P. Chisholm - A Murder of Crows

“Mrs. Briscoe,” he said gently to her, “if you haven’t seen your brother Harry…What was his surname?”

“Dowling,” Briscoe said and his wife sniffled, fumbled out a hankerchief and blew her nose. “Harold Dowling was his name.”

“If you haven’t seen him for so long, why did you think it might be him?”

She gulped again with her hand resting on her proud belly. Thank God it didn’t look as if the babe had been brought on by shock yet. “I thought I saw ‘im in the street a few weeks ago, only he wouldn’t talk to me. I was so sure it was him and I was so pleased but he wouldn’t stop and he wouldn’t speak.”

“Where did you see him?”

“Seething Lane, near Sir Francis Walsingham’s old house.”

“How was he dressed?”

“He looked like a gentleman which is what he always wanted to be, you see. He went off to Germany after he had a big fight wiv my dad and went for a miner, but we never heard nuffing more from him and my dad said he’d probably died in a mine and good riddance.” She sniffled. “He was always in trouble, Harry, so maybe he was soldiering as well. It’s a good thing my mam never saw what he come to after she spent all that money to put him to school.”

Carey nodded. “But you’re not sure it’s him?”

She shook her head. “It might be because of the finger, that’s why I came. When I heard the crier say that about the body. He lost the tip of it when he was a boy and he caught it in a gate and the barber cut it off cos it went bad.”

She stopped, frowned and blinked at him. “Who are you, sir?”

“I’m Sir Robert Carey. My father asked me to try and find out why this man ended in the Thames with a knife wound in him.”

She gasped again. “I don’t know about that. He was a lovely bruvver,” she said, “’e took to me to Bartalmew’s Fair when I was little and every year after and he was such fun, always laughing and full of ideas for making money. He was certain he’d end as a gentleman.”

“I believe the inquest will be tomorrow…” said Carey, looking for confirmation at Hunsdon’s man who nodded, “in front of the Board of Greencloth. Afterwards you’ll be able to claim the body to bury.”

The girl nodded again and blew her nose again. “Thank you, sir.”

“May we help you to your home. I have a boat waiting for me.” Carey was watching the girl with concern.

Briscoe coughed. “Thank you kindly, sir, but we don’t live far from here and my wife prefers to walk, don’t you, Ellie?” The girl nodded as she heaved herself off the bench. “I’ve been walking a lot today, haven’t I, Tim?” she said with a watery smile. “It’s easier than sitting, to be honest, sir. And I don’t know if I could get in a boat at the moment, I’m so clumsy.”

“I see,” said Carey and smiled at her. “Well, God’s blessing on your time, mistress, I hope all goes well for you.” Ellie Briscoe went pink and dropped him a clumsy curtsey as she waddled off with her husband’s arm around her into the molten light that the sun was pouring into the Thames like a beekeeper measuring honey. Enys headed with his shoulders bowed towards the boatlanding.

“Will you not take a quart of ale, sir?” said Carey.

“If we do not presently round up the witnesses to Mr. Heneage’s assault on Sergeant Dodd, be very sure we will never find them,” said Enys in an oddly strangled voice. “Since he himself has given us the slip, I’m sure the lesser fry can and will.”

“Ay but surely they’ll be feared for their kin,” said Dodd who deeply doubted there was any point in finding the witnesses at all. Unpaid ones, anyway. “They’ll no’ testify, naebody would.” He’d thought that their only chance of persuading anyone to do it was being able to say “and Mr. Heneage is locked up now, what do you say to that?” while persuasively bouncing heads off walls. He’d assumed that was what they were about.

“You have a point,” said Carey regretfully as he followed the lawyer, gestured to the oarsmen and bailiffs who were sitting in the sun by the red lattices of the alehouse, and headed to the boat again.

Enys had a list of witnesses that Dodd had drawn up. Most of them were in Heneage’s pay. And Dodd had been looking forward to wetting his whistle which was starting to go dry, which was his own fault.

Scowling he got back in the damned boat again and sat there watching as Enys fumbled and wobbled his way to the seat. Carey stepped across and sat down at the prow, trailing his finger in the water and looking thoughtful.

“It’s a pity Mrs. Grenville’s a woman so she can’t testify,” he said. “All the rest are Heneage’s men, apart from Mr. Cheke.”

Enys frowned. “Nobody else?”

“The Gaoler and the gaol servants.”

“Hmm. Sergeant, you were marked in the register as Sir Robert.”

“Ay, but I writ me own name in the book, clear as ye like,” said Dodd proudly, “not me mark but me name and office as well.” It was almost worth the missed football games and beatings from the Reverend Gilpin to be able to say that to the hoity toity London lawyer.

Surprisingly, Enys didn’t seem impressed by Dodd’s clerkly ability but he did look pleased.

“So under whose name were you removed from the gaol? Yours or Sir Robert’s?”

Dodd thought he’d been through this with Enys the night before. “Well, it couldnae have been Sir Robert’s name because Heneage knew fine Ah wisae him for he was angry about it.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Ay, he did.”

“In front of the Keeper and the gaol servants?”

“Ay, he was furious. So he kenned verrah well who I wis and called me Mr . Dodd forbye. Like ye said to the judge.”

“I believe we should pay a visit to the Fleet and arrest the Keeper,” Enys said to Carey. “It’s possible he has not been warned by Heneage and putting him in gaol might help to flush out the Vice Chamberlain.”

“He’ll get bail,” Carey said.

“I expect so,” said Enys placidly, “but the point will have been made. And with luck we will be able to establish something very damaging to Mr. Vice in the process.”

Dodd leaned forward. “Ay, but surely Heneage will get away wi’ it in the end,” he said, realising as he spoke that that was why he had been in a dump since they left Heneage’s house in Chelsea. Jesu, the man had his own personal dungeons and torture chamber. He was going up against someone more dangerous than the Grahams, that was sure. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it but it had been the blood on the manacles bolted high on the pillar in the cellar that had sent him queasy. Him. A Dodd from Upper Tynedale. At the age of sixteen he had taken a fine and bloody revenge for his father’s murder by the Elliots and…

No, he wouldn’t take the insult from anybody…but was law the right way to go about it? For all Carey’s father’s fine talk about paper weapons and lawyers as men at arms and champions.

“On the criminal charge, yes, he’ll likely compose with a fine which you should accept. On the civil…” Enys shrugged. “If we are before Mr. Justice Whitehead and any of the witnesses agree with you…Again it will be in the nature of a fine.”

Dodd grunted. It all came down to money for these folk, didn’t it. Well, was money what he really wanted? And since Heneage was still at large, would they find he had called out his affinity and descended on Somerset House while they were away. Och God, was that where he was?

He was about to mention the possibility to Sir Robert when Enys interrupted.

“It is certainly worth subpoena’ing the henchmen to testify that Heneage laid hands on you himself. Was he the only one?”

Dodd blinked at him. “Nay, they all had in wi’ a boot or a fist, tho…” Dodd paused and brightened. “Ay, but they might not mind admitting that Heneage laid into me wi’ a cosh if I said that he was the only one. Ay, I’ll say that.”