A Conspiracy of Violence (38 page)

‘Stop!’ yelled Wade in a hoarse scream. ‘Do not attract his attention. He has not been fed.’

Snow ignored him and broke into a sprint, while the lion trotted after him with its ears pricked, indicating it was interested.
Meanwhile, Bennet circled behind it, shouting and slapping his sword on his boot. Gradually, both men and the lion came closer
to Chaloner, who was walking steadily towards the gate, fighting the impulse to run. He glanced behind him and saw the lion
veer to one side, but Bennet immediately drove it back on its original course. Chaloner tried to move faster.

Meanwhile, Wade was still atop the wall. He bent across it, exhorting them to leave Sonya’s capture to the keeper, who knew
what he was doing. It had not occurred to him that Bennet and Snow were deliberately driving the beast towards a victim. When
they failed to acknowledge him, he leaned out farther. Suddenly his legs flew up behind him and he cartwheeled to the ground.
He landed so close to Chaloner that one of his flailing hands clipped the agent’s shoulder. When Chaloner glanced up at the
wall-walk, he caught a glimpse of someone running away. Keeping a wary eye on the lion, he crouched next to Wade, although
he could see there was nothing he could do: it had been a long drop and Wade had fallen awkwardly. Wade muttered something,
then lay still.

‘God’s blood!’ exclaimed Snow, gazing upwards. ‘Did you see that? It was— Hey! Watch it!’

Sonya had swiped at him, and its claws were caught in his coat. The lion struggled to free itself, and Snow staggered away.
Bennet raced forward and poked the animal with his sword, forcing Sonya away from Snow and towards Chaloner again. His face
wore a triumphant grin.

‘This is not wise,’ called Chaloner. They were now in an elongated enclosure, with the Bloody Tower at one end, and Bennet,
Snow and the lion at the other. Chaloner was in the middle. The gate through which he had escaped with Evett was blocked with
a portcullis, presumably to confine Sonya to the bailey. ‘It is just as likely to attack you as me.’

‘But
we
have swords,’ Bennet pointed out. ‘And
we
know how to handle Sonya.’

‘Kelyng will not be pleased,’ warned Chaloner. ‘First, he has asked me to investigate something for him; and second, I do
not think he would approve of you maltreating an animal.’

‘Kelyng is no longer important,’ said Bennet tautly. ‘He hunts the King’s enemies, but wants them tried in a court of law,
when it is better to kill them. He has lost his way, but I have not. Besides, this beast escapes all the time, and it is unfortunate
you will be savaged before it can be recaptured.’

‘We are abandoning Kelyng to follow our own path,’ added Snow, lest Chaloner had not understood. ‘Me and the men want a strong
leader – and besides, Mr Bennet said he would pay us double.’

‘Do you think Fanny will accept you if you make a name for yourself in rebel-hunting?’ asked Chaloner in distaste. ‘I doubt
she will change her mind, no matter how many “traitors” you murder.’

Bennet shrugged. ‘She will have to marry someone, and there are not many who will take her now she carries a dead man’s child.’

‘Lee’s?’ asked Chaloner. Several facts snapped together in his mind. ‘Did
you
shoot Lee – to eliminate a rival? That will not make her love you. Robinson said she is grief-stricken.’

‘She is not in a position to be choosy. It will not be long before I prove myself Kelyng’s superior in every way, and Robinson
will be only too grateful to have me as his son-in-law.’

‘When you killed Lee, who was with him?’

Bennet shrugged. ‘A couple. My argument was not with them, so I let them live.’

Chaloner saw he had been wrong: Lee’s
death
had nothing to do with Barkstead’s treasure, but his meeting with the ‘couple’ had, as attested by the fact that he had been
holding a document containing a list of the Seven. Were they Ingoldsby and his wife? But why would they run away and leave
their kinsman’s body to be discovered by someone else? Robinson and Fanny? But Chaloner recalled Fanny’s eager happiness as
she waited for her lover to pay her a birthday visit: she would not have done that had she known he was dead. Dalton and Sarah?
That certainly held all manner of possibilities, since Dalton’s own name was on the list snatched from Lee’s dead hand.

‘Who killed Storey?’ asked Snow, waving his sword when Sonya moved towards Wade’s body. ‘If you tell me her name, I will …’ He trailed off. There was really very little he could offer, since Bennet clearly had no intention of sparing his victim.

‘I do not think Kelyng will be easy to depose,’ said
Chaloner, taking several steps away while Sonya was preoccupied. ‘It has nothing to do with personality or suitability, but
with resources: he is wealthier than you.’

Bennet made a lunge that frightened Sonya away from Wade and back towards the agent. ‘He will have an accident when he goes
to feed your bird. And your pet will fall foul of a blade, too. Fanny likes turkey meat, and it will be a good way to begin
courting her again.’

Sonya gave a low growl. Its tale swished this way and that, and its eyes held a wild, opaque look. When its head gave a curious
twitch, Chaloner saw it was definitely one of its bad days. He backed away until he reached the portcullis, then began to
ascend the metal-studded framework. Snow poked the lion with his sword. It trotted forward and made a half-hearted swipe at
Chaloner that missed, then padded off in the opposite direction. Bennet yelled and banged his dagger against the wall. Alarmed
by the noise, Sonya veered back towards the gate. Chaloner continued to climb, but the portcullis was not high enough to keep
him out of claw range. Bennet struck Sonya with the flat of his sword. The lion roared its outrage, and turned in a tight
circle.

‘In a moment, it will lose what vestiges of reason it has left,’ said Bennet, his face split in a savage smile. ‘And you will
be ripped from the gate and torn limb from limb. It happened to one of His Majesty’s measurers of cloth only yesterday.’

‘If you tell us the name of the wench, I will call the beast to heel,’ offered Snow unconvincingly.

Chaloner began to tire of the game. ‘This has gone far enough. Stop, before you are hurt.’

‘Sonya would not dare touch us,’ said Snow, although he shot the animal an uneasy glance.

‘It is exactly the kind of inept scheme I would expect from men who have never heard of St Thomas à Becket,’ Chaloner went
on, disgusted with them both. ‘Back off, while you can.’

‘It is all right,’ said Snow sympathetically, when Bennet’s jaw dropped in astonishment at the insult. ‘I do not know this
so-called saint, either.’

Bennet’s expression was dangerous. He jabbed Sonya. ‘Don’t you
dare
accuse me of stupidity.’

The lion’s tail was twitching faster. It stood on its hind legs and swiped, catching a claw in Chaloner’s boot and almost
dragging him down. He saw yellow teeth, chipped and broken, and recalled its heavy body when it had jumped on him before.
He jerked his foot away, and Bennet darted forward to jab the hapless beast again. Sonya dropped to all fours and snapped
round to face him.

‘Do not run,’ advised Chaloner, knowing what would happen if he did. He saw men converge at the far end of the enclosure.
‘The keeper is coming. Back away, before it is too late.’

‘Hey!’ shouted Bennet, as the sword was knocked from his hand by a powerful paw.

‘Stand still,’ suggested Chaloner. ‘And do not make—’

Bennet took three rapid steps backwards before turning to flee. Sonya tensed, and then its huge body hurtled through the air
to land in the middle of Bennet’s back, sending him crashing to the ground.

‘—any sudden moves,’ finished Chaloner, looking away.

That evening, Metje escaped early from her duties by claiming she did not feel safe with the turkey roaming the house, and
asked permission to spend the night with
a friend. North had refused at first, on the grounds that it was already dark, but then Chaloner had arrived – invited by
Temperance to taste her new batch of knot biscuits – and Metje had asked him to escort her.

‘This is decent of you, Heyden,’ said North gratefully. ‘I cannot countenance a woman going out alone at this time of night,
but I have been uneasy every since that villain attacked me with his gun, and I do not want to be out there myself. He may
recognise me and try it again.’

‘Can I come?’ asked Temperance eagerly. ‘I do not like the turkey, either.’

‘Next time,’ replied Metje gently. ‘It would be unfair for us both to arrive at my friend’s home unannounced.’

Temperance’s face fell, but she managed a smile. ‘Please arrange it, then. I am bored with spending
every
evening at home or at chapel.’

‘Child!’ admonished North. ‘Think about what you say. Your poor brother would be saddened to hear you speak so. What else
would you be doing on a winter evening?’

‘The theatre would be nice,’ replied Temperance wistfully. ‘Or, if those are too full of sin, then a night of music, or perhaps
a visit to Mr Heyden’s rooms to play cards.’

‘Play
cards
?’ echoed Faith, shocked. She gazed at Chaloner as though he had put the idea into her daughter’s head. ‘But that would entail
gambling
!’

‘I do not own any cards,’ said Chaloner, not wanting to be considered a source of vice. He tried to think of something innocuous
to offer as an alternative. ‘But I will read Hobbes’s
Leviathan
to you.’

A wary silence greeted his offer. ‘Do you have nothing
else?’ asked North eventually. ‘I have seen that book, and it is awfully thick. We will be listening to you for months, and
it is dull stuff.’

‘Seditious, too,’ said Faith accusingly. ‘You are trying to corrupt us.’

‘We should be on our way or Mrs Partridge will be abed before I arrive,’ said Metje, after Chaloner had suggested several
safe alternatives that included Gratian’s
Decretum
(in Latin) and a collection of erudite essays entitled
Sophistic Recollections
. ‘We should let Temperance select one of these fascinating epistles, since she was the one who suggested the diversion. Chose
well, though, dear. An evening is a long time in winter, and we shall rely on you to see us all pleasantly entertained.

Temperance was perturbed. ‘Lord! Perhaps I will ask Preacher Hill to lend us something instead. He has some books in his room.’

‘Religious ones,’ said Chaloner dismissively, before it occurred to him that the Puritans would probably prefer them to philosophy
or legal texts.

‘His room?’ pounced Faith, eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know?’

‘He told
me
about them,’ said Metje quickly, earning a grateful smile from Temperance. ‘Where is the turkey? Is it safe to leave through
the front door?’

‘It is in the kitchen eating nuts,’ replied North resentfully. ‘We shall have nothing left soon.’

Once away from the North house, when he was sure Temperance was not watching from her window, Chaloner grabbed Metje’s hand
and pulled her up the stairs to his room, wanting to give her the gifts he had purchased. She was delighted, and they ate
some of them sitting on the floor in front of the fire. Then, since he
still had Kelyng’s silver crown, she declared Temperance’s musings had put her in the mood for a play, so he took her to
see
The Villain
by Thomas Porter at the Duke’s House in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He fell asleep during the second act, although she was captivated
until the closing curtain. After, they returned to his rooms, and he played Dutch folksongs on his viol.

Metje seemed happier than she had been in days, and confided that her ill temper had arisen from the fact that she had not
known whether he would be pleased or angry with the news of the baby. He stroked her hair while she told him how the turkey
had stood defiantly in the sitting room that morning, daring anyone to lay a hand on it while it gobbled its way though a
bowl of chestnuts. North had responded by going to buy a chicken – a dead one – so they would at least have something to eat
in the event of a postponed execution.

‘He thinks you might be persuaded to dispatch it,’ she said with a giggle. ‘When I asked him why, he said he thought you might
like to redeem yourself after losing his burglar the other night.’

‘I am not killing it,’ said Chaloner sleepily. ‘He can do it himself, if he wants to eat it that badly.’

‘If you will not oblige, he says he will hire the Tower’s executioner. Sir John Robinson said that man will kill anything
for a shilling. Mr North will devour a roasted bird tomorrow, regardless of whether or not you accede to his request.’

‘Poor turkey,’ said Chaloner.

‘You are sorry for a turkey? Is it because you spent time with Kelyng, and his fondness for dumb creatures rubbed off on you?
Tell me the tale again – from the beginning.’

‘Not tonight,’ said Chaloner, aware of what happened when an untrue story was told more than once: inconsistencies crept in,
and he did not want her to catch him in even the smallest of lies.

‘It is a bad idea to keep a menagerie in a castle. The King should send the animals back to where they came from – especially
the lions. Those tiny cages are cruel.’

He regarded her in surprise. ‘You have seen them?’

She nodded. ‘One Saturday, when you were off on some mysterious jaunt, and the Norths were at chapel. Will Bennet die, do
you think – like that poor man Wade, who fell from the wall?’

‘No, although his days as chamberlain are over. Kelyng was furious when he learned what had happened. He is fond of Sonya
– probably recognises a kindred spirit in its damaged mind.’

She twisted around to look at him. ‘It was not Kelyng who invited you to the Tower, was it? I would not like to think you
were so desperate for work you that would take Bennet’s place.’

He shuddered, genuinely appalled. ‘God forbid! When I meet people like Kelyng, I understand why gentler souls have taken a
stand against his brand of militancy.’