Paul Doherty - The Gallows Murders

Anyway, on that day we returned, hot and dusty, to the Tower. We were almost through the Lion Gateway when a woman stepped out of the shadows and caught me by the arm.

‘Mistress Undershaft,' I exclaimed, though in truth I felt no pleasure: after seeing the marvellous Miranda it was like comparing candlelight to the sun.

‘Master Shallot,' she whispered, 'Master Daunbey. I have something to show you.' She gazed fearfully around. 'I have heard about Horehound's death.' She continued hurriedly. ‘I need to speak to you, repay you for your kindness.'

She took us back out, across the drawbridge, and down near the river. I gazed around but, apart from fishermen sitting on the quayside mending their nets, and an old beggar man pushing a barrow laden with half-ripe apples, I could see no one to be wary of.

‘Let's stroll,' Benjamin suggested, 'as if we were taking the air and enjoying the afternoon sunlight.'

Mistress Undershaft agreed, though she first pushed a square of parchment into Benjamin's hand. ‘I went amongst my husband's belongings, looking for something which might help you.'

Benjamin opened the parchment. He studied it, then passed it to me. It was nothing much, a square about nine inches by nine, yellow and greasy, the ink marks poor and faded. A rough drawing of the Tower: underneath, a shape like the letter ‘I, with a cross where the two lines met. Next to this was a large question mark. ·What does it mean?' she asked Benjamin. ‘I don't know, Mistress.'

'Neither do I.' I pushed the parchment into my pouch. ‘What makes you think it's so important?'

‘Oh, at first I didn't,' Mistress Undershaft replied. She kept gazing fearfully around, as if someone might be watching her. ‘I was going to throw it into the fire. After all, Andrew often made drawings of one of his carvings or some piece of furniture. However, I remembered the day after the King's party, Andrew was in the garden. He liked to sit there admiring the flowers. On that particular morning, he was poring over that piece of parchment, as if it held some great secret. When I asked him what it meant, he shook his head and mumbled it was best not to know. For the rest of that day he was withdrawn.' She stopped. 'Masters, that's all I can tell you.'

And, before we could stop her, she slipped away along the quayside. Benjamin and I went and sat on a small, grassy bank overlooking the river. I pulled out the scrap of parchment and stared at it.

There's a rough drawing of the Tower,' I declared, ‘but that holds no secret.' I pushed it closer so my master could see it. 'And there's the letter ‘T’, done in square fashion, the lines scored time and time again.'

'And what do these mean?' Benjamin pointed to the stem of the "T, where small dashes marked the right-hand side.

‘I don't know,' I said. rYet it disturbed Undershaft and set him wondering. Perhaps he was the executioner who saw something untoward that night?'

Benjamin lay back on the grass and stared up at the fleecy clouds.

This is luxury, Roger,' he murmured. 'A warm day: listen to the bees humming. The river is quiet, the sky is blue. I have just met the fairest lady in the world.' He sat up and rubbed his face. 'Every Paradise has its serpent.' He leaned over and tapped the parchment still in my hands. 'And this is the very devil. Now, Roger, I agree something happened during those festivities. But remember they were held not in the Tower proper but in the royal apartments: the mystery lies there. But come!' He got to his feet. ‘We have a hard day tomorrow'

We returned to the Tower and managed to beg some dried bacon, bread and wine from the kitchens. We sat outside and ate. Benjamin was still taken by Miranda, though now and again he would return to ponder the problems confronting us. I grew tired of his company. When he returned to our chamber, I mooned about like a love-lorn swain, though I stayed in full view of the guards: I hadn't forgotten the recent attack on me. I joined some soldiers and drank their coarse ale before staggering back to my chamber. Benjamin was already asleep. I threw myself down on the straw mattress, blissfully unaware of the horrors which were to occur that night.

Benjamin must have got up early the following morning. He was already washing and changing when a clamour broke out on the stairs outside. Vetch's pounding on our door sent me scurrying, heavy-eyed, from my bed.

"You'd best come!' Vetch declared hoarsely. He glanced quickly at me. 'And, if your stomach's fickle, you'd best hold your mouth!'

We went downstairs, across the mist-shrouded green and into the base of Bowyer Tower. It was very much like the cellar we had visited at the Beauchamp, but this one was well-lit by torches. Kemble and Spurge stood just within the doorway, as did a pallid-faced Mallow.

At first, because my head wasn't clear, all I could see was a faint figure in the gloom, lying on what I thought was a bed. When I went down the steps and looked more carefully, I realised the full horror of the scene. Now many of you young men have seen hangings and decapitations, men quartered and disembowelled, but a man stretched out on 'Exeter's daughter' is a most hideous sight. (Oh, excuse me if I digress! My little chaplain is quite ignorant as to what 'Exeter's daughter' is. According to legend, during the reign of Henry VI, the Duke of Exeter introduced the rack into England, hence the name.) The rack was shaped like a bed with posts at each end. On that sun-filled morning, in the centre of the rack, sprawled Wormwood's body. Someone had slipped his wrists and ankles into the loops of heavy hempen rope, and then turned the wheel at either end, so the rack stretched, cracking muscle and sinew. Wormwood's face was a mask of indescribable horror; eyes popping, mouth open. His legs had been stretched, one arm had been pulled out of its socket. His entire torso looked as if it had been pummelled and beaten. I rushed back up the steps and cleared my stomach of what was left of that stale ale. Benjamin, though as gentle as a fawn, found such sights easy to stomach: he and the rest later joined me outside where I crouched, my back to the wall, gulping air. 'Who did that?' I stammered.

'I don't know.' Kemble scratched his unshaven cheek. 'Very much like Horehound. A young girl found the door open and went inside. The torches were lit, Wormwood's body lay stretched on the rack. The rest you know.'

'And no one heard anything?' Benjamin exclaimed. 'Such cruelty would have provoked the most hideous of shrieks. It's a wonder he wasn't heard in Petty Wales.'

‘I have already investigated that,' Kemble replied. The guards on the ramparts heard nothing but an owl shriek.'

Other members of the garrison were now hurrying across.

This is not the place to discuss it,' Kemble muttered. ‘Vetch, Spurge, Master Daunbey, we shall meet in my quarters.' He turned and went down the steps where Mallow stood, leaning against the door. ‘I want the members of your guild to join us.' Kemble ordered.

Mallow nodded, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. I hastened back to our quarters where I hurriedly shaved, washed and changed my soiled jerkin, then joined the rest in Kemble's chamber. 'How could this have happened?' the constable began. Mallow and his hangmen, grouped in a frightened cluster at the foot of the table, mumbled under their breath.

'Well?' Vetch barked. 'Are you going to answer the constable's question?'

'Oh, don't come the high and mighty with us!' Snakeroot snapped. We were all in the Tower last night. Wormwood was alive – drunk, but very much alive!' Who saw him last?' Vetch asked.

We were all drinking outside Bowyer Tower,' Toadflax replied. Then we went to our quarters. After that, you know as much as we do. Why?' He leaned on the table. 'Are you going to claim Wormwood was killed by one of us? Sir Edward, you were in the Tower last night, as were Vetch and Spurge.' His eyes slid towards us. "Not to mention our guests.'