The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

‘All I can say is that I woke up, and thought I heard a person in the tent. When I looked over towards the entrance, I could see the lid of the box had been moved. I thought at first someone had tried to steal from the box, but when I looked in, I saw Sacchi looking out at me.’ She sighed. ‘Only he wasn’t. Looking out, I mean. His eyes were devoid of life. Poor bugger.’

Malinferno was quite taken with the Queen’s strange mixture of demure English and coarse Germanic expressions. He could see how people could fall in love with her common touch. Doll, meanwhile was all business.

‘Why do you think he was killed? Did he disturb a thief, who was out to rifle the treasures of the pharaoh? He would have been sorely disappointed, if he was. There was not much to take.’

She cast a meaningful glance at Malinferno, knowing that he had already stripped the body of trinkets, removing them as he unbound the wrappings in front of the crowd earlier. His hands were as nimble as any pickpocket from the lowest rookery or flash-house in the East End. Malinferno blushed, and the little hoard of jewels and keepsakes suddenly burned a hole in his pocket. Before he could say anything though, the Queen spoke up firmly.

‘No. I believe this was done to further discredit me. The Government is unsure whether they can win a majority in the House to condemn me. If I were to be associated with the grisly murder of one of my equerries, it would be the end. They wouldn’t have to prove anything. It would be enough for the possibility to exist, and for the rumours to fly.’

She took Doll’s hand in hers, pleading in her eyes. ‘You must help me find out who did this. Find the government spy in the party, and you will have the murderer. And at the same time save me from a fate worse than death. I mean the loss of all that is mine by rights.’

Strangely, it was Malinferno, not Doll, who then came up with the most practical decision. Moving over to the crate, he decisively pulled the lid closed over the corpse, and pushed one of the protruding nails down into its former hole.

‘We shall say no more to anyone about the death of Sacchi, only that he is missing, and we wish to know what might have happened to him.’ He turned to Queen Caroline. ‘If a body will jeopardise your standing and chances of defeating this Bill in Parliament, then there will be no body. If the murder was done to embarrass you, then how to materialise the lost body will vex the killer in the extreme. He might give himself away.’

Caroline clapped her hands in delight, while Houghton at last looked relieved that the corpse was consigned out of sight, if not out of mind.

‘Professor, you are a genius.’

Malinferno took the compliment with a gracious smile, only noticing over the Queen’s shoulder a wry smile on Doll’s face. He could tell she was not much impressed by his plan, which had been blindingly obvious. He pulled a face back at her, as much as to say, ‘Well, I said it first.’ What he did say was that he and Doll would undertake to make enquiries as the lords and ladies of the encampment rose from their beds.

‘If the person who perpetrated the deed is still here on Solsbury Hill, we will find him out. If the murderer has already decamped in the night, then by doing that he will have revealed himself, and will just need apprehending.’

When Doll and Malinferno left the Queen to her ablutions, Lieutenant Houghton followed them out of the tent. He called for them to wait a moment, but made sure they were all three far enough away from the incognito Queen to speak without being overheard. He was nervous, poking the ground with the end of the gilded scabbard housing his ceremonial sword.

‘You need to know that the Queen did not go straight to bed last night. After I had left the tent with Sacchi on guard, I was restless and took a little walk to that oak grove over there.’

He pointed to the stunted woods on the north-western edge of the encampment. Malinferno guessed that Houghton had not walked there for exercise. He had observed many male guests sneaking in that direction to piss away the drink that had been consumed in vast quantities during the festivities. Doll winked at Joe, implying she knew the purpose of Houghton’s stroll also. The naval lieutenant coughed, and continued his narrative.

‘When I came back past the tent, I saw Sacchi in conversation with a man. A very large gentleman with the distinctive braying voice of a politician.’

Doll and Malinferno exchanged glances. He must be referring to the Honourable Member of Parliament who had last night nestled in Doll’s bosom.

‘He appeared to want to speak to the Queen, knowing her true identity. He had to pass Sacchi some coins before he could enter the tent, however. I would not have allowed it, nor have lowered myself to bribery, but Sacchi is an Italian…’

He waved a hand as though that was enough explanation for the misconduct of his fellow equerry. He was quite unaware of Malinferno’s antecedents on his father’s side, and Joe held his temper. He thanked the lieutenant tersely, and they parted company.

Doll giggled. ‘Never mind, Joe. You might be a low Eye-talian on the one side, but you are all stiff, starchy Englishman on the other.’

Malinferno made a face, and poked Doll in the ribs. As they were returning to their tent, the camp began to rouse around them. It was mostly servants they saw, who were up and about lighting fires, and scurrying back and forth from the main marquee to a large tent on the periphery of the encampment. It was altogether a more functional-looking affair than the highly decorated marquee. Made of thick canvas, it bore the stains of long and heavy use. Large tin funnels stuck up above the apex of the canvas, and smoke was already rising from them. The aroma of cooking meats emerged from the tent flaps. Doll licked her lips.

‘The well-to-do don’t stint themselves, do they? Even when they are picnicking, so to speak.’

‘Some picnic that is,’ commented Malinferno, as a liveried servant hurried over the grassy embankment with a large silver dish in his hands. He sniffed as the man passed them.

‘Boiled beef.’

Doll and Joe exchanged looks, and nodded in tacit agreement. The investigation could wait until their stomachs were fed. They followed the servant into the marquee, Malinferno providing the necessary justification.

‘After all, it is most likely we will encounter those we wish to interview there. And it is not as though we have fresh linen to change into in our tent.’ He brushed down his soiled coat. ‘We shall have to make do as we are.’

Inside the marquee, the semi-shade might have obscured a clear view of who had already risen. But a forest of candles burned around the tables, their light gleaming off the silver cutlery set on the not so pristine white linen from the night before. When Doll and Joe cast around to see who was there, they were gratified to see the vast corpulence of the Honourable Member for the rotten borough of Plympton Erle, Sir Ralph St Germans. He was already gorging himself on a plateful of boiled beef and potatoes. With a polite murmur of apology, Malinferno sat himself and Doll opposite.

As though by magic, plates of food appeared at their elbows. Malinferno recognised the pattern of red dragons encircling the plate. It was the highest quality Meissen porcelain – a far cry from the two chipped plates they had been dining on before escaping London. He had a passing thought of slipping the plates under his coat after he had cleaned them of the beef. But when he looked guiltily up at Doll, he saw that she had read his thoughts. She was nodding towards St Germans, who had merely grunted at their intrusion and continued to eat his way through the full plate of food.