Andrew Swanston - The King's Spy

‘Who?’

‘Captain Francis Fayne, the man whose room this used to be. And there’s another thing. I’ve walked down the lane where Erasmus Pole was found, and I don’t believe he would have gone there at night. He was murdered elsewhere and his body left in the lane. The coroner wouldn’t have bothered with just another dead body there. What’s more, both Pole and Abraham had their throats cut. The same method of killing. The same killer.’

‘Thomas,’ said Simon when Thomas had finished, ‘even if Tobias Rush is a traitor and a murderer, all you have is supposition. Supposition, not proof. If the king is to be persuaded of the guilt of one of his closest advisers, absolute proof will be needed. He trusts Rush implicitly.’

‘And how are we to get proof? The man’s cunning and devious. Proof will not be easy to come by.’

‘We’ll have to think of a plan. Meanwhile, we must find you a safe haven.’

‘I didn’t know the king had left Oxford again. Where is he now?’

‘I don’t know. A secret rendezvous somewhere. He must have needed Rush urgently. Her majesty is despondent. She always fears the worst when the king is away. It’s her nature.’

‘So what do you propose?’

‘When it’s dark, we’ll slip out of Pembroke and go to Merton. You can stay in my rooms tonight. Even Rush wouldn’t dare enter the rooms of the queen’s priest without permission. Until then we’ll stay here.’

‘I have to visit the coroner tomorrow morning to identify Abraham’s body.’

‘In that case, I shall accompany you there. Then we’ll think of a way to get you home.’

‘Simon,’ said Thomas, ‘there’s one more thing. I’ve made some progress on the cipher. Given time, I think I may be able to decrypt it. I must stay here until I have. And, in any case, Rush’s long arm will certainly reach Romsey. I’m safer here.’

‘What about your family?’

‘I worry for them day and night. I’ve had no word from them. Rush offered to have my letter delivered to them, but I doubt it ever got there. Yet they’re probably safer without me. If Rush’s men came calling for me, they would all be in danger. I want to go home, but Abraham’s death has changed things. He thought this message was important and he was right. I must decrypt it.’

‘If that’s what you want, Thomas. Now, Rush or not, there is a vicious murderer in Oxford, so we’ll stay here until dark. Would you care to show me the cipher and what you’ve been able to do?’

Better to keep the mind occupied, thought Thomas, as Simon well knows. ‘Very well, I’ll explain.’

It was a long afternoon. When darkness eventually fell they left the room together, taking only the message and Thomas’s papers. The courtyard was empty and Simon diverted Silas’s attention while Thomas slipped out, then joined him outside the gate. Even Silas must not know where Thomas was going. They walked quickly to Merton, taking care to keep their distance from anyone passing in the street. At Merton, Simon took Thomas to his room in the little quadrangle behind the chapel, and left him there while he went to arrange for food and drink, and to find a pallet for Thomas’s bed.

Thomas slept little. The image of sightless, eyeless Abraham, his chest and face bloody, his hands tied and his throat cut, had imprinted itself on his mind. It was a different sort of horror, and even more terrible than what he had seen at Newbury. Abraham had been his friend. He might have admitted to knowing about the message or he might not. It was of no account. The old man had suffered beyond imagining, and Thomas could do nothing about it. He could only grieve.

Simon, too, slept little. He asked Thomas to repeat the account of his being knocked down in the street, and he asked about Rush’s questions relating to Thomas’s work. He gave Thomas the impression that he knew something more, something not even Abraham had known. He did not say what, and Thomas lacked the will to ask. Simon would tell him if he wanted to.

Next morning, having hidden the papers in Simon’s Bible, they left Merton for the coroner’s house. In order not to attract attention, Simon walked well behind Thomas, and kept an eye out for danger. At the corner of Cornmarket and Ship Street, where the coroner’s house stood, Thomas suddenly stopped and ducked into a doorway. Not knowing why, Simon did the same, and waited until Thomas emerged before going on. Thomas waited for him to catch up.

‘It was Rush, Simon. He’s back. I saw him leaving the coroner’s house.’

‘Did he see you?’

‘I don’t think so. He was hurrying.’

‘Good. Well, you’ll have to visit the coroner or he’ll be suspicious. I’ll wait outside for you.’

When Thomas knocked on the coroner’s door, it was opened immediately. Henry Pearson was waiting for him. Without saying a word, he led Thomas to a back room, empty but for a low table on which lay Abraham’s body, covered by a grey cloth. Pearson raised the cloth. ‘Do you recognize this man?’ he asked briskly.

‘I do. It’s Abraham Fletcher.’

Pearson replaced the cloth and ushered Thomas out of the room. Indicating for Thomas to follow him, he opened the door to another room and went in. This too was bare of furniture but for a small desk and two chairs.

‘While you are here, Master Hill,’ said Pearson, ‘I have some questions to ask you.’ He remained standing and did not offer Thomas a chair.

‘Very well,’ replied Thomas, ‘although I believe I have told you everything I know.’

‘That we shall soon ascertain. I have examined the body and established the cause of death as the severing of the deceased’s windpipe with a very sharp blade. The cut was clean. Before he died, his face and chest were cut with the same weapon, and his eyes removed, probably also with the same blade. The eyes were not at the scene of the murder. There are marks on his wrists consistent with their being tied with rope, no doubt in order to restrain him. There are also signs that a rag or cloth was stuffed into his mouth to prevent his crying out.’

Thomas felt his knees give, and reached for a chair to steady himself. The coroner ignored his distress.

‘Can you confirm that you were the first to find the body?’

‘I can. Silas Merkin and I.’

‘Quite. You used Merkin’s key to enter the room?’

‘We did. When there was no answer to my knock, I fetched him.’

‘Were you surprised that there was no answer?’

‘I was. Abraham was blind, but his hearing was good. And he seldom left his rooms.’

‘Why were you calling on him?’

‘Abraham taught me mathematics and philosophy. He was a good friend and a fine scholar. I came to Oxford to visit him before he died. We spent the mornings together discussing philosophy and books.’ It was the story they had agreed.

‘I see. And how long have you been in Oxford?’

‘I arrived some four weeks ago.’

‘Indeed? A long visit.’

‘I enjoy Oxford, even in time of war, and I enjoyed Abraham’s company. I am unmarried. I saw no need to hurry home.’

‘Where is your home, Master Hill?’

‘I live in the town of Romsey, in Hampshire.’

‘A long journey, not to be lightly undertaken.’

‘Long enough. The more reason not to make it again too soon.’

‘I believe Master Fletcher was killed during the night before he was found. Perhaps six hours earlier. Where were you at that time?’

‘Asleep in my room, naturally.’ Thomas was fast losing patience. ‘Master Pearson, do you suspect me of this unspeakable crime? For heaven’s sake, Abraham Fletcher was my friend.’

‘So you say. I am of the opinion that the murderer resided in the college. A stranger would have been noticed.’