Susanna Gregory: The Westminster Poisoner

‘Irrelevant?’ Chaloner was unable to stop himself from pointing out an inconsistency. ‘But when we caught Greene running away from Chetwynd’s body, you said it was relevant, because it was Greene’s motive for murder: jealousy.’

The Earl glared at him. ‘You really are an insolent dog! But you should watch your tongue from now on, because if Turner transpires to be better than you, I shall appoint him in your place and dispense with your services. There are those who think I am rash to employ a man who was a member of Cromwell’s secret service, and I am beginning to think they may have a point.’

‘You mean Williamson?’ The government’s most recent spymaster held Chaloner responsible for the death of a friend earlier that year, and hated him intensely. It was unfortunate, because Chaloner had hoped to continue spying in Holland after the Restoration — the King needed experienced men to watch the Dutch just as much as Cromwell had, and his record was impeccable. Moreover, he had only ever provided reports on alien nations, never on the exiled King. But he would never be sent to the Netherlands as long as Williamson was in charge of intelligence.

The Earl nodded. ‘He says that hiring ex-Parliamentarian agents may make folk question my loyalty to the King. And he is right — I have many enemies at Court, and one might well use my employing of you to harm me.’

‘But none of them know about my past,’ objected Chaloner. ‘Unless you have told them?’

‘I have not,’ said the Earl firmly. ‘Do you think me a fool, to provide them with ammunition? And Williamson knows better than to tell them, too, because he is afraid of your mentor. Cromwell’s old spymaster may have lost his government posts and a good slice of his wealth when the Royalists returned, but he still wields enough power to make him dangerous.’

Unfortunately, though, the fear in which men had once held Thurloe was beginning to wane as time passed. Chaloner was not worried about what that meant for himself, although the prospect of an unleashed Williamson was not something he relished, but about the repercussions for his friend. There were those who thought Cromwell’s chief advisor had no right to be living in peaceful retirement, and should suffer a traitor’s death.

‘Greene, sir,’ Chaloner prompted, supposing he would have to prove his loyalty yet again to the Earl and the new government — and keep proving it until he was fully trusted. It was a miserable situation, because there was little about the Earl or the work that he liked, but he needed to earn a crust, and no one else was lining up to hire him.

The Earl pursed his lips. ‘When Greene came slithering out of the Painted Chamber, just as you and I happened to be walking past, he behaved very suspiciously.’

‘He was frightened,’ said Chaloner reasonably. ‘He had just found a dead senior official, and then the Lord Chancellor accused him of murder. I would have been frightened, too.’

‘But you would not have tried to run away. You would have stayed and explained yourself.’

‘He panicked — it could happen to anyone under such circumstances.’

‘Rubbish,’ declared the Earl, with a note of finality that told Chaloner any further debate would be a waste of time. ‘But I told Colonel Turner that I want this killer — whether it is Greene or someone else — behind bars by Twelfth Night. He assures me that it will be done. What will you promise?’

‘To do my best. I will not lie to you, or make pledges I may not be able to fulfil.’

The Earl stared at him for a moment. ‘Very well. Go and do your best then, and let us see where it leads. However, I see no point in continuing to watch Greene — he slipped past you to murder Vine, after all — so give up the surveillance and concentrate on other leads instead. And incidentally, these deaths do not mean you can forget about the previous task I set you.’

Chaloner regarded him blankly. ‘What previous task? Finding out what the Lord of Misrule plans to do over the next ten days?’

The Earl grimaced in distaste. ‘You had better not waste your time on that nonsense! No, I mean the King’s missing statue. He remains grieved by its loss, and I would like to be the one to hand it back to him. You will be busy, because I give both these enquiries equal status.’

The Earl of Clarendon was not normally a stupid man, and Chaloner could not help but wonder whether there was more to his dislike of Greene than he was willing to share. It would not be the first time he had been less than honest with his spy before sending him off on an investigation, and Chaloner knew from bitter experience that this could prove dangerous. But such subterfuge was the Earl’s way, and Chaloner had come to expect lies and half-truths, so he resigned himself to fathoming out the mystery without his master’s cooperation. It was a wicked waste of his time, especially given that he had two other enquiries to conduct, but it could not be helped, and there was no point in wasting energy by railing against it.

‘He is in a bad mood this morning,’ said Bulteel, following the spy down the stairs with some letters to post. ‘His gout must be aggravating him.’

‘He is always in a bad mood,’ Chaloner replied tartly. ‘So goutiness must be his permanent state.’

‘Do not be too hard on him,’ said Bulteel quietly. ‘He is under a lot of pressure, what with the bishops demanding new laws to suppress nonconformists, the Court popinjays clamouring for war with the Dutch, and people muttering that the Queen — the wife he chose for His Majesty — is barren.’

‘How is your family?’ Chaloner was loath to discuss the Earl’s concerns, because he and Bulteel held diametrically opposite views on most of them. Bulteel tended to accept whatever the Earl told him, whereas Chaloner had seen enough of the world to make up his own mind.

Bulteel blinked at the abrupt enquiry. ‘Well, we would like to provide our little son with a sibling, but I fear for my future employment. Haddon has only been here a few months, but the Earl already prefers him to me — he is taking over duties that should be mine.’

‘But that is why he was hired,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘You were overwhelmed, struggling to keep up, and Haddon is meant to be taking some of your work. The Earl expects you to be grateful, not nervous.’

‘Well, I am nervous,’ snapped Bulteel, uncharacteristically sharp. ‘This job is important to me. And I do not like Haddon, anyway. He smells of dog and is always smiling at people. It is not natural.’

‘Right,’ said Chaloner, not sure what else to say. Haddon did smile at people, but no more than was necessary for normal social intercourse, and the spy had not noticed any particular odour of pooch. He changed the subject before the discussion went any further — he did not want to take sides when he had to work with both secretary and steward. ‘I do not suppose you have heard any rumours about these murders, have you? About potential culprits?’

‘I am afraid not,’ replied Bulteel. ‘All I know is that neither victim will be mourned by his kin, although London will be a poorer place without them. They were good men.’

‘You knew them well?’

‘No, but I wish I had — they were gentle and kind. And Vine funded a hospice for stray dogs. Perhaps that is why they were killed — the Court is so full of vice that decency is considered a fault.’

‘Is Greene the kind of man to despise goodness?’

‘I do not know him well, either, but I would not have thought so. He is very devout, by all accounts — attends church most mornings, and does charitable work in Southwark.’

‘Then what about the missing statue? There must be some gossip regarding its whereabouts?’