Sharon Penman - The Queen Man

"I thought it was worth a try." Reaching under his mantle, Luke drew out a wineskin. "We do not need confessions, for we have enough evidence without them to hang both of you higher than Haman. Master de Quincy there was a witness to that killing out on the Alresford Road. His testimony alone will be enough to send Gilbert to the gallows. And there are so many people eager to testify against you that they'll have to hold the trial in St Paul's churchyard to accommodate them all. No, the verdicts are a foregone conclusion. I was merely seeking to tie up loose ends."

"How?" Sampson said with a sneer. "By having me make my peace with God?"

Luke shrugged. "Some men find it a comfort to go to their deaths with a clear conscience," he said, and appeared quite unfazed when Sampson responded with a burst of profanity. "It cannot be easy, lying down there in the pit day after day, just waiting to die. What man jack amongst us is not afraid of death, especially a death by hanging?" Tilting the flask up, he drank with apparent relish, seeming not to notice how Sampson's eyes followed the wineskin. "If it were me, I'd want a priest, for certes."

"Well, you are not me," Sampson snapped and added a "bleeding whoreson" for punctuation.

Luke was no longer smiling. "No… I am not the one who is going to be hanged by the neck until dead, and right glad I am of it. That is a wretched, slow way to die. I'd rather take a knife in the gut than face a noose."

Sampson had slouched down in his seat, but he still kept his eyes upon the wineskin. "Who's to say that I'll hang?"

"Oh, you'll hang, Sampson. You killed a man in full view of half of Aldgate and then got caught in the act. Christ, man, the blood had not even dried on your dagger! One of God's own angels could come down to speak out in court in your behalf and it would avail you naught. The day you go to trial is the day you go to the gallows."

Luke passed the wineskin to Justin, then tossed it to Jonas. "I suppose you can always hope that the rope might break. That happened to a prisoner back in my first year as under-sheriff, and the king pardoned him."

"I'll see to it that we use a sturdy new one, just for him," Jonas promised and laughed as if he'd made a joke.

Luke caught the wineskin deftly in midair, then set it down without drinking. "I know you've seen men die, Sampson. But have you ever seen a man hanged? It is not a sight to be forgotten, believe me. It is not quick, takes a long while for a man to strangle. His hands are tied behind his back, so he cannot free himself. Helpless, he just dangles there, feet kicking desperately to reach the ground, face turning blue and then black, gasping for air, willing to barter anything for one more breath. Sometimes a man even swallows his own tongue — "

"God curse you!" Sampson was on his feet, his manacled fists raised in a futile threat. "I've had enough of this, I do not want to hear any more!"

"You think I care what you want?" Luke said coldly. "Sit back down."

Justin doubted that Sampson would obey the command, but after a moment, the man slumped back in his chair. His face was blotched with heat, his eyes red rimmed and puffy, and when Luke suddenly tossed the wineskin, he snatched at it with hands that shook. He gulped the wine as if he could never get enough, uncaring when it ran into his beard and splattered on his dirty, torn tunic.

"What do you want of me?" he asked, clutching the wineskin to his chest. "Why are you here?"

"I want the truth. We have questions to put to you about other killings and we need answers. I want to be able to bury these cases with you."

"Why should I?" Sampson asked, with a trace of his earlier bravado. "What do I get out of it?"

When Luke leaned forward, Justin knew this was the question he'd been waiting for Sampson to ask. "You are going to die. I cannot change that, would not if I could. But I can make your last days more tolerable. If I were facing the noose, I'd want to make my peace with God. And then I'd want to get drunk, so drunk I'd not care when they came for me. You tell us what we want to know, Sampson, and I'll see that you get enough wine or

ale to go to the gallows as drunk as a blind minstrel's bitch."

Sampson started to speak, stopped himself. Twisting around in his seat, he looked over at Jonas, then back at Luke. "If I agree, how do I know you'll keep your part of the bargain?"

Luke reached under his mantle again, this time drawing out a money pouch. "Answer our questions and you'll earn money to buy all the ale you want from the guards. Not to mention food or blankets. For enough money, a man might even be able to buy himself some female company. Am I right, Jonas?"

"It has been known to happen," the serjeant said laconically.

Luke balanced the pouch in the palm of his hand. "So… what say you, Sampson? Do we have a deal?"

"Let me count it first." Sampson fumbled the catch, made clumsy by his manacles. Scooping the pouch up from the floor, he fingered the coins before saying gruffly, "What do you want to know?"

Luke permitted himself a quick glint of triumph in Justin's direction. "Let's start with London. I know Jonas is right curious about all you've been up to in his city."

"You already know about that lackwit in Aldgate."

"Overcome with remorse, are you?" Luke said sardonically, and Sampson looked at him blankly.

"Why should I feel sorry for him? He brought it upon himself, meddling like he did. He gave me no choice. I do not know what else to tell you."

"How many robberies?" Jonas asked impatiently. "I know about the man you robbed in Southwark, near the bridge. And the drunkard you dragged into an alley off Cheapside. Any more?"

Sampson screwed up his face, trying to concentrate. "Well… I took a money pouch away from a stripling over in the stews. Green as grass he was, boasting that he was there to

'buy some tail,' and waving his money about like he was begging to be robbed. Then I got into a brawl in an alehouse near Cripplegate, took the man's rings and dagger for my trouble. That is all, I think. Oh, I also broke a woman's jaw, but she was just a whore, trying to cheat me. And Gib and me robbed a man on the Watling Street Road. Since we'd not reached London yet, does that count?"

"Gilbert was getting careless, letting a witness live. Or was he feeling charitable that day?"

Luke's sarcasm was wasted upon Sampson. "Gib meant to kill him, but he ran off into the woods and we decided it was not worth chasing after him." Shaking the wineskin, he discovered that there was enough for one more swig and gulped it down. "What else do you want to know?"

They'd been conversing in English, but Luke now switched to French, effectively shutting Sampson out. "I suppose you want to take over from here, de Quincy? He's in no hurry to go back to the pit, ought to tell you whatever you need to know about the goldsmith's murder. I hope you will share it with me afterward, for I want to solve Fitz Randolph's murder as much as you do. But I expect you'll have to get the queen's consent first?"

"Yes, I will," Justin admitted. "But I'll tell the queen that if not for you, we'd not have gotten Sampson to talk."

Luke grinned. "If you want to praise me to the queen, I'd not object. But you'll still owe me for the money I gave that swine!" Standing up abruptly, he aimed a hard, quelling stare at Sampson. "The serjeant and I have an errand to take care of. Master de Quincy will ask the questions whilst we're gone. Answer them well and I might bring back a wineskin for you. Lie to him and you'll pass the night out in the stocks, stripped down to your braies."

With that, he started for the door. Jonas followed, leaving Justin alone with the prisoner. The other man was regarding him incuriously. He showed no antagonism, but neither did he display any of the grudging wariness he'd accorded Luke and Jonas. Justin was not troubled, though, for Luke had taught him how Sampson could be tamed.