P. Chisholm - A Murder of Crows

Dodd coughed, thought hard and then decided that the unvarnished truth was easier to remember than any improvement of the story. He started at the beginning, went through the middle, and ended with Pickering. He left out his discussion with Carey the night before.

“Hmm,” said Lady Hunsdon. “Well then, let’s go and see that young lawyer, shall we?”

It was only a little way along the Thames bank to Temple steps where Trevasker hopped out first and handed the Lady up while Dodd helped make fast and jumped out onto the small boatlanding.

A group of lawyers in their sinister black robes were clattering down the steps and tried to get into the Hunsdon boat. Trevasker moved in front of them and growled that it was a private craft. One of them had the grace to bow in apology for the mistake to Lady Hunsdon while the others started bellowing “Oars!” None of the Thames boatmen seemed in a hurry to take them anywhere, probably because they were students at one of the Inns and law students were notoriously almost as bad as apprentices for not paying tips and being sick in the back of the boat on the way home.

Lady Hunsdon climbed the steps and then headed in the direction of the Temple. Dodd led the way to the ramshackle buildings where Enys had his chambers. Lady Hunsdon looked narrow-eyed at the steep uneven stairs and sat herself down on a nearby pile of flagstones.

“Ask Mr. Enys if he will come down to meet an old lady,” she said. “I doubt my poor old knees will take me to the top of that lot. Off you go Sergeant. Captain Trevasker shall bear me company.”

Dodd headed up the stairs. Halfway there he heard shouting and speeded up, taking them two at a time until he came out on to the landing where the pieces of Enys’s door were stacked in a corner, the new raw wood of its replacement wide open and two men standing facing each other in the still half-wrecked sitting room. There was a curtain across the gap to the second room.

One was Enys pale-faced and furious, the other was Shakespeare, hat off, bald head gleaming in the light from the small window, and a certain smug look on his face. They had obviously stopped their quarrel when they heard Dodd’s boots on the stairs.

Shakespeare peered out of the window and smiled. “I see my lady has come to see you as well,” he murmured. “I shall leave you to consider matters.”

With a bow to Dodd he left and trotted down to the courtyard, humming some ditty to himself. Dodd glared after him. If they had been on the Borders, he would have been certain the man was putting the bite on for protection…Mr. Ritchie Graham of Brackenhill is willing to protect your barn from burning while it has such a wonderful quantity of hay in it, but will need his expenses paying…That kind of thing. It was the expression on the face. That smugness. Dodd scowled. Having once felt sorry for Shakespeare for being a poet, he no longer did. The man was nothing but trouble.

“Sergeant,” said Enys, sounding tense again, “Can I help you?”

“That poet,” said Dodd, “what did he want?”

Enys paused, frowned, took breath, then let it out again and smiled cynically. “Nothing good, you may be sure. However, it is confidential.”

“Ay,” said Dodd, being rather tired of the word and the general atmosphere in London of people not telling other people things they needed to be told. “Milady Hunsdon wants tae know if ye’ll be kind enough to come down to her…”

“Of course,” said Enys, putting on his hat.

Down in the shade of an old almond tree perhaps planted by one of the Knights Templar, Lady Hunsdon looked Enys sharply up and down. “What did that poet want?”

Enys bowed. “Unfortunately,” he said, “I am not at liberty…”

“He’s not one of your clients, is he?”

“Not exactly. However…”

“Well then, what’s he up to. I know he spies for somebody, probably Heneage.”

Enys blinked and tried unsuccessfully to hide his surprise. Then there was another cynical smile pulling his face. “I cannot say I’m surprised, ma’am, but the matter is still confidential.”

“Indeed?” said Lady Hunsdon, very chilly. “When you change your mind you may speak to me about it. Now then. Mr. Vice Chamberlain Heneage. How far have you got with your case for Sergeant Dodd?”

Enys gave her the situation pretty much as Dodd had described it, only in legal-talk. Dodd might have been offended a month or two earlier, but he knew that this was simply the way Carey proceeded and no doubt he had learned it from someone.

“Attend upon me at Somerset House tomorrow,” milady ordered. “I shall have the steward make you a payment and I may have a little more work for you. My son tells me he was impressed by your abilities in court.”

Enys coloured at that, bowed to her.

“We shall see how you are at drafting. Do you have a clerk?”

“No milady, but I myself can write a fair Secretary or Italic, as needed.”

Lady Hunsdon nodded and wiggled her fingers at him. “Off you go then, Mr. Enys. Oh by the way, are you any kin to the Enys twins from the farm near Penryn?”

Enys paused, breathed carefully. “Cousins, my lady,” he said. “There are only two of them but three in my family.”

“Hm. Interesting. I didn’t know that old Bryn Enys had a brother?”

“Perhaps second cousins?”

“Hm.”

Enys bowed and turned back to his chamber. “Sergeant, may I ask you something.” Dodd went with him up the stairs again. “I was wondering if you meant what you said about teaching me to fight?”

Dodd rubbed his chin. “Ay, I did. I dinna want tae be put to the trouble o’ finding another lawyer. And it’s a pity for a man to wear a sword and not know how to use it.”

Enys nodded and swallowed hard.

“Is it a duel,” Dodd asked nosily, unable to help himself. “Wi’ Shakespeare?”

“Er…no, only…Ah. I think you’re right. I mean about not knowing how to use my sword properly.”

“Ay. Where’s yer sword?” Enys picked it up out of the corner and handed it to Dodd. “And is yer wrist better?”

“A little sore still but…”

“Ay. Draw yer sword then.”

“But…um…surely we cannot practise in such a small space…”

“No, we’re no’ practising. I wantae see something.”

Enys obediently drew his sword from the scabbard with some effort and stood there holding it like the lump of iron it was.

“Ay, I thocht so,” said Dodd, holding Enys’s wrist and lifting his arm up to squint along the blade. “It’s too big for ye and too heavy. When would ye like a lesson? I cannae do it now for I’m attending on her ladyship.”

“Perhaps this afternoon? Should I buy a new sword?”

“Not wi’out me there or they’ll cheat ye again wi’ too much weapon for ye.” Of course, in London you could simply go to an armourer’s and buy a sword instead of having to get it made for you by a blacksmith. He kept forgetting how easy life was here.

Dodd tipped his hat to Enys and trotted down the stairs again to Lady Hunsdon who smiled at him.

“What did he want?” she asked as they set off again.

“Swordschooling fra me.”

“A very good idea. I’m sure you would be an excellent teacher, sergeant, if unorthodox.”

“Ay,” He might as well agree with the hinny, even though he didn’t know for sure what unorthodox meant.

“Try and find out what Shakespeare was about for me, will you?” added Lady Hunsdon. “I’m sure it’s important.”

“Ay milady.”

“Now then. About the documents that Robin has been keeping from me.”

Dodd said nothing. There was that roguish twinkle again. She tapped his knee as well. He suddenly realised where Carey got some of his more annoying habits. “Come along, Sergeant, the pair of you managed to raid Heneage’s house a few days ago and my son could no more keep his hands off any interesting bits of paper he found there than turn down the chance of bedding some willing, married, and halfway attractive Frenchwoman. Also you searched Richard Tregian’s room for me but didn’t tell me what you found there-quite understandable in the circumstances but no longer acceptable.” She smiled at him, dimples in her rosy cheeks.