend whom he respected so much was implicated in what was, in fact, an illegal act. And the constable would be even more shocked to learn that Christopher condoned a duel in which one man was at such a severe disadvantage. Why spend so much time trying to hunt down the person who had ordered Sir Julius's death and then deliver him up to their prime suspect? It was indefensible. Christopher had toyed with the idea of warning Bale about the duel so that he could interrupt proceedings. He had abandoned the notion because he knew that it would only be arranged on another day at a different venue. Sir Julius would not be baulked.

Arriving at the designated house, Christopher was in a sombre mood. Sir Julius's coach reached the house shortly after him. When he stepped out, he was followed by his other second, Francis Polegate. Christopher caught the vintner's eye and saw that they shared the same reservations. Notwithstanding that, they had both agreed to participate in the event and had to fulfil their duties. Admitted to the garden, they took up their position beneath the boughs of a chestnut tree. It seemed an appropriate place for someone as prickly as Sir Julius Cheever. Christopher found himself praying that, unlike ripe horse chestnuts, the Member of Parliament would not fall.

'I'm not at all sure that this is wise, Sir Julius,' said Polegate.

'I did not ask for your advice, Francis,' said the other, 'only for your assistance. My honour is at stake here. Would you have me walk away?'

'No, but there are other ways to resolve this quarrel.'

'I agree,' said Christopher. 'What appeared on that stage was a dreadful libel. There are countless witnesses, including my own brother. Fight for your honour in a court of law.'

'That would take an eternity,' replied Sir Julius, 'and I do not see it as my mission in life to enrich squabbling lawyers. This matter can be settled within minutes.' He raised his sword. 'Here is the only lawyer that I'll employ.'

Christopher and Polegate continued to try to dissuade him from going ahead but he dismissed their entreaties with scorn. It was too late to withdraw now. Once given, a challenge could not be rescinded. All that his seconds could do was to hold their tongues and hope for a miracle. Their pessimism deepened when

Cuthbert Woodruffe, Earl of Stoneleigh, finally appeared. He had already divested himself of coat and hat. Wearing a pair of breeches and with a crimson waistcoat over his shirt, he entered the garden with a flourish and gave Sir Julius a mocking bow. He was a striking man. Tall, lean and moving with easy grace, he exuded confidence. Stoneleigh was too sharp-featured to be handsome but it was an arresting face with a hooked nose and a pair of gimlet eyes.

'Look at the fellow,' said Sir Julius. 'He's full of himself.'

'Give him the chance to make an apology,' suggested Polegate.

'He can have it engraved on his tomb, Francis.'

'There's still time to abandon this folly.'

'I'd not even consider it.'

Sir Julius turned round so that Polegate could help him off with his coat. Christopher was more interested in the people who had come into the garden with the earl. Like Sir Julius, he had brought a surgeon in case he sustained a wound but it was one of the seconds that made Christopher start. The man was wearing dark apparel and a wide-brimmed black hat pulled down over his face, but his gait was unmistakable. Incredible as it might seem, it was his brother, Henry. Christopher had never felt such a burning sense of betrayal. Knowing that Stoneleigh was under suspicion for instigating a murder, Henry was actually helping the man in his long-standing quarrel with Sir Julius Cheever. The sight of his brother sickened Christopher.

'Let's get on with it,' said Sir Julius, impatiently.

'Ready when you are,' called Stoneleigh with a grin.

'Stand back.'

Christopher and Polegate moved away so that Sir Julius could practise a few lunges in the air. The earl and his supporters gave him an ironic cheer. Christopher was relieved to see that his brother did not join in, but his outrage at Henry remained. The two men were eventually called to the mark and reminded of the strict rules that governed such a duel. They then separated and, on a signal, the bout started. Christopher glanced at his brother but Henry was still hiding beneath his hat, determined not to acknowledge him. Both of them watched the contest with interest.

Sir Julius was the first to attack, circling his man before lungeing at him. Stoneleigh parried the stroke with ease and did exactly the same when his opponent slashed wildly at him. He was in no hurry to attack, content simply to use his superior footwork and his deft control of his blade to ward off any danger. Sir Julius's lunges grew ever more desperate and he was soon starting to pant. The earl, by contrast, was fit and nimble, showing a speed of movement that belied his age. Christopher could see that he was playing with Sir Julius, wearing him down before moving in for the kill. To show that he had the upper hand, Stoneleigh suddenly feinted, went down on one knee and thrust hard. Sir Julius's waistcoat was sliced open and some of the buttons tumbled on to the grass.

There was laughter from the earl's friends but Sir Julius was not deterred and he was still strong. Breathing heavily, he continued to advance and lunge at his opponent. Christopher could hardly bear to look any more. When the earl parried a thrust and flicked his blade with precision, he drew a first spurt of blood from Sir Julius's wrist. Since it was from his sword arm, he was halted in his tracks for a few seconds, using his other hand to wipe away the blood. It was a moment when he was completely off guard but the earl did not seize his advantage. Instead, he raised his sword and stood back.

'Hold there!' cried a voice. 'Stop - in the name of the law!'

A strapping man in uniform was striding across the grass with six officers at his back. He made straight for Sir Julius, bringing the duel to an end by standing between him and the earl. The officers quickly surrounded Sir Julius and he was forced to surrender his weapon. The burly man produced a document from his pocket.

'I am James Beck, sergeant-at-arms at the Tower,' he declared, 'and I have a warrant for the arrest of Sir Julius Cheever.'

'On what charge?' asked Christopher.

'If you arrest Sir Julius,' argued Polegate, you must surely take the earl into custody as well.'

'No, sir,' said Beck.

'Both are guilty of taking part in a duel.'

'There's no mention of a duel in this warrant. Sir Julius is being arrested in compliance with a statute that was passed in reign of King Henry VII - to whit, that it is a felony for any to conspire the death of a Privy Councillor.'

'Such as myself,' said the earl, hand to his chest.

'I'll not be held on such a dubious warrant,' roared Sir Julius.

'You have no choice,' said Beck. 'Seize the prisoner.'

Before he could move, Sir Julius was grabbed by the officers and swiftly pinioned. He protested loudly but in vain. Christopher now understood why Stoneleigh had not tried to inflict a mortal wound on his opponent. The earl had obviously known that the interruption would come and that, as a Privy Councillor, he would be exempt from blame. The playwright had stage managed the whole event. Instead of killing his opponent, he was having him immured in the Tower.

'What's the punishment for this offence?' said Christopher.

'The decision lies with His Majesty,' replied Beck.

'And what is the usual sentence?'

'Death.'

Christopher saw all the fight drain out of Sir Julius. Far from wreaking his revenge on a hated enemy, he would be hauled off to face the possibility of a death penalty that was legally enforced. The earl did not need to hire another assassin. Sir Julius Cheever could be dispatched with the aid of a long-forgotten Tudor statute. Beck gave a command and the prisoner was hustled off, much to the amusement of Stoneleigh and his supporters. Things had gone exactly to plan.

Convinced that his friend was going off to certain execution, Francis Polegate was grief-stricken. Christopher was dumbstruck. The outcome could not have been worse had Sir Julius been killed in the duel. If he were sentenced to death, his family would bear the stigma forever. Christopher wondered what he could possibly say to Susan or to her sister and brother-in-law. They would hate him for what he had done. Dorothy Kitson, close friend to Sir Julius, would doubtless add her rebuke, and there would be political allies of Sir Julius to face as well. Christopher was jolted.

Then he remembered that his brother had had a significant role to play that morning and been guilty of the most blatant treachery. Christopher swung round to confront him but to no avail.

Henry Redmayne had vanished from the garden.

When he entered the brewery, Jonathan Bale found the compound of smells quite overwhelming. He could not understand how anyone could work in such a hot, fetid, oppressive atmosphere. Shown into Erasmus Howletts office, he had a partial escape from the all-pervading odour. The brewer smiled.

'One soon gets used to it,' he said.

'I'm not sure that I would, Mr Howlett.'

'What you think of as a noisome stink is really the pleasing aroma of money. I could inhale it all day.'

'Well, I could not.'

'Then it is as well you do not work in the leather trade or as a butcher, for they have to endure far worse stenches. However,' said Howlett, hands twitching throughout, 'you did not come here simply to catch a whiff of my beer.'

'No, sir. I came out of courtesy.'

'That's something in rather short supply these days.'

'Since I questioned you earlier, I thought you would like to know that the man who shot Bernard Everett has been found.'

'Congratulations, Mr Bale!'

'Unfortunately, we did not take him alive.'

He explained how they had tracked the killer to Smithfield then on to his lodging in Old Street. The brewer was fascinated to hear how they had caught up with the killer and he plied Bale with endless questions. He was particularly interested to hear of the contribution made by Christopher Redmayne.

'He sounds an enterprising young man.'

'He is, Mr Howlett.'

'And a brilliant architect, so Francis Polegate tells me.'

'Well, you've seen the shop yourself,' Bale reminded him. 'It's opposite the Saracen's Head, the tavern you visited some while ago.' 'Yes, but I only saw the building from outside. I'm told that the interior is a minor work of art. Francis was delighted with it.'

Howlett's office was on the upper level of the brewery. It was a small, cluttered room with a desk that was covered with letters, bills and documents of all sorts. In an adjoining office, clerks were at work and Bale could see them through the window that separated the two rooms. Through the main window, he could look down at the brewery itself and see the men toiling in a miasma of steam.

'I helped to design this place myself,' said Howlett, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his waistcoat. 'I made sure that my office overlooked the whole brewing process. Nobody dares to slack when I am up here.'

'I'm sure that you only employ industrious workers, sir.'

'There's no place for any other kind here. Howlett's Brewery has a reputation to maintain. We are famed for our quality.'

'Yet you do not drink the beer yourself, I hear.'

Howlett chortled. 'I see that Francis has been letting you into my little secret. I used to sample my own product in large quantities,' he said, patting his paunch, 'and I have the stomach to prove it. Wine is kinder to my anatomy in many ways.'

'But much more expensive.'

'I allow myself a few luxuries in life. What about you, Mr Bale?'

'One of my luxuries is a tankard of beer, sir.'

'Brewed right here, I hope.'

'No,' said Bale. 'My wife, Sarah, brews it at home and, though there is a smell during the process, it's nothing like as powerful as the one you have to endure. You must use stronger ingredients.'

'Stronger ingredients and greater volume. I doubt if your wife makes anything like the quantities that we produce. Well, you can see how many men I employ. We have many taverns to supply.'

'Is there any advice you could give?'

'About what?'

'How to brew good beer. I could pass it on to my wife. Sarah does her best but her beer always tastes rather weak. It's too thin.'

'Often the case with housewife brewers.'

'I hope that you don't mind me asking, Mr Howlett.'

'Not at all, not at all.'

'At the end of a long day, all that I want is a drink of beer to revive me. I just wish that it would have more body to it.'

'Every brewer has his secrets,' said Howlett, 'and I'd never disclose those to anyone. But I can tell you what the basic ingredients of our beer is and how best to brew it.'

'I'd be greatly obliged to you, sir,' said Bale, deferentially.

'Let me write them down for you.' Howlett sat down at his desk and reached for his quill pen with a trembling hand. 'Since you had the courtesy to come from Baynard's Castle ward to give me your news, the least I can do is to help you to enjoy a stronger drink.'

He began to write. Watching over his shoulder, Bale smiled. He was more than satisfied with his wife's beer and would never dare to suggest that she brewed it a different way. What he really wanted was a sample of Erasmus Howlett's handwriting. To get that, he would gladly endure the pungent reek of the brewery.

'The Tower of London!'

Susan Cheever was mortified. She spoke with a mixture of shame and horror. To have her father imprisoned in the Tower was a mark of ultimate disgrace. Even more appalling was the fact that he might pay with his life for his alleged crime. Brilliana Serle burst into tears and her husband had to comfort her. All three of them glared at Christopher Redmayne as if he were solely responsible for the grim predicament of Sir Julius Cheever. Informing the family of what had happened was a daunting task but he had forced himself to do it. As he sat opposite them in the Westminster House, Christopher felt cruel in having to impart so much pain and suffering. Susan's face was a portrait of anguish, Brilliana could barely speak and Lancelot Serle looked as if he were ready to challenge Christopher to a duel.

'You must take some of the blame for this,' he accused.

'I acknowledge that, Mr Serle,' replied Christopher.

'You should have prevented him from going through with it.'

'Once he has embarked on something, your father-in-law is not an easy man to stop. Had I refused to act as his second, he would simply have found someone else.'

'Not if you had warned us. It was your duty to do so.'

'Sir Julius had sworn me to silence. I gave him my word.'

'I seem to remember that you gave it to me once as well,' said Susan. 'You promised never to conceal from me anything that related to Father's safety. And yet you did this, Christopher.'

'Against my will.'

'That's no excuse.'

'None at all,' said Christopher, lowering his head.

'You should be in the Tower with Father,' cried Brilliana, pointing at him, 'and so should that brother of yours. He came to this house in possession of information that should have been passed on to us, and he kept it to himself.'

'No wonder Sir Julius would not let me read the newspaper yesterday,' said Serle. 'It must have contained a report of that play and its attack on him. I agree with my wife. We've been ill-served by the Redmayne family in every way.'

'That's how it appears to me as well,' said Susan, levelly.

'Between the two of you,' said Brilliana, you have delivered our father up to complete humiliation. Thanks to you and your brother, he languishes in a cell at the Tower with a possible death sentence hanging over his head. Oh!' she went on as more tears came, 'it's too horrid to contemplate.'

'Come, my dear,' said Serle, easing her to her feet. 'The shock of it is insupportable. You need to lie down.' He led the sobbing Brilliana to the door then stared at Christopher to make a final comment. 'I hope, when I return, sir, that you have left this house.'

Christopher was relieved that they had gone and grateful that they did not realise that his brother had, in fact, acted as one of the seconds for the Earl of Stoneleigh. That would have complicated the situation even more and drawn additional bile from them. It was something that Christopher would admit to nobody. Left alone with Susan, all that he could do was to gesture an apology. He could see from the coldness in her eyes that it was not accepted.

'How could you, Christopher?' she asked, quietly.

'I did my best to talk him out of it.'

'That was our duty. We are his daughters. Our task is to look after him. You are not part of the family at all.'

Her tone was ominous. She was telling Christopher that he would never be more closely linked with her family. The stab of rejection was like the thrust of a knife. He winced.

'Susan,' he said, 'please listen to me. All is not yet lost.'

She was sorrowful. 'What else is there to lose?'

'I'll hire the finest lawyer in the city to defend your father. The Earl of Stoneleigh never intended the duel to continue for long. He simply enticed Sir Julius into a trap. That will count against him in a court of law.'

'And if father is found guilty at the trial?'

'Even then, there is still hope,' he told her. 'I will appeal directly to His Majesty. I've been in a position to render him some service in the past and he has been very grateful. A plea to him will surely meet with favour.'

'Only if it is made on your behalf, Christopher.'

'What do you mean?'

'He would hardly lift a hand to help my father. His Majesty once fought at the battle of Worcester - just like the Earl of Stoneleigh. Neither will show any mercy to someone who was in the opposing army. Father is doomed.'

'You must not think that.'

'What else can I think?'

'Look,' he said, moving across to sit beside her, 'there is something you must know. Berate me all you wish but please accept that I have gone to great lengths to protect your father, and to find out who sponsored the attempts on his life.'

'You and Mr Bale have worked hard on his behalf,' she admitted.

'And not without success. We found one killer and we will find a second. More to the point, we will discover who has been paying them. Evidence so far points in the direction of the Earl of Stoneleigh.' She was startled. 'Yes, Susan, if we can prove that he is involved then Sir Julius has no case to answer. He may have attacked a Privy Councillor but the earl will lose all protection if arrested on a charge of conspiracy to murder.'

'And what chance is there of that?'

'A slim one at the moment,' he admitted, honestly, 'because he is cunning enough to cover his tracks. But we are making definite headway. Do you recall that I asked about Lewis Bircroft?'

'Yes, he used to come here often at one time.'

'He stopped doing so because he was badly beaten by a gang of ruffians. Jonathan Bale has spoken to him. At first, Mr Bircroft was too frightened to name the man who had ordered the attack but, at a second meeting, Jonathan managed to elicit that name - not in so many words, perhaps, but it was a clear identification.'

'The earl again?'

'Precisely.'

'Why can he not be arrested?'

'Because we need more evidence, Susan. And we'll get it.'

She chewed her lip in despair. 'This is a tragedy,' she said. 'It seems that the Earl of Stoneleigh will do anything to hound Father. Not content with putting a caricature of him on stage, he has now contrived to have him imprisoned in the Tower.'

'We'll get him out,' said Christopher, purposefully.

'How?'

'Wait and see. Meanwhile, think of others who need to be told the news. Sir Julius has friends in the House of Commons. This is a time when they should rally to him.'

'There's someone else who must be told.'

'Who is that?'

'Mrs Kitson,' said Susan. 'She is very fond of my father. This will cause her enormous distress.'

Orlando Golland was reading his newspaper when his sister called at the house. Seeing the disturbed state she was in, he took her into his parlour and invited her to sit down.

'Whatever is the matter, Dorothy?' he asked.

'I came to see if the rumour was true.'

'What rumour?' 'Sir Julius Cheever has been imprisoned in the Tower.'

'Never!' said Golland in surprise. 'On what possible charge?'

'I hoped that you could tell me that, Orlando.'

'This the first I've heard of it. Where did you pick up the news?'

'I was visiting my milliner,' she said, 'and I chanced upon Adele Farwell. She had heard it from her husband. According to Maurice, there was a duel between Sir Julius and Cuthbert, Earl of Stoneleigh.'

'I can guess what provoked that. I saw the report in yesterday's newspaper. One of the earl's plays, The Royal Favourite, was revived at the King's Theatre. Apparently, it contained defamatory matter about Sir Julius. He must have issued a challenge.'

'But he would stand no chance against Cuthbert.'

'Are they both locked up in the Tower?'

'No,' said Dorothy. 'Adele did not know all the details but it seems that the duel was interrupted by officers and that they had a warrant for Sir Julius's arrest.'

Golland sniffed. 'In that case, they were warned in advance.'

'It was something to do with Cuthbert being a member of the Privy Council. I was hoping that you could enlighten me.'

'I wish I could,' he said, going through a list of statutes in his mind to find the one that had been invoked. 'If he is being charged with trying to kill a Privy Councillor, it could go hard with Sir Julius. Are you not relieved now that you and he have parted?'

'We did not part,' she corrected. 'We are still friends.'

'Then I'd advise you to distance yourself from that friendship at once, Dorothy. It was an unfortunate relationship from the start. To continue it now may bring opprobrium down upon you.'

'I cannot simply desert Sir Julius.'

'You can and you must.'

'But he will marshal his defence and seek an acquittal.'

'Even if he is released,' he told her, sententiously, 'it would be foolish to allow this attachment to continue. Do you wish to be known as the intimate of a man who was lampooned in a play?'

'It would be cruel to turn my back on him, Orlando.'

'Cruelty to him, kindness to yourself - and to me.'

'Stop thinking of yourself all the time,' she said, reproachfully. 'I came in the hope of learning more details of the situation, not to listen to you telling me what to do.'

'I'm sorry,' he said with an appeasing smile, 'but one must always look at the implications of any action. Let me find out more about the case. If it has reached Maurice's ears, it will be all around the House of Commons by now. Sir Julius will not receive much commiseration from there, I fancy.'

'That's why I must offer him my sympathy.'

'No, Dorothy.'

'It's the least I can do.'

'The gesture would compromise you.'

'Sir Julius lies in the Tower, facing some awful charge. Imagine how he must feel, Orlando.' She reached a decision. 'I think that I should visit him.'

'I forbid it!' he said rising to his feet. 'That was too harsh,' he apologised, waving a hand. 'I've no right to give you any commands, Dorothy. I merely advise you - very strongly - to keep away from Sir Julius Cheever. You'll be contaminated with his crime.'

'But I'm not even sure that he committed one.'

'If a warrant was issued, there is a charge to answer.'

'Discover what it was as soon as you can.'

'I will,' he promised. 'Meanwhile, dismiss all thoughts of Sir Julius from your mind. I insist upon it. I'll not have a sister of mine entering the Tower to visit a felon.'

'Sir Julius is no felon, Orlando.'

'He is in the eyes of the law and that is all that matters.'

Susan Cheever was still trying to cope with the impact of what had happened. It was only when they were being conducted through the Tower that the full seriousness of her father's situation was borne in upon her. Everywhere she looked were high stone walls and armed guards. Feet rasping on the cobbles, they passed tower after tower, each one more sinister and threatening than the one before. She felt oppressed. Built by William the Conqueror six hundred years earlier, the Tower of London had been associated with royalty ever since. It had seen births, weddings, processions, tournaments, banquets, even a royal menagerie and it had hosted many foreign dignitaries for generations.

All that Susan could remember was that it was closely allied to death. Murders and executions had left a trail of blood behind them. Kings, queens and leading statesmen had perished there. Notorious prisoners had endured agonising tortures before being released by a merciful death sentence. The ravens that inhabited the Tower were harbingers of disaster, birds of prey that alighted greedily on every fresh grave, noisy spectators to a long succession of horrors. When she saw them, Susan felt a chill descend upon her. It was as if she were a prisoner herself, stripped of any rights or self-respect. Even on such a warm day, she began to shiver.

Her discomfort was soon intensified. Sir Julius Cheever, it transpired, was being held in an upper room in the Bloody Tower, a place with a bleak and gory history. When they climbed the stairs, Susan was glad that Lancelot Serle had volunteered to accompany her. Sensing her distress, he put out a supportive hand to help her. A guard was standing outside the room. After they had identified themselves, he took a bunch of keys from his belt and unlocked the door. Susan burst in and flung herself into her father's arms. She did not hear the door being locked behind her.

'How are you, Father?' she asked, appraising him.

He forced a smile. 'All the better for seeing you, Susan.'

'Brilliana did not feel well enough to come, Sir Julius,' said Serle. 'She sends her love and asked me to visit in her stead.'

'You are welcome, Lancelot,' said Sir Julius, shaking him warmly by the hand. 'I'm only sorry that you have to see me in this state.' He looked around. 'This is one of the rooms where Sir Walter Raleigh was kept before his execution. His wife and son lived with him. As you see, it is quite comfortable.'

It did not seem so to the visitors. The room was small and bare with oak boards that creaked whenever they were walked upon. There was a table, two chairs and a straw mattress. On the table were a Bible and some writing materials. A jug of water and a cup stood on a shelf. They did not need to be told why a large bucket had been put in a corner and covered with a piece of sacking. It was a prison cell and it degraded any person who occupied it.

'How much do you know?' said Sir Julius.

'Only what Christopher told us,' answered Susan.

'We hold him largely responsible for this,' said Serle, glancing around with disgust. 'He was the one person in a position to stop you and he failed to do so. I find that deplorable.'

'Then you do not appreciate the circumstances,' Sir Julius told him. 'Christopher had no option but to concur with my wishes. Nothing would have stopped me from issuing that challenge. I turned to him because I knew that I could trust him.'

'I thought that I could,' said Susan to herself.

'Just remember this. But for Christopher Redmayne, I would not still be alive. As to this enforced visit to the Tower, it was in no way his fault. I must take all of the blame.'

'Why is that, Father?'

'Because I should have known that Stoneleigh was too crafty to fight a duel to the death. He only agreed to face me so that I could be ensnared by some obscure piece of legislation that makes him look like a victim while showing me up as a would-be assassin.'

'Christopher had never heard of the statute,' said Serle.

'No more had I. Sir John Robinson explained it to me.'

'Who is he?'

'The Lieutenant of the Tower,' said Sir Julius. 'The law reached the statute book in the third year of the reign of King Henry VII. That would put it in 1488. In sending a challenge to the Earl of Stoneleigh, I committed a felony for I had designs on the life of a Privy Councillor. That much I admit,' he went on. 'Had we not been interrupted, I'd have cut the villain down.'

Humouring her father, Susan said nothing. She knew from Christopher's account that the earl was getting the better of the duel when it was stopped but Sir Julius would never concede that. What she wanted to hear was how they could extricate him from the Tower. Without his coat, and weighed down by anxiety, he was a sorry figure. His flashes of fighting spirit seemed incongruous in such a place.

'You do not belong in here, Father,' she said.

'The law says that I do.'

'Then we must hire someone to defend you,' said Serle.

'I'm not sure that I have any defence, Lancelot.'

'The earl maligned you in his play. A writ of libel can be issued against him. No man - aristocrat or commoner - should be allowed to get away with such vilification. Demand redress.'

'I tried to do that with my sword.'

'See him prosecuted.'

'It would never happen,' said Sir Julius, resignedly. 'Libel is a minor offence compared to the one with which I am charged. In truth, we were both liable to arrest when we took part in that duel but there is no way that Stoneleigh will be arraigned.'

'He should be,' said Susan, angrily. 'He fought with you this morning and you have witnesses to prove it. Christopher and Mr Polegate were there.'

'So was my surgeon but what are three voices against the dozen that Stoneleigh will call? He brought a whole entourage with him. They will swear that he was trying to reason with me rather than fight a duel. No, Susan,' he said. 'The earl thought it all out in advance. I was to be arrested while he goes scot-free. There's no help for it.'

'There must be.'

'I fail to see the way out.'

'Then we must rely on Christopher,' she said, surprised at the affection she felt for him again. 'He is the only person who has a means of saving you, Father, and he'll dedicate himself to doing just that. Rely on him.'

'How ever did you get hold of this?' asked Christopher Redmayne, studying the list of ingredients in one hand and comparing it with the letter he held in the other. 'The hand is a perfect match.' 'I called on Mr Howlett at his brewery,' said Jonathan Bale.

'On what pretext?'

'To tell him that we had found Mr Everett's killer. He seemed pleased that I'd taken the trouble to do so.'

'Even though he already knew of our discovery.' Christopher indicated the list. 'These are the constituent elements of beer.'

'I asked him for advice on how best to make it.'

'And you're certain that he wrote this?'

'I stood over him while he did so.'

"Well done, Jonathan. You outwitted him.'

'I had a feeling about Mr Howlett, sir,' said Bale. 'It was that visit he paid to the Saracen's Head. There was no need for him to go there. Now we know why he did it.'

'Thanks to you.'

Christopher was delighted. It was not just the handwriting that matched. The paper was identical as well. He put both examples of Erasmus Howlett's shaky calligraphy down on his desk. They were in the study of his house in Fetter Lane. Having returned there in a mood of dejection, Christopher was now almost elated.

'We have enough to make an arrest now,' said Bale.

'No, Jonathan.'

'But we have written proof that Mr Howlett instructed Dan Crothers to book a room at the tavern that day. And we also know that he's the cousin of the Earl of Stoneleigh. What more do we need?'

'Evidence that the earl wrote this other letter,' said Christopher, taking it up from the desk. 'The one that warned Crothers that Sir Julius was leaving for Cambridge. It will be much more difficult to do that. I don't think that the earl will oblige you so readily with some advice on how to make beer.'

'Then how do we get an example of his handwriting?'

Christopher thought about his brother. 'I may have the answer to that, Jonathan. Give me some time.'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne.'

The constable was so happy with what he had discovered at the brewery that Christopher did not want to deprive him of his pleasure. But it was inevitable. Bale simply had to be told about the duel and its unforeseen consequences. Knowing that his tale would be frowned upon, Christopher kept it as short as he could. Bale was astounded. He could understand why Sir Julius had reacted so violently but not why Christopher had agreed to act as a second at the duel. And he was taken aback when he heard that Sir Julius was now in the Tower.

'Had you told me,' he said, 'I could have broken up the duel.'

'That would not have prevented Sir Julius's arrest. It had already been set in train by the earl. That's why we must expose him as the villain he is, Jonathan. Only then can we apprehend Erasmus Howlett.'

'You're forgetting someone else, sir.'

'Am I?'

'The man who was hired to cut Dan Crothers's throat. In fact, you must take especial care when you go abroad in future.'

'Why?'

'Mr Howlett showed too great an interest in you,' said Bale. 'He wanted to know where you lived and why you had involved yourself in the investigation. We may both be in danger now. Since we managed to find Crothers, Mr Howlett will fear that we may one day catch up with him - as, indeed, we have done. Not that I gave him any hint of that.'

'Thank you for the warning. I take is as a good sign.'

Bale scowled. 'I'd not describe being threatened by a proven killer as a good sign.'

'It means that we have frightened Mr Howlett. And frightened men often act too precipitately. They make mistakes.' He pointed to the list of ingredients. 'There's an example.'

'We both need to take greater care, sir.'

'I certainly will,' said Christopher. 'No more duels for me.'

He laughed light-heartedly but Bale's face was impassive. When he heard the doorbell ring, the constable got to his feet immediately.

'If you have a visitor, I'll be off.'

'Stay and talk. You're the only visitor I want to see at the moment.' He heard the front door opening and the sound of voices. Christopher leapt up from his seat. 'With one exception - my brother, Henry. I'm surprised that he has the audacity to show his face.'

Moments later, Jacob appeared to say that he had shown Henry into the parlour. Taking the constable with him, Christopher charged off to challenge him. When his brother saw that Bale was there, he took a step backwards.

'Heavens!' he exclaimed. 'Is he going to arrest me?'

'If deceit and disloyalty were against the law,' said Christopher, bitterly, 'that's exactly what I would ask Jonathan to do.'

'Do not judge me too hastily.'

'You acted as a second to the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

'He asked me to, Christopher.'

'Did you not see that as an act of gross betrayal?'

'Betrayal of whom?'

'Of Sir Julius Cheever and me.'

'You urged me to get close to Cuthbert,' Henry said. 'You told me that I had to find out certain things about him. I could hardly do that if I stayed out of his way.'

'You did not have to support him at a duel.'

'A duel that should never have taken place,' said Bale, darkly.

'There's such a thing as honour, Mr Bale,' said Henry.

'I see no honour in killing a man with a sword. Duelling is a devilish practice and it was rightly abolished. Too many good men died for no reason.'

'That's not the point at issue here,' said Christopher, annoyed that his brother could stand so calmly before him. 'The duel was merely a way of drawing Sir Julius into the open. Once there, he could be trussed hand and foot with this ancient statute.'

'Yes,' said Henry, 'that rather took me by surprise.'

'Are you sure?'

'I'd swear to it, Christopher. What do I know of legal matters? When I was asked by Cuthbert to act as his second, I thought that he meant to proceed with the duel.'

'And kill Sir Julius.'

'He's never killed an opponent before and I've been at his side on three occasions. Cuthbert - the Earl of Stoneleigh to you - has a softer side. He prefers to humiliate an opponent, draw blood then show magnanimity by withdrawing.'

'He showed no magnanimity to Sir Julius.'

'I taxed him about that.'

'And what did he say?'

'That if a man is stupid enough to put his head in a noose, he must not be surprised if someone pulls it tight.'

'I wonder that you can be so blithe about it, sir,' said Bale.

'So blithe and uncaring,' said Christopher. 'Sir Julius is incarcerated in the Tower. Think what that means to a man of his dignity. And spare a thought for his family. I had to tell them what had happened. They were distraught.'

Henry was concerned. 'Was Brilliana upset?'

'She was in floods of tears.'

'I'd not have hurt her for the world. If I'd known what Cuthbert had in mind, I'd never have agreed to act as his second. But you insisted that I court him,' he told Christopher, 'and that's exactly what I did.'

'Even though it meant enraging your brother?'

'I hoped that you'd not recognise me.'

'I'd recognise you anywhere, Henry. I was simply grateful that Sir Julius did not realise you were there. He'd have run you through.'

'Then he'd not have heard what I discovered.'

'What do you mean?'

'The duel need never have taken place, Christopher.'

'It should not have taken place,' said Bale, officiously. 'If it were left to me-'

'One moment, Jonathan,' said Christopher. 'I fancy that Henry has something important to tell us. Am I right, Henry?'

'You are,' replied his brother, 'and it will demonstrate which side I am really on. Be prepared for a revelation.'

'Go on.'

'The duel was arranged on false grounds.'

'Sir Julius was goaded into it.'

'That was deliberate, Christopher - but not strictly fair.'

'Nothing about the earl suggests fairness.' 'Do not deride him,' said Henry. 'He's a brave man. When you take part in a duel, you put your life at risk. How was he to know that Sir Julius would not turn out to be an expert swordsman?'

'I saw no bravery in him today - only arrogance.'

'That's because you did not know the circumstances.'

'They seem clear to me, sir,' said Bale. 'A play was performed that held Sir Julius up to ridicule. He was bound to feel the need to strike back at its author.'

'I agree, Mr Bale, but that's not what he did.'

'It's exactly what he did,' argued Christopher. 'He issued a challenge to the Earl of Stoneleigh.'

'Yes, but Cuthbert did not actually write the offending scene.'

'But it was in a play that bore his name.'

'Inserted there by another hand, a very mischievous hand.'

Christopher was bewildered. 'Are you telling us that the man who belittled Sir Julius Cheever in front of a theatre audience was not the earl?' Henry nodded. 'Then who did write that scene?'

'Maurice Farwell.'

Maurice Farwell rolled over in bed and reached for his goblet of wine. He offered it first to the woman who lay beside him and then, when she had taken a sip, he put it to his own lips. Farwell set the goblet back on the bedside table.

'What better way to toast our success?' he said, suavely.

'I knew that we'd bring him down in the end.'

'I'm sorry that it took so long, my love. It meant that you had to endure his attentions far longer than I'd hoped.'

'The most difficult part of it was being compelled to meet his family,' said Dorothy Kitson, purring as he caressed her thigh. 'He had a frightful daughter who badgered me all evening. It was not helped by the fact that Orlando insisted on being present.'

'Your brother is such dull company.'

'No woman could say that of you, Maurice.'

'Orlando still thinks that it was an accident that we met Sir Julius at Newmarket that day. In fact, knowing that he'd be there, you made sure that you introduced me.'

'One glance at you, Dorothy, and he was bewitched.' 'Thank you,' she said, accepting a kiss, 'but there's only one man in whom I have any real interest and he lies beside me now.'

'What would Orlando say if he saw us together?'

She laughed. 'I think that he'd have a fit. My brother knows so little about the ways of the world. He's very gullible. When I told him that I'd heard about the duel from your wife, he believed me implicitly. Poor Orlando!' she sighed. 'He's so blind.'

'Forget about him, my love. Forget about everyone but us.'

'The person I most want to forget is Sir Julius Cheever.'

'Being alone with him must have been a trial for you.'

'It was, Maurice. I'd hoped he'd be shot in Knightrider Street. When he somehow survived, I had to grit my teeth and carry on with the charade. And when he came back alive from Cambridge,' she said, pulling a face, 'I could not believe my misfortune.'

'His luck has finally run out now, Dorothy.'

'What will happen to him?'

'I'll let him rot in the Tower for a few weeks.'

And then?'

'I'll have him poisoned,' said Farwell, reaching for the goblet again. 'More wine, my love?'