Paul Doherty - The Gallows Murders

Benjamin scraped back his chair, stood up and walked over to the window. There's a killer in the Tower,' he said softly, speaking over his shoulder. 'A man whose real name is Robert Sakker.'

I gazed round quickly: Mallow and his executioners looked disconcerted. 'Sakker!' Toadflax exclaimed. ‘Here in the Tower!' Who is this man?' Kemble demanded.

'He was an outlaw, the only surviving member of a gang who terrorised pilgrims going to Canterbury,' Benjamin replied. 'Mallow and his confederates hanged the rest of his family. Robert Sakker has returned to wage war against these executioners.' Benjamin walked back to the table. 'Somehow, Master Constable, I believe Robert Sakker is involved in the blackmailing letters being sent to the King.'

'But there's no Sakker on the muster roll,' Kemble retorted. 'I, alone, am responsible for that!'

Benjamin shrugged. The felon's probably using another name. Under-sheriff Pelleter described him as a tall, red-haired man with a scar across his chin.' ‘I have seen no one like that,' Vetch replied, 'either amongst the garrison or the servants.'

'Or the masons working on the wall,' Spurge spoke up.

Kemble, balancing a quill between his fingers, sat back in his chair, staring narrow-eyed at Benjamin. 'But you, Master Daunbey, believe he is in the Tower?'

‘Yes I do,' my master replied. 'And that wouldn't be hard, now the gates are opened.'

‘But he would need a pass, or the guards would refuse him entrance,' Kemble pointed out.

'Well, I believe he's here,' Benjamin said once more. 'And last night he went hunting poor Wormwood. Master Mallow, Wormwood had been drinking, yes?' The chief hangman nodded.

'So.' Benjamin took his seat. 'Let's just imagine Wormwood staggering round the Tower in the dark, in very much the same condition as poor Horehound. Somehow or other, he is lured into some dark corner. He's knocked on the head, his body dragged and strapped to the rack. The man's half-conscious, drunk, gagged! Small wonder we heard no screams. Whoever killed him must have enjoyed every second!' Benjamin drummed his fingers on the table-top. 'It must be Sakker!' He glanced across where the sunlight was pouring through a half-open window. 'Sir Edward, I want you and your officers to scrutinise every man in the Tower. You have Sakker's description. I want guards put on every postern-gate.' ‘You can't order-!'

‘Yes, I can,' Benjamin replied. 'Or I'll ride to Windsor and bring the King himself back here.'

Kemble hastily agreed. 'You say he's red-haired, scarred?' "Yes, across his chin,' Benjamin replied.

Now I had been sitting there, as usual, watching everybody. God knows the workings of my own mind, but the mention of Sakker's scar made me think of Greene. You may remember, Sir Thomas More said he was one of the murderers who killed the little Princes. According to Agrippa, Greene had an ugly red scar across his wrist. I remembered being back in our parish church at Ipswich when I had been baiting the Poppletons. Old Quicksilver, outside in the graveyard, hands stretching out to take the purse, the way he covered his wrists, then his drunken boasting about serving in the Tower when the Princes were confined. I was so excited, I sprang to my feet, clapping my hands in glee.

The rogue! The villain!' I exclaimed. The sparrow-turd! The ancient pig's-dropping!'

'What on earth?' Kemble half rose from his chair. 'Master Daunbey, has your servant lost his wits?'

Benjamin was staring at me curiously. 'What is it?' my master asked.

And then I made my terrible mistake. Oh, I have these bright flashes of intuition, a keenness of wit, a prodigious memory, but I also babble too much, I know that. And that day was no different: I sat down chattering like a child. 'Master, you remember Dr Quicksilver?' 'How could I forget?' Benjamin caustically replied.

'He's a quack, a cunning man,' I explained to the rest of my bemused companions. 'He was always boasting about what he did in his glorious past. Now I rejected it because Quicksilver is a liar, born and bred.'

"What on earth has this got to do with the matter in hand?' Vetch snapped.

I explained. 'Quicksilver is well past his sixtieth year. However, he once told me that he visited the Tower when the Princes were imprisoned here. He talked of secret passageways and chambers. I dismissed this as mere ranting, but I also noticed he kept his hands and wrists always covered. No matter what he did or where he went, his wrists were always hidden.'

Benjamin clapped me on the shoulder. 'Of course, Roger.' He squeezed my shoulder, his face wreathed in smiles. 'According to beloved Uncle, Greene had an ugly scar on his wrist. You are saying Greene and Quicksilver are one and the same?'

'I do,' I replied. 'Sir Edward,' I glanced at the constable, who slumped, half-bored, in his chair, 'of your goodness, please send a message to Under-sheriff Pelleter in Catte Street. Ask him to inform his bailiffs and criers throughout the city that a charlatan known as Dr Quicksilver is to be arrested immediately'

Kemble's fat face threatened to turn sour, clearly resentful at having to take orders from the likes of me.

'Do it!' Benjamin ordered. 'And it must be done quickly. Master Shallot and I are to meet the under-sheriff very soon; there's no time to lose!'

Kemble nodded at Vetch, who hastened from the chamber.

'And what about us?' Mallow wailed. 'If Sakker is hunting us, how safe can we be?'

‘You are in the Tower,' I snarled, 'the king's principal fortress. You should heed my master's advice. Go nowhere by yourself

We'd best go,' Snakeroot whispered. Wormwood at least deserves a Christian burial.'

‘Your numbers are declining, Master Mallow,' Spurge taunted.

The chief executioner stopped and gazed hatefully at the King's surveyor of works.

'Oh, don't worry about that, Master Spurge. Haven't you heard the old proverb: for every villain there'll always be a hangman?' And, with his two apprentices trailing behind him, Mallow strode out of the chamber.

Benjamin waited until he had gone, then whispered for the piece of parchment Mistress Undershaft had given us. I passed this to him and he tossed it to the constable.

'Sir Edward, does that drawing mean anything to you?'

Kemble opened the parchment, smoothing it out on the table-top.

'A rough drawing of the Tower,' he muttered. 'And the letter ‘T". Master Daunbey, what is this nonsense?' 'Master Spurge?' Benjamin asked.

The surveyor grabbed the piece of parchment, studied it, shook his head and passed it back. 'What does it mean?' Kemble asked.

‘I don't know, Sir Edward, but when I find out…' And Benjamin rose, indicating for me to follow him from the chamber.

‘I think I know who the assassin is,' Benjamin whispered as we went down the stairs and out into the sunlight. 'Roger.' He gently tapped my chin. 'Close your mouth or you'll catch flies!' ‘You know who the assassin is?' I gasped. 'So do you,' Benjamin replied. 'It's Master Spurge!' 'Spurge!' I exclaimed.

'He's the surveyor, Roger. He knows all the secret entrances.'

'But we've seen his map, Benjamin,' I replied. There was nothing hidden there. Remember when the villain collected the gold in the city, when I was pushed into the wolf-pit, when Horehound was crushed to death; Spurge was always elsewhere.'

'Of course he was.' Benjamin linked his arm through mine and walked me back across the green to our chamber. "What I am saying is that there must be a secret gate or postern-door which Spurge deliberately omitted from that map: probably overlooking the moat or the river. Somehow or other, Spurge struck up an unholy alliance with this Sakker, whom he can bring in and out of the Tower whenever he so wishes. Sakker was watching you that day near the wolf-pit. He also killed Undershaft, Horehound and Hellbane, as well as poor Wormwood. He collected the gold at St Paul's. He also delivered those blackmailing letters and proclamations to frighten the King.'