Susanna Gregory - The Butcher Of Smithfield

‘Does it matter?’ asked Leybourn, grabbing his arm and making for the door. The people who had not chased Hectors were busily looting the shop, stripping it of anything that could be carried. ‘They are toothless now their henchmen are on the run.’

‘We do not want them loose in the city. They will avenge themselves somehow.’

‘I saw them heading for the river, but they cannot escape because the bridge is closed. Brome was carrying a box — Newburne’s treasure, presumably.’

The rain had stopped, but everywhere was running with water. It was so deep in Paternoster Row that it was above Chaloner’s knees, and flowed fast as it headed for lower ground. His progress was agonisingly slow. Joanna looked behind, and he could hear her urging her husband on. Brome was slower, and she would have made better time alone, but she would not leave him. When he dropped the box, she screamed at him to leave it.

‘Gather it up,’ ordered Chaloner, pushing Leybourn towards the abandoned hoard. ‘Or it will wash into the Thames, and the Earl will dismiss me for certain.’

Leybourn did as he was told, grabbing mud as well as gems, while Chaloner struggled on, trying to ignore the burning exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him. Joanna reached Ludgate Hill, skidding and sliding down towards the Fleet. There was a barrier across the road to stop people from approaching, but she dodged around it, dragging her husband after her. She gained the bridge, ignoring the yells of people who shouted that it was ripe for collapse.

Hands reached out to prevent Chaloner from following, and he lost his footing. Joanna and Brome were a quarter of the way across when the structure began to sway. They tried to move faster. Chaloner punched his way free of the people who were holding him, and staggered towards the balustrade. It shuddered, and there was a tearing groan. The pair were more than halfway across, and he saw they were going to escape. Joanna turned and gave him a jaunty wave.

Chaloner took another step, but someone came from nowhere, and he felt himself hauled backwards just as the bridge tore away from its moorings. He managed to lift his head in time to see Joanna and Brome carried with it. Brome’s mouth was open in a scream, and Joanna’s face was white with horror as they were swept downstream. Then the whole structure rolled, and began to crack apart. Chaloner closed his eyes and fell back, exhausted.

‘Well,’ drawled L’Estrange. ‘There is an end to them ! You are lucky I followed you, or that pair would not be the only ones heading for a watery grave. I always knew Brome was a phanatique. Joanna, too, or she would have let me bed her when I made my advances. But you are in my debt now, Heyden. I saved your life, and in return, you will say nothing to Williamson about my inadvertent role in this affair.’

‘I shall say nothing to Williamson at all,’ said Chaloner fervently, not liking to imagine what would happen to him if the Spymaster ever discovered that he knew about the blind eye that had been turned to the Hectors’ thievery.

‘Very wise,’ said L’Estrange. ‘Shall we seal our arrangement with some music?’

‘I do not know about that,’ said Chaloner. There were limits.

‘Tomorrow, at three o’clock,’ said L’Estrange comfortably. ‘And do not be late.’

The Lord Chancellor rubbed his plump hands and chortled in delight as he inspected the box Chaloner had given him. He made no attempt to soil his fingers with its contents, of course, stained as they were with the filth of the street. Chaloner could have rinsed the jewels before presenting them to his master, but he had not done so, and he had refused to let Bulteel do it, either. Money was a dirty business, and he did not see why the Earl should be spared that knowledge.

‘And this is all of it?’ asked the Earl.

‘Yes,’ said Chaloner shortly. ‘It is.’

The Earl sighed. ‘I am not accusing you of dishonesty, Heyden. I was just wondering whether the Bromes had spent any before you managed to retrieve it.’

‘They did not have time. Is there enough to pay Dorcus Newburne’s pension?’

‘I have been relieved of that particular obligation,’ said the Earl smugly. ‘Newburne was working for me, and that why I was determined to have the truth about his death. However, he was killed because he was a thief, and I cannot be held financially responsible for that sort of thing. Dorcus has agreed to forget about the pension.’

‘How did you persuade her to do that?’ Chaloner was startled.

‘Bulteel suggested I offer her an official government post instead — Assistant Editor. She is an educated lady, and said she would relish the opportunity to use her intellect to benefit her country. So, we are both happy.’

Chaloner glanced to where Bulteel was labouring over his ledgers in an antechamber. ‘It means she will be spending a lot of time with L’Estrange.’

‘That is what I said. It was only fair to point out the downside of Bulteel’s recommendation, but she said she did not mind at all. In fact, she said it would be a pleasure.’

‘Bulteel is a clever man,’ said Chaloner, impressed by the coup the clerk had staged for his master’s benefit. ‘You would not have had this treasure without him.’

‘So you have said, at least a dozen times. I have rewarded him with a pleasant house in Westminster — his wife presented him with a son last night, and I do not want him wasting hours travelling between here and his old home in Southwark, when he could be working for me.’

Chaloner smiled, pleased the clerk’s loyalty was being acknowledged at last.

‘I have reinstated you,’ the Earl went on. ‘I have also arranged for you to be paid for the time you were in Portugal, and I have informed Williamson that you are a vital member of my household. I do not think he will risk my wrath by harming you now.’

‘Harming me for what reason?’ Chaloner had not told the Earl about Williamson’s role in the Hectors’ dark business, so the Spymaster should have no need to resort to sly daggers.

‘For tossing a bottle of exploding oil on a fire, and throwing his soldiers into a panic. He is furious that you exposed them as incompetent to the general populace.’

‘I needed to leave, and they were dithering. You would not have been pleased if I had allowed Joanna to assume control of the Hectors — or if she had used Newburne’s hoard to do it.’

‘That is what I told him,’ said the Earl, closing the box and patting it contentedly. ‘You should avoid antagonising him in the future, though — he has a nasty habit of dispatching people he does not like. But time is passing, and I have a lot to do. The floods did much damage, and my organisational skills are needed to put all to rights. Incidentally, London is not the only city to suffer from an excess of rain. So did Oxford, and I want you to go there and solve a theft that took place in my old College when the waters were up.’

‘Oxford?’ asked Chaloner unhappily, wondering if he would ever be granted the opportunity to stay in London and learn about its customs and politics.

The Earl ignored his disgruntlement. ‘The day after tomorrow will do, though — you have earned a few days of leisure. Perhaps you can use them to purchase some better clothes.’

Chaloner congratulated Bulteel on the birth of his son, and stayed to enjoy a piece of celebratory cake. Then he walked to Lincoln’s Inn, taking a few moments to look at the green stain on the buildings around White Hall, which showed the height of the flood. The rain and a gale in the North Sea had combined to produce one of the highest tides anyone could remember, and water was still seeping from damaged buildings.