Paul Doherty - The White Rose murders

I pointed to the manuscript. 'This confession mentions one new name?'

Benjamin nodded. 'Yes, yes, my dear Roger, the knight Harrington but he is not important. Like poor Irvine or Ruthven, Harrington was just another victim of our murderer's great malice.'

I studied Benjamin closely. 'Master, is there anything else?'

Benjamin made a face. 'For the moment, Roger, I have shown you all you need to know.' He rose and stretched. 'We have the evidence, what we need to do now is trap the murderer.'

'How can we do that?'

Benjamin shrugged. 'Reveal a little of what we know and choose a place, lonely and deserted, where the murderer, wanting to silence us, will make his presence felt.' Benjamin walked and leaned against the wall staring out through one of the arrow slits. 'It can't be here,' he murmured. 'Or in London.'

I rose and stood beside him. 'I know a place nearby, Master, where we could set our trap and watch the murderer fall into it.'

Benjamin gazed around as if the very walls had ears. 'It could be dangerous, Roger.'

I shrugged. 'Master, we suspect who the murderer may be. We have proof but we must make him show his hand.

[I see the clerk sniggering, he thinks my courage was bravado, perhaps it was.]

However, my master took me at my word and gently patted my shoulder.

'Then so be it, Roger.' He murmured. 'So be it.'

We did not go down to the hall for dinner that evening but had a servant bring us cold meats and a jug of watered wine from the garrison kitchen. We spent the night like two artificers planning a subtle masque or Twelfth Night game but at last we were agreed. The next morning we left the Tower and went past St Mary Grace's Church to the fields which stretched north from Hog Street to Aldgate, a deserted barren area like the blasted heath in one of Will Shakespeare's plays. Now, in the middle of these wild moorlands was an old, derelict church, once dedicated to St Theodore of Tarsus.

In more prosperous times there had been a village there but, since the Great Plague, all had decayed. The village had gone and the church was in disrepair. The roof had been stripped, the nave stood open to the elements, the chancel screen was long gone to some builder's yard whilst the sanctuary was only discernible by the steps and stone plinth on which the altar had once rested. To the right of the nave, in one of the aisles, were steps leading down to a darkened crypt. Benjamin and I went down these. Surprisingly, the door was still there. We pushed it open on its creaking, rusty hinges and found the crypt dark and deserted except for the squeaking of mice and the rustling wings of some bird nesting on the sill of the open window high in the wall. A rank, fetid place, sombre and cold, I sensed it was full of ghosts. In the far corner were decaying tombs with effigies on top, knights clasping their swords, now crumbling to a white powdered dust. I looked around and shivered. 'This will do, Master?'

Benjamin smiled thinly. 'Yes, Roger, it will. Not for tonight but certainly tomorrow!'

We stayed away from the Tower for most of the day. Benjamin visited a distant relative in Axe Street near the Priory of St Helen but we made sure we were back in the Tower for the evening meal. Queen Margaret and all her retinue were there: Catesby, full of his own importance, issuing orders, loudly declaring how they would be on the road north before the Feast of the Annunciation. Agrippa looked quiet and withdrawn. Melford and the rest chose to ignore us but Benjamin and I, like good actors, had learnt our lines and so waited. Of course, Scawsby, as expected, rose to the bait.

'Master Benjamin,' he asked gaily, 'when we are gone, what then?'

Benjamin shrugged. 'God knows, Master Scawsby. My uncle the Lord Cardinal may have other tasks for us. Once, of course, we have finished this one.'

Benjamin's quiet words stilled the clamour.

'What do you mean?' Carey barked.

Benjamin smiled and turned back to his food.

'Yes,' Agrippa spoke up, 'what do you mean, Master Daunbey?'

'He means,' I said, standing up, 'that we know the mystery behind Selkirk's poem. We know also how Selkirk, Ruthven, Irvine and Moodie died!'

Well, you could have heard a needle drop. They all sat rigid, like figures in a painting: Queen Margaret, a cup hovering half-way to her lips, Catesby about to speak to her, the Careys with their mouths wide open. Melford, Agrippa and Scawsby just sat pop-eyed. The only exceptions were the two Highlanders but they sensed that what I was saying was important. I have never enjoyed myself so much in my life! Agrippa was the first to stir.

'Do explain, Roger,' he said silkily. 'Pray do.'

'When I was in Paris,' I lied, 'I did not find Selkirk's secret but something more important – a man who fought with the late James IV of Scotland at Flodden.'

Benjamin looked strangely at me as I strayed from the agreed text.

'This man,' I continued meaningfully, 'was with James until he died.'

'Who is he?' Queen Margaret rasped, half-rising out of her chair. 'What are you talking about?'

'Oh, he's here in London, Your Grace. Soon we will meet him. He has enough evidence to prove what he says is the truth.'

Now Benjamin rose and took me by the arm. 'You have said enough, Roger. We must go.'

We both swept out of the hall, trying hard to hide our excitement at the dangerous game we were playing. Benjamin pushed me across the bailey.

'Why did you mention this person?' he demanded crossly. 'We did not agree to that.'

I smiled. 'We now play a dangerous game, Master. Fortune has dealt us each a hand. We discovered the truth by chance, so let chance still have some say in what will happen.'

Benjamin agreed though he was both anxious and angry. 'We cannot stay in the Tower,' he murmured. 'The murderer may strike now and finish the game.'

So we packed our saddle bags, Benjamin managing to draw from the Tower stores two small crossbows and an arbalest as well as fresh swords and daggers. We left the fortress. Benjamin told me to stay at a small ale-house near the postern gate and slipped away. I whiled away the time eyeing the bright-cheeked young slattern and trying to persuade her oafish swain to hazard a few coins at dice. At last I got bored and sat back, sipping from a black jack of ale and remembering what we had learnt from Selkirk's confession.

[Oh, I wish my chaplain would stop interrupting. I'll tell him what it said in due course!]

I could scarcely believe it and wondered what had become of the knight Selkirk mentioned, Sir John Harrington. I also relished my own subtle trickery and hoped its victim would fall meekly into the prepared trap. Suddenly I recalled my mother and one of her favourite sayings, a quotation from the Psalms: 'He fell into a snare which he had prepared for others.' I took another gulp from the black jack of ale and hoped this would not happen to me. Once again I scrutinised what I'd planned. No, the plot was primed. All we had to do was keep our nerve.

After a while Benjamin returned. His face looked white and drawn but his eyes were feverish with excitement.

'Where have you been?' I snapped.

He stared innocently back.

'To see the Queen, of course.'

I groaned. 'What for, Master? We agreed to leave that fat bitch well alone.'

Benjamin grimaced. 'I had to, Roger,' he muttered. 'You have been thinking of Selkirk's confession?'

I nodded.

'Well, all I did was ask her about Sir John Harrington, a Scottish knight who fought with her husband.' He grinned. 'Let's be on our way!

'I also told Doctor Agrippa about our meeting place,' he muttered as we slipped down a darkened alleyway.

'Was that wise?' I asked.

'We shall see,' he replied. 'As you said, Roger, Agrippa may be the murderer so he must know where the last act of the play is to take place.'