The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

Malinferno was almost inclined to say there was nothing of his there, but that there was plenty belonging to the Queen. They had stopped outside the duchess’s tent. He hesitated about going inside, wondering if Orford knew of Queen Caroline’s presence. And his mind was whirling, thinking how he could remove Sacchi’s body before Orford loaded it on a cart, and it ended up in the duchess’s stately home. There, the growing smell might cause a servant to realise it was not a three-thousand-year-old body, but one of much more recent origins.

How to divert Orford was solved by the timely arrival of Doll Pocket. Swirling the folds of her muslin dress around her curves, she took Orford’s arm, and manoeuvred him away from the tent and the crated body of Sacchi.

‘Mr Orford, the duchess tells me you know a lot about the history of the very hill on which we are standing. That it might have been the site of a battle involving King Arthur. Do tell me all about it. I have an interest myself in the location of Arthur’s bones.’

Reluctantly, Orford allowed himself to be drawn away from the matter of the crate, and he began to relate the story of the Battle of Mount Badon. Though he did still manage to call out some advice to Malinferno: ‘Don’t concern yourself about the crate, sir. I will deal with it.’

Malinferno waved a hand at the retreating couple, and ducked his head through the tent flap. Inside, he was surprised to see the Queen, in the guise of Hattie Vaughan, entertaining none less than the mighty person of Sir Ralph St Germans. A jug of claret sat on a small table between them and, judging by the hilarity evinced by the two of them, it was far from full. They were clinking crystal goblets together as Malinferno entered. The Queen tilted her head in his direction, her black wig and pink turban with its long ostrich feather fully restored to their rightful place. Sir Ralph chortled, and drank down the claret in one gulp.

‘Madam, though I am a Whig, and would soundly whip any Radical who called for the downfall of the King, I have to say you have convinced me that the Queen…’ here he winked knowingly at Mrs Vaughan, ‘… should have my support. She has been hard done by, and deserves to be crowned alongside His Majesty. And if she were present, I would tell her that.’

The Queen giggled, and drank from her own goblet.

‘When I see her next, I will be sure to inform her of your support, Sir Ralph. Though as the trial is to take place in the Upper House, I fear it is in the Lords’ chamber where she needs help most.’

Realising her unintentional innuendo, she put her hand to her mouth and guffawed. Sir Ralph chortled all the more merrily, sounding like a babbling stream running over pebbles. He banged the flat of his hand down on the top of the crate housing the mortal remains of Guido Sacchi.

‘Now, Mrs Vaughan…’ once again he gave a grotesque wink, ‘… tell me again of the time in Italy that the Queen watched Mahomet the Turk perform that obscene dance.’

Malinferno retreated, seeing that he would get no sense from Sir Ralph concerning the meaning of the numbers in the spy’s notebook, now nestled in his coat pocket. But he need not have concerned himself with interpreting the code, for as he backed out of the tent, he felt the end of something poking in his back. He started, and a voice hissed in his ear.

‘Now, sir, return to me my notebook, or it will go ill for you.’

Thinking of the scene inside the tent, and how Powell would love to record it, Malinferno moved decisively away from the tent flap.

‘Of course you may have it back. I would have had no intention of keeping it, if you hadn’t startled us earlier.’ He took out the notebook. ‘May I have the lady’s bonnet back in exchange?’

Powell sneered, and turning, Malinferno noticed that the object stuck into his back was not a pistol as he had imagined but a small twig. He sighed at his cowardice, and defeated, handed over the book. Powell laughed.

‘The bonnet containing the three stolen plates? Perhaps I will keep it as evidence of your wrongdoing, should I need to ensure your silence on this matter.’

Malinferno cursed Doll’s light-fingeredness, conveniently forgetting his own when it came to unravelling the bindings of the mummy. Powell dropped the twig on the ground, and flicked through his notebook, ensuring no pages had been removed. Malinferno indicated the secret document.

‘Very full, and informative, your notes. May I just ask if number twenty-three is Signor Sacchi?’

‘The Queen’s latest Italian paramour?’ The spy’s disgust of the Queen’s activities was evident. ‘Yes, you are correct in your assumption. And the other one – Houghton – is number twenty-two. I have my eye on both of them. And anyone else who entered the duchess’s tent in the night.’

‘Sir Ralph St Germans, for example?

Powell coughed in embarrassment.

‘I cannot say. My commission is from Parliament, so there is a conflict of interest there. Though I am sure Sir Ralph would have tried to persuade the Queen to accept a divorce. I will tell you one thing for free. That man who I saw just now hanging on to the arm of your lady-friend was hovering round the tent in the night too. I saw him sneak inside much later than Sir Ralph when I went to use the bushes for… some relief. Sacchi must have deserted his post by then for I could not see him. He didn’t come out for a while, and I returned to my carriage. It had been a tiring day, and I fell asleep almost immediately.’

Malinferno felt his gorge rise. Powell meant Orford. Could he have been the murderer? If so, Doll was even now in his clutches. He looked nervously around the tented encampment. He could see neither Doll nor Daniel Orford, but spotted Lieutenant Houghton in the distance. He thanked Powell for his information, and rushed after the naval officer.

‘Lieutenant Houghton, wait a moment.’

Houghton turned around to see Malinferno running across the sward towards him, and for a moment looked as though he was going to flee. But he then stood his ground, and waited for Malinferno to catch his breath.

‘Have you seen Doll? She is with the duchess’s estates manager, Daniel Orford. A tall man, dark hair, rough clothes.’

Houghton’s eyes clouded over, and he kicked at the tufts of grass at his feet.

‘The… lady you were with? No, I haven’t seen her. I was looking for the fat man who Sacchi allowed into the Queen… Mrs Vaughan’s tent last night. I saw him there again this morning. He is a Member of Parliament, St Germans by name.’

Malinferno could have got annoyed at such people as Houghton casting doubts on the virtue of Doll Pocket by the innuendo in their voice when they mentioned her. Doll had fought hard to become who she was, using the best means at her disposal. Men like the naval lieutenant had had their way paved with family gold. He knew who he preferred to associate with. But he contained his anger.

‘Yes. Sir Ralph St Germans, and I think you will find that he and Mrs Vaughan are bosom friends by now.’

Malinferno spoke the words without thinking and then hoped they were not too literal a description of the friendship blossoming in the duchess’s tent. Houghton, though, was livid, his face turning a deep shade of purple.

‘What are you suggesting, sir? The Queen is of a trusting and friendly nature, on which some place a sinister interpretation.’

He had clearly forgotten the discreet incognito of the lady concerned, and practically foamed at the mouth as he berated Malinferno.

‘I am sure Sir Ralph’s intentions are honourable, and that he merely wishes to persuade the Queen to retire from public life. Sacchi, of course, could not see that. All he wanted to do was make money out of his association with the Queen. He took Sir Ralph’s coin, and then later I saw him talking to that man in the Tilbury gig. You should be chasing after him, if you ask me, not your lady-friend.’