Susanna Gregory - The Butcher Of Smithfield

‘He took your money sack off me,’ added Kirby, eager to support her claim. ‘I recognise his voice now. He came at me with a dag …’ He trailed off when he realised the implications of what he had said. Ireton was not the only Hector who rolled his eyes.

‘Yes, I took it from you,’ agreed Chaloner pleasantly. ‘After I saw you steal it from Will. I cannot imagine how you knew where to look for it — unless someone told you its whereabouts, of course.’

‘Where is my money, Tom?’ asked Leybourn, hurt and bewildered.

‘That is a good question,’ said Kirby, standing slowly. There was a dagger in his hand, and several Hectors grinned at each other, anticipating some entertaining violence. ‘And you will answer it.’

‘Before or after I paint the wall with your brains?’ asked Chaloner, aiming the gun at him.

Kirby sat quickly, but Ireton was less easily intimidated. ‘And then what? You shoot Kirby, but how will you tackle the rest of us? You cannot win against us all.’

‘No one is going to kill anyone,’ said Leybourn. His face was white with anguish. ‘What is wrong with you all? Mary told me you were civilised.’

‘It is all right, Jonas,’ said Mary, as Kirby’s fingers tightened around his dagger. Her eyes flicked towards the fire, passing him a message. Chaloner glanced at the hearth, where there was a merry blaze. Over it was a cauldron-style pot containing something that bubbled, along with a side of pork on a spit. Chaloner had eaten nothing all day, but there was something about the situation that robbed him of his appetite. Something was definitely not right.

‘Do not worry about his gun,’ said the pheasant-faced man to Mary. He grinned merrily at her. ‘The firing pin is broken, so it is quite harmless.’

‘So it is,’ said Ireton, suddenly gleeful. ‘That puts a different complexion on matters!’

Treen laughed jubilantly, and several of the Hectors produced daggers.

‘No!’ breathed Leybourn in a strangled voice. ‘Stop!’

Chaloner saw his situation was fast becoming hopeless, and knew he should have taken more time to assess the situation before acting. What could he do against a dozen armed men? He could eliminate some with his sword, but it would only be a matter of time before he was overwhelmed. And then what would happen to Leybourn?

Mary smiled coldly at him. ‘I have been saying for some time that you should meet Mr Crisp, and he has honoured us with his presence at dinner this evening. So, I am delighted you came.’

Chaloner expected the large, menacing man to reply, and was startled when Pheasant Face looked up and beamed at him.

‘Are you a bookseller, too?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘I like booksellers! They are an erudite lot, and there is so much to learn these days. I read an English translation of Galileo’s Dialogo just yesterday, although I prefer the original Latin. Leybourn tells me you were at Cambridge.’

Chaloner was bemused. A cheery gnome who read Latin was not what he was expecting from the Butcher of Smithfield. He recalled glimpsing a round, smiling face at Newburne’s funeral, and supposed it was the same man. Then he remembered the catlike grace with which Crisp had moved when he was with his Hectors at Smithfield and in Old Jewry, and was not so sure.

‘Who is your father?’ Chaloner asked, somewhat abruptly. Ireton sniggered — he knew the line Chaloner’s thoughts had taken.

‘This is Crisp,’ said Leybourn in a small voice. ‘I have known him for years.’

But something was awry. And why were the Hectors not attacking him when they could overpower him with ease?

‘My father is Sir Nicholas,’ replied Crisp genially. ‘Have you read my piece on inshore winds and climate, by the way? Leybourn was good enough to say it was a significant contribution to navigation.’

‘But I did not know you had written it, not until tonight. It was published anonymously.’ Leybourn sounded as confused as Chaloner felt.

‘I am a modest man,’ said Crisp. ‘Where are you going, Ireton? I hope it is not to fetch your lute. I dislike music. This pork is excellent, incidentally. May I have some more?’

‘In a moment,’ said Mary, dismissing him carelessly. ‘We are celebrating.’

‘Celebrating what?’ Chaloner was watching Ireton, who had gone to lean against the far wall with his hands tucked into his belt. The spy was growing more bewildered by the minute. Ireton did not seem to be moving towards a weapon, so what was he doing?

‘William and I made wills today, leaving all our property to each other,’ said Mary. Her voice was smug, and Leybourn settled back into his dazed state. ‘Thurloe threatened to apply some devious legal ruling that would see me disinherited, but Ireton is a lawyer, too, and he worked out a way to prevent that from happening.’

Ireton removed a pipe from his pocket, the picture of insouciance. ‘Thurloe’s ploy will not work now she has signed her property over to Leybourn . And she owns a small house near Uxbridge, before you say she has the better end of the bargain. She is not poor.’

‘You are very wet, Heyden,’ said Mary, shooting Kirby another unreadable glance. ‘Stand by the fire, to dry off. But drop your sword first.’

Chaloner frowned. The table had been placed in such a way that Leybourn was nearest the hearth, and Crisp, as his right-hand guest, was not much further away. What was she going to do?

‘Yes, drop it,’ said Kirby, fingering his dagger. He drew back his arm when the spy continued to hesitate, and prepared to throw it.

With no choice but to comply, Chaloner let the weapon clatter to the floor.

‘I want more pork,’ declared Crisp. He banged on the table with his spoon, more in the manner of a petulant child than a man who held a city to ransom with his evil deeds. ‘Now.’

‘Wait!’ snapped Mary. ‘Stand by the fire, Heyden.’

But Chaloner was beginning to understand. ‘Will, come to me,’ he ordered.

‘Stay!’ barked Mary, when Leybourn started to stand. Conditioned to obey, the surveyor sank down again. ‘And go to the hearth, Heyden, before Kirby knifes you.’

‘I shall have a cucumber, then,’ said Crisp sulkily. He gnawed off a chunk and tossed the rest towards Kirby, who flinched away violently. It touched his hand before falling to the floor, and he began to scrub it on the side of his coat.

‘Will,’ said Chaloner urgently. ‘Come here.’

‘He stays where he is,’ said Mary harshly. She backed away, and suddenly she, Kirby and Treen dived to the floor and put their hands over their heads. Leybourn gaped at them.

‘Are you going to fetch the pork?’ asked Crisp. ‘These cucumbers are-’ He stopped speaking, and both hands went to his throat.

‘He is choking,’ said the big man next to him, alarmed. ‘He took too big a bite.’

‘Good bye, William,’ shouted Mary exultantly. ‘Thank you for everything.’

Chaloner leapt towards Leybourn, hauling him from his chair just as there was a tremendous explosion that turned the room into a chaos of sound and light. And then there was only darkness.

There was a dull roaring in Chaloner’s ears, which gradually resolved into a single voice. He opened his eyes to see Leybourn’s frightened face looming over him, speaking indistinctly as though he was underwater. He sat up slowly, taking in the carnage around him.

Ellis Crisp was dead, lying on the far side of the room like a broken doll, and there were three other bodies, too. One was Treen, while Mary lay gasping at his side. Chaloner scrambled upright, and grabbed Kirby, who was in the process of crawling towards the door. But before the spy could stop him, Leybourn had dealt the felon a vicious blow with a skillet, which laid him out cold.