Paul Doherty - The Gallows Murders

"None whatsoever. Master Daunbey,' Mallow pleaded, ‘it is true that one of us here could have killed Hellbane, but why? True, we have heard of those proclamations pinned on the doors of churches in Westminster and Cheapside, as well as the death of poor Andrew. But, sir, we were in the Tower when all this happened, kept as close and secure as any prisoner.'

Tell me,' I asked, 'this clerk of the stores, Allardyce: did you know him well?' Mallow looked at his companions and pulled a face. 'Describe him to me,' I ordered.

‘He was tall, about your height,' the hangman replied. 'Long black curly hair, moustache and beard, thick and luxuriant which he liked to oil. He was a happy-go-lucky fellow with no known family and friends. He told us he came from Dover: his task was to keep careful account of the foodstuffs and fodder stored in the Tower. Allardyce would record what came in, how it was distributed. He would also advise the constable or Master Vetch what further supplies were needed.' 'And he fell sick?' I insisted.

'We'd all heard about the sweating sickness, but Allardyce just laughed at it. One day he came down here to break his fast. He said he felt unwell. He was shivering, the sweat coursing down his face like water. He went back to the Tower. Sir Edward Kemble was of a mind to throw him out-' 'How do you know that?' I interrupted.

Mallow pointed to Snakeroot. 'He's well named.' He grinned. "He slides along galleries and corridors and listens through half-open doors.'

Snakeroot pulled a face. ‘I heard Kemble roaring at Allardyce,' he said, 'telling him he should not have come to his chamber. The Tower has a small infirmary, nothing more than a bare cell. Kemble ordered him to go there.' 'Where is this?' I asked.

'Near Bowyer Tower, overlooking the river. There's an old woman, slightly madcap, who calls herself Ragusa. She has some knowledge of physic and looks after those of the garrison who fall ill.' He grinned. 'Sometimes, for a coin, she’ll help those lads out who haven't got a woman.' 'And did you see Allardyce there?' I asked.

'Oh, for the love of God!' Horehound snapped petulantly.

'I went to visit him.' Mallow spoke up. The infirmary's a small, two-storey building. Allardyce was on the upper floor. I went up and left a small jug of wine. The door was open. Allardyce was lying on the bed. He looked like a soaked rag.'

Benjamin drained his tankard and put it down on the table. "You have nothing to say?' he said again.

They chorused their denials once more, so we thanked them and walked out of the tavern. 'A fine collection, eh, Roger?' Agrippa teased.

'A motley group of moult worms,' I growled. ‘I don't like hangmen and that group in particular. Master, they are far too close, their answers are too smooth, well prepared. And, don't forget,' I added, 'that many of them had the education to write those letters, and enough accomplices in the city to assist their nefarious work. Perhaps everyone of them is guilty, and they all conspired to kill Undershaft and Hellbane because they objected.'

I glimpsed the doubt in Benjamin's eyes. 'Though I confess, Master, where they got the seals from and how they were able to communicate when the Tower was locked and sealed is a mystery.'

'Which brings us back to Spurge's maps,' Benjamin said.

He was about to walk on but paused. 'Roger, why did you ask about the clerk of the stores?'

I pulled a face. 'Master, I just wondered. Is it possible that Allardyce did not really die, but that his sickness and death was a sham? He leaves the Tower to act on behalf of his accomplice within?'

Benjamin smiled. We'll go back to the Tower. Roger, seek out this old woman Ragusa: have a look at the sick room. Agrippa and I will seek out Master Spurge and demand to see his maps and charts.'

When we reached the royal apartments in the Tower, Agrippa and Benjamin went down to see Spurge. I wandered across the green, past the great Norman keep. A soldier, lounging in the sunshine mending his harness, pointed out the way: I entered a deserted yard, the cobblestones cracked and overgrown with weeds. At the far end stood a small, red-brick building which had been built beside the wall. I went across, pushed open the door, and peered through the gloom.

'Have you come to be milked?' a voice crackled out of the darkness.

An old woman came forward, peering at me. By my own witness I am no beauty, but neither was she. Her hair, a dirty white, hung straggling down to bowed shoulders, her face was deathly pale. She had little black eyes and a thin slit of a mouth under a hooked nose. If I had been asked to name a witch in London, I'd have chosen Ragusa. She was dressed from head to toe in a dark, dirt-stained smock. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the sour smell, which came either from her or the shabby little room in which she lived. She laughed at me and went back in. I heard a tinder spark as she lit a squat tallow candle. The room looked better in the dark. The rushes on the floor were soiled and looked as if they hadn't been changed for months. Tawdry rags hung on the walls, and in one corner was a cot-bed with a battered trunk beside it which served as a table. There were a few sticks of furniture, and shelves lined the wall, each bearing pots, jugs and small cups, all neatly labelled. The old woman followed my gaze.

'Is it physic you need, Master?’ She whined, looking at me from head to toe. ‘Physic of the mind or the body?'

‘No, just some answers, Mother,' I replied.

'Questions cost money too.' Her face cracked in a smile. I twirled the silver coin before her eyes. She went to grab it but I pulled it away.

'What is it you want?'

The clerk, Allardyce,' I said. ‘You tended him when he was ill?

That's right, but there was little I could do for him. He came here on the Tuesday, he was dead by Thursday. Drenched in sweat, buboes in his armpits and groin.' Her thin, bony fingers clawed the air. There's no cure for that. I just gave him valerian drops to make him sleep and ease his pain.' 'And you are sure it was he?'

The old woman cackled. ‘Why shouldn't it be? Who'd pretend to have the sweating sickness, take valerian, and then offer to die? Are you witless, man?' 'But it was Allardyce?' I asked. 'Of course!' she snapped. 'And you saw him die?'

'Of course I did! I found him in the chamber upstairs.' She pointed to a flight of rickety stairs in the far corner. 'I heard a crash and went upstairs. He was half on, half off the bed, eyes open, blood drooling out of the corner of his mouth. The stench was terrible. I sent for Sir Edward Kemble.' 'And did he come?' I asked.

'Oh no, not that chicken-heart. He climbed half-way up the stairs, took one look at the chamber, and told me to throw a sheet over the man. I did. The following morning two of the soldiers took his sheeted corpse down to the death-cart at the Lion Gate. He was dead as a nail!'

I was about to turn when she caught my sleeve. 'You promised payment. The Tower has many mysteries, Master, but that poor clerk's death was not one.'

'Such as?' I asked, coming back, closing the door behind me. I dropped the silver coin into her hands and tapped my fingers against the dagger in my belt.

'Don't threaten me, Master.' She stepped back. ‘I am Ragusa, at least seventy summers old. I have seen all the great lords come tripping through here: Edward the Fourth of blessed memory, his brother Richard of York, the Duke of Buckingham, the present King's father. All come and gone like shadows in the sun.' "You saw the young Princes?' I asked curiously.

'Aye, poor boys. Oh, they were well looked after, but they were shut up in Wakefield Tower. I saw them playing on the green when their uncle seized the Crown. The elder one fell ill with an abscess in his jaw. I visited him and gave the lad tincture of cloves.' "But they were in good health?'