The Medieval Murderers - King Arthur's Bones

With his revenge on Malinferno complete, the spy turned to leave, his dramatic exit spoiled somewhat by the limp occasioned by his tumble from the railings at Madam De Trou’s. Raleigh Pauncefoot and Constable Mayes followed on his heels, leaving Malinferno to deal with the now-wary Thomas Dale. He laughed unconvincingly.

‘The book he referred to is probably my copy of the work by Baron Denon on the discoveries made in Egypt during Bonaparte’s campaigns. I am an Egyptologist, you know.’

‘Indeed, sir.’ Dale’s brow was clouded, and it looked like he now viewed his erstwhile employee as someone it was dangerous to be associated with. Especially if he was to be promoting his new wrought-iron coffin with the well-to-do. ‘I am sure you are right. A book by a French nobleman, you say? In French? Hmm. Well, now, as the matter I had paid you for appears to be no longer of any urgency, I think we can terminate our relationship forthwith. Please do not bother to return any balance of accounts to me. Accept any money left as a just reward for your efforts.’

Malinferno breathed a sigh of relief. It was just as well Dale did not want any money back, as most of it had gone anyway in expenses incurred in the company of Doll Pocket. They took their leave of Dale, who disappeared back into his fiery furnace, and began retracing their steps to the beginning of this sorry saga – Malinferno’s rooms, the place where the bones had been first lost. As they walked up Leadenhall Street, Malinferno was so deep in thought he began to drag Doll along at an ever-increasing pace. Outside the door to Mrs Stanhope’s, she stopped him.

‘’ere! Pack it in… my slipper’s coming off.’

Holding on to Joe, she bent down to pull on her leather slipper, the back of which had worked off her heel. It was late at night now, and she was glad of the yellowish light cast by the streetlamp to see by. Hopping on one foot, and clutching Joe’s Garrick coat, she suddenly felt him pull away.

‘Look out, or you’ll have me over on my arse.’

‘Doll, look at the upstairs window. What do you see?’

‘What the ’ell you goin’ on about?’

‘Just look.’

She straightened up and looked at where he was pointing. A flickering light shone in one of the upper windows of the house. Malinferno looked scared, their previous encounter with Crouch having drained away all his courage. Doll snorted in disgust, though in truth she was not feeling all that brave herself.

‘There’s someone in your rooms. Well, come on, then. Let’s take a look. It can’t be a ghost – I don’t believe in them.’

What they saw in Malinferno’s rooms challenged her assertion for a while.

But first Malinferno had to sneak Doll past the beady eye and sharp ear of Mrs Stanhope. However, as soon as Malinferno opened the front door, he realized it was to be an easy task. He had not seen that recently his landlady’s days had been full of horror and terrible encounters, what with dead bodies, blood ruining decent rugs, and Bow Street Runners everywhere. She had blanked out these irregular events with a strong dosage of Holland gin. She was deep in the arms of Lethe, and snoring like a pig. The reverberations carried from her quarters to Joe’s and Doll’s ears as they entered cautiously. Malinferno breathed a sigh of relief, and led Doll up the elegant but rather shabby curved staircase towards his rooms. He stopped her at the top of the stairs and peered across the landing. The door to his drawing room was slightly ajar, and a pale light shone through the crack. Someone had lighted one of his oil-lamps. It was a strange thing for a burglar to do. Or a murderer lying in wait.

Doll obviously thought the same. She edged past him and crossed the landing on her slippered feet before Malinferno could stop her. She pushed the door quietly open. Malinferno was at her back, both hands on her shoulders. What he saw made him gasp.

‘It’s Augustus!’

The body of the dwarfish little man lay sprawled in his comfortable armchair by the bow window, his large head lolling unnaturally over the side. Malinferno was wondering how he was going to explain a second body in his rooms when Augustus gave a great sigh and shifted in the chair.

‘Augustus, damn you. You’re alive.’

Malinferno’s loud cry of relief woke the slumbering Bromhead, who started up and flung himself towards the window. Then he saw the person who had awakened him and stopped his headlong flight. He held his hand to his heart.

‘Oh, it’s only you, Giuseppe. Thank God for that.’

‘Augustus, where have you been? We thought you were dead.’

‘Dead? I would have been, if I had stayed in my house much longer. As to where I have been, I have been walking the streets of London and sleeping under archways with the beggars.’

For the first time Malinferno noticed how shabby Bromhead’s clothes were. His cutaway coat was torn at the lapel, and mud stained its tails. His breeches were wrinkled and grubby, his stockings torn. Malinferno turned to Doll and slipped the remaining money from Dale’s fee into her hand.

‘Go down to Leadenhall Market. There are chophouses there open all night for the meat porters. Get poor Gus some food and a jug of ale if you can manage it. I don’t think he has eaten for a while.’

Doll nodded and wound her cloak around her bosom. It was getting quite cold outside. When she had gone, Malinferno guided the antiquarian to the armchair again. Bromhead fell back into it with a sigh.

‘Why did you think me dead?’

‘Oh, it was Thomas Dale who thought that at first, because of the red stains on your table.’

‘You have spoken to Dale, then. Red stains? Oh, I spilled some ink when I… Perhaps I should tell you why I have been in hiding since you last saw me.’

‘Yes, perhaps you should. But let us wait until Doll returns, or I will not hear the end of it. Anyway, you should eat first, and tell us your tale afterwards.’

Bromhead’s hunger was manifest in the way he demolished the potatoes, chop and gravy that Doll brought. Along with most of the jug of ale. Malinferno was itching to know what had happened to cause his friend to run and hide. But he held back his curiosity until the little man’s belly was full. Then they all sat in the circle of light cast by the oil-lamp, and Bromhead told a story concerning strange noises in the night and dark men standing under flickering streetlamps.

‘At first I thought it was the Borough Gang come to murder me and provide my body for some medical student’s autopsy exercise. I am told they look out for men of – shall we say? – unusual stature.’

The antiquarian squared his shoulders in the chair where he sat, as if trying to stretch his body to a normal height. But there was nothing he could do about his large dome of a head which, set on his small frame, had earned him the nickname of Tadpole from the street urchins. Finally he shrugged the selfsame shoulders and continued his tale.

‘Such a thought was bad enough. But when the lurker finally confronted me, it turned out I was as far away from the truth as I could be. It was in the evening after I entrusted Arthur’s bones to you, Giuseppe. And lucky that I did so, because that is what the man wanted, and he was prepared to kill to get them. He slid into my chamber out of the darkness like some dark-skinned, slippery eel out of the Fleet. The first I knew was the vice-like grip I felt on my neck. I was terrified, I can tell you, and I waved my arms about trying to escape. That must have been when I knocked the inkwell over and sent my precious books flying. But I could not escape his grip, and he hissed a warning into my ear. “Keep still, you little worm, or I will snap your neck right now,” he said. I stopped my struggle, and he released me. He demanded to know where the bones were, and I prevaricated – until he drew a sharp knife from under his coachman’s coat. I’m afraid I told him you had them, Giuseppe. But even then I kept my presence of mind. I pointed at the old wooden box in the corner, which I had dug up at Trevenna. “The coffin is there,” I cried. And when he bent over to lift the lid, I ran for my life. And have been running until this very night, when I could stand the cold and degradation no more. So I came in secret to my old friend’s door.’