The Medieval Murderers - King Arthur's Bones

He need not have worried. The man – presumably this Malinferno character who rented the rooms – was making his way quietly up the stairs. Yet another reason for the constable to suspect him. Why creep up the stairs like a criminal in your own house? He tensed up, ready to leap at the presumed killer, watching as the man reached the head of the staircase. But instead of walking towards the door behind which the constable stood, the man turned the other way and opened the door to the room across the landing. Before Mayes could react, he disappeared inside the room, leaving the door open. Mayes crossed the landing quietly and pushed the door wide open. Malinferno, if it was he, was bending down under the bed that filled the small, dark room. A little embarrassed by what the man might be doing, Mayes coughed to announce his presence. Malinferno jumped up, knocking his hat against the side of the bed. It rolled across the floor and stopped at the feet of the constable.

‘What the… Oh, constable. Is there a problem?’

Malinferno had been shocked by the sudden appearance of the Bow Street Runner. Did he know about Bromhead’s death already? If so, how had he managed to track him down? And had he linked him to the murder? Malinferno thought back to that uneasy feeling he had had since leaving Bermondsey. A feeling that he was being followed. Put together with the incident of the peeping Tom at Madam De Trou’s bawdy house, it added up to a worrying business. But a Runner in his uniform following him would have stuck out like a sore thumb, wouldn’t he? And, furthermore, what did he know, if anything, about King Arthur’s bones languishing under Malinferno’s bed? He decided to brazen it out about Augustus, but keep quiet about the bones until he knew for sure what the Runner knew.

‘The death is a very unfortunate matter, I am sure. Have you found the body yet?’

Mayes’s eyes narrowed, assessing the brass neck of this man, who was practically admitting he did away with the girl.

‘Oh, yes, we’ve found the body, sir. Did you think it was going to be difficult?’

‘Well, where was it, then?’

Malinferno was deeply puzzled. The Runner seemed to think he knew where Bromhead’s body was going to be. Did he suspect him of the murder? He hoped not. Mayes hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

‘Where was it? Where you might have expected it to be, sir. In your drawing room.’

Malinferno gasped, the stuffing knocked out of him. ‘In my…? Show me.’

The constable stood aside and ushered Malinferno across the landing, a superior smirk on his face. He couldn’t see how the gent was going to talk his way out of this one. He followed Malinferno through the door and into the room opposite. Malinferno stood as if transfixed, his mouth moving though no words came out.

‘Bit of a mess, isn’t it, sir?’

‘But this isn’t Augustus. It’s… it’s…’

He almost didn’t recognize her at first because now her face was pale and slack. But in life she had not been all that animated, and despite the grisly wound and the splashes of blood, he could make out the pinched features of the rat-faced girl. But he couldn’t for the life of him reason how she came to be a bloodied corpse in his own drawing room.

‘Augustus, sir? Who’s he?’

The constable’s ominous tones woke Malinferno from his stupor. It seemed as though the man was mentally totting up the possible murders that Malinferno was guilty of perpetrating.

‘Augustus? No, you misunderstand. He’s a friend… who is sort of missing. When you mentioned a death, I thought…’

‘I think it was you who brought up the matter of a death first, sir. You had better explain where you have been all night.’

‘He was with me, constable. And a merry time he gave me too. Though I would prefer it if my husband didn’t get to learn about it.’

The voice was that of a lady, and the tone peremptory. Mayes turned to face the speaker, a blush already growing on his cheeks. It was the woman he had seen in the street returning with Malinferno. He had put her down as a common bawd, and close up her dress wasn’t the most modest, with a hint of exposed bosoms beneath the muslin gown. But that was what he had come to expect of the upper classes now. When the Prince Regent himself chased mistresses all over the place, and the Princess, his wife, carried on with Italians abroad, you had to expect the rest of the nobs to be just as ill behaved. He turned his prudish gaze away from the lady’s heaving bosom, and looked down at his own boots in embarrassment. Doll Pocket cast a glance at the astonished Malinferno and winked raffishly.

‘Now, if you will allow this gentleman to accompany me home, we will be on our way. The streets of London are not a safe place for a lady, you know, even in daylight. Full of rogues, bawds, swindlers and grubbers, if you ask me.’

Mayes was thoroughly cowed, and for once wished Pauncefoot was in evidence. The constable felt awkward when having to deal with someone from a higher station in life than he was. And a female at that too.

‘Yes, madam. I could not agree more. Rogues and itinerants. Though we Runners do our best, you know.’

Doll waved a ladylike hand, dismissing the constable from her consideration.

‘I am sure you do. Now, Mr Malinferno has had a shock and will need to rest. Please arrange to remove the body and have his room cleaned up. Come, Joseph.’

Like a little poodle, Malinferno followed after Doll’s imperious and very petite heels. When they had gone, Mayes hurried downstairs to find Pauncefoot and to arrange for the disposal of the gory mess in Malinferno’s drawing room. Neither Malinferno or Doll Pocket, nor the constable and the magistrate noticed the shadowy figure lurking at the end of Creechurch Lane, waiting for matters to quieten down before he made his move.

‘And where did that accent come from, Miss Pocket? I almost didn’t recognize you.’

Doll giggled and hugged Malinferno’s arm. On escaping the clutches of the Runners they had walked along the Embankment and into the heart of London. They had found themselves in Piccadilly, and Doll had dragged Malinferno to the Egyptian Hall at number 22. They were now standing outside, gazing at the ornate frontage, which was designed in the form of temple pylons with statues representing Isis and Osiris. Doll was not to be distracted by Malinferno’s question though.

‘Get yer ’and into yer pocket, Joe. It’s only a shilling a head.’

Malinferno sighed and paid up. Soon they were lost in the obscurity of the crowds who thronged the aisles of William Bullock’s exhibition. In the natural history section they marvelled at the central panorama of stuffed animals, including an elephant, a rhinoceros, a zebra and two ostriches. A realistic copy of a palm tree with a serpent climbing up it hung its fronds over the creatures. But Doll was interested in other curiosities.

‘They say they have Napoleon’s carriage taken at Waterloo on show, Joe. Can we see it?’

Malinferno allowed himself to be dragged to the room where the carriage stood. Doll was like a child absorbing all the wonderful sights and drinking them in. The Napoleonic relics only served to remind Malinferno of Bromhead’s disappearance, and the bones he had promised to locate for Thomas Dale. If anyone was to call King Arthur to arms to save England from old Boney, then the bones under his bed were needed. He had come within an ace of collecting them before the Runner had interrupted.

‘I learn accents quick. When I was young I wanted to be an actress.’

Malinferno realized Doll was answering his earlier question about her impersonation of a lady.

‘You seem to learn lots of things quickly, Miss Pocket.’

Doll snorted. ‘I don’t know about that. But I was a lady’s maid for six months and got to know how my lady spoke. Then I was sacked when she learned that her husband was paying me too much attention. A girl without work has to learn how to fend for herself quick enough, and that’s the truth.’