Ian Morson - Falconer and the Death of Kings

‘You have no need to explain to me, Thomas Symon. I have indulged in similar adventures, and equally have no desire for anyone in authority to know.’ He stepped forward and held a hand out to the other man in the room. ‘You must be Master Adam Morrish.’

Morrish, his eager face beaming, took the friar’s hand and shook it vigorously.

‘And you, sir, are Roger Bacon, if I am not mistaken. It is a privilege to meet you.’

Bacon lowered his eyes modestly to the ground.

‘Well, I do not know about that. I admit I have a certain reputation, but you, sir, though new to Paris, are carving out a reputation too.’

For a moment Thomas thought he saw a look of alarm cross Morrish’s face. But then it was gone, to be replaced by a wide grin. Perhaps he had imagined the reaction. The two men were exchanging compliments, and he was excluded from their circle. Until Bacon broke off and beckoned to him to come forward.

‘Thomas, we forget our manners. You are a busy young man, and I must not waste any more of your time than I must in order to carry out our task. You must excuse us, Master Morrish, but Thomas and I have an appointment with some parchment and ink.’

Morrish’s brow furrowed with a look of curiosity, but he contented himself with one question only.

‘You will find time, will you not, to speak to my students? They are a bunch of dunderheads, but you may be able to knock some sense into them.’

Bacon seemed disconcerted by Morrish’s easy charm, but he nodded briefly.

‘Yes, I will gladly do as you say. I must, after all, earn my keep in your school. Payment in kind is all I can offer for the use of your back room. Now, come Thomas, we shall begin.’

Soon the two of them were settled in the damp back room, Thomas with a quill in his hand and a fresh piece of parchment staring blankly up at him on the table. He had ruled the sheet with lines, but there was nothing else on it for now. Soon, it was to be covered with black marks that would capture the ideas of Doctor Mirabilis in some miraculous way. Thomas stared nervously at the page, while Bacon gazed out across the river to the two looming towers of Notre-Dame Cathedral.

The friar took a deep breath and sighed.

‘I have the stink of corruption in my nostrils, so that is where we will begin. Write this down, Thomas.’

Falconer’s attempt to speak to Queen Eleanor might have failed dismally, if she hadn’t walked in on his conversation with Sir John Appleby. He had sought out the dandified courtier soon after nones in the afternoon. The knight appeared to have dined well and looked soporific. But when Falconer asked to see Eleanor, he immediately bristled.

‘You may have been asked by the king to investigate some unexplained deaths. But that does not give you the right to come here demanding to see the queen.’

Falconer’s attempt to point out that he had ‘demanded’ no such thing was brushed aside.

‘Did not your interview with Clisby and Cloughe satisfy you? Did they not tell you the truth?’

‘Yes and no, Sir John. I have no doubt that they were entirely truthful in so far as they knew the facts. But they could not help on the crucial issue of who told the Assassin to act.’

‘And why do you think the queen can answer that?’ He snorted derisively. ‘The lady can have no idea what caused Anzazim to betray the trust placed in him. Besides, she cannot speak to you as she has left the palace and is already on the way to visit her family in Castile.’

‘That is a pity. I was told she was present immediately after the murder attempt. I thought she may be able to recall something that was said by Anzazim. I dare say that no one has asked her such a question before.’

Falconer looked at Appleby, and was suddenly aware of a look of surprise in Sir John’s eyes. He realized the man’s gaze was fixed, however, not at Falconer but over his shoulder. But before he could turn around, there was the sound of silk rustling and a pleasant voice spoke out.

‘What question might that be, sir?’

Falconer had heard tell that Eleanor was beautiful, but he was not prepared for the person who now stood in the doorway of the chamber. Her figure was well shaped, made more attractive by the swell of pregnancy. Her thick mane of loose hair reminded him of Saphira’s tresses. But Eleanor’s locks were dark and glossy where Saphira’s were flame-red. Her face was pleasant and well proportioned, no more. But what made it exceptional were the eyes. They were bright and intense, showing Eleanor to be a very confident and intelligent woman. It was her eyes that raised her above the common crowd, as well as her breeding. Falconer replied to her query, taking his chance before Sir John could intervene.

‘Your Majesty, I am William Falconer, taxed by the king to investigate the attempt on his life. I merely wished to talk to you about the unpleasant incident with your husband in Acre.’

Eleanor shivered and crossed her arms around herself, as though trying to protect herself from the evil memory of that day. Falconer immediately regretted his blunt approach.

‘Of course, if it is too painful a memory, I will understand.’

Eleanor pulled herself upright, lifting her chin high. She was visibly growing into her role as the Queen of England.

‘No, Master Falconer, I can speak of it, and tell you all I know. But it will be little, I’m afraid.’

She waved a hand, and Appleby hurried out of the room, no doubt on his way to inform Edward of this turn of events. Eleanor, meanwhile, crossed to the large and comfortable chair that stood beside the empty hearth and sat down, smoothing her gravid belly. Falconer remained standing and formed his first question carefully.

‘Did Your Majesty think that Anzazim was a reliable servant before this incident?’

Eleanor paused, making clear that she was giving the question fair and full consideration.

‘I saw him several times, bringing communications from the Emir of Joppa to my husband, and I even spoke to him once or twice. He appeared to be a very courteous and charming young man. My husband trusted him, so I see no reason why I should not have. Oh, and before we continue, Master Falconer, please no more Y our Majesties , or this will be a very long and tedious conversation.’

Falconer nodded politely and went on.

‘Thank you, Your… My Lady, what caused you to enter the chamber just after the attempt on your husband’s life?’

Eleanor frowned and sat a little forward in the chair, clasping her hands around her right knee. For a moment she looked like a young girl eager to please her old uncle.

‘I heard a commotion. A cry from my husband, I think. My instinct was to go to him, so I did.’

‘Not to run and hide in fear of your life?’

Eleanor smiled, and involuntarily Falconer found himself captivated by this pretty woman. He had to remind himself she was the queen, a mother several times over and fast approaching her thirtieth birthday.

‘I am not a shrinking violet, Master Falconer. Nor do I live in fear for my life. Besides, if there had been any danger, I am sure the men-at-arms surrounding my husband would have held me back.’

Worldy-wise as well as beautiful, then.

‘I am sure they would have. Please, tell me what you saw and heard when you entered the king’s chamber. Any fact, no matter how small, could be of significance.’

‘I am not sure I registered much. My eyes were mainly for my husband. He was standing by the window on the other side of the room, clutching his hand into a fist. The room was in a mess. A table had been tipped over and the marble top shattered. Two guards were dragging a body out of the room. I did not see at the time who it was. All I could see was blood everywhere. I did not know if it was that of my husband or the other man’s. I just ran to Edward’s side. He tried to convince me he was all right, but then he collapsed at my feet.’