The King's Spy (Thomas Hill Trilogy 1) (22 page)

BOOK: The King's Spy (Thomas Hill Trilogy 1)
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‘The coroner thinks it was during the night. The door wasn’t forced. Abraham let his own murderer in.’

‘And this?’ He indicated the ruined room.

‘When I was at Abraham’s room.’

‘Then the murderer did not find what he wanted in Abraham’s room and came here to look for it. Did he find it here, Thomas?’

‘Thankfully, he did not. I have it safe.’

‘And can you tell me what it is?’

No more pretence. Thomas retrieved the message
from its hiding place and handed it to Simon. ‘This is what he was looking for. A text encrypted with a Vigenère square, a cipher thought to be unbreakable.’

‘A Vigenère square? I recall your mentioning Vigenère in the inn at Abingdon. Is this the same man?’

‘It is. And you must have your second lesson. If anything should happen to me, it would be as well if someone else knew about it.’ Thomas patiently described Blaise de Vigenère’s square with its twenty-six possible encryptions of each letter of a text, rendering analysis of individual letter frequencies useless. Only a possessor of the keyword could decrypt a Vigenère text. He told Simon how the message had come to him, and that Abraham was sure it contained information vital to the outcome of the war. ‘Texts which use the square are laborious to encrypt and decrypt,’ he explained, ‘so it’s seldom used for military purposes. This message is hiding something the king needs to know, and his enemies will do anything to prevent him knowing. That’s why Abraham died.’

‘If you’re right, Thomas, you’re in grave danger. You certainly can’t stay here.’

‘Simon, what do you know of Tobias Rush?’

‘Rush? Come now, Thomas, surely you don’t think he’s behind Abraham’s murder? Rush is one of the king’s closest advisers. That would make him a traitor as well
as a murderer. An unpleasant fellow he may be, but a traitor? Surely not.’

Thomas told him about Rush’s visit and the questions about his work. He described the journey from Newbury and the deaths of the coachmen, and he pointed out how easy it would have been for Rush to gain entry to Abraham’s room by pretending to be on the king’s business. And he told him about the ‘accident’ in the street and the loss of his key. He guessed that the boys who had knocked him down had been paid by Rush to steal his key. Simon listened carefully. When Thomas had finished his account, he said, ‘Thomas, even if Rush did murder Abraham, he could not have searched your room.’

‘Why not? He could have hidden in the college and watched me cross the courtyard.’

‘No. The king is away from Oxford and sent for him last night. He left around midnight and has not yet returned. I know because two of the queen’s men went with him as guards. If he were back in Oxford, so would they be.’

If the coroner was right about the time of death, Rush could have murdered Abraham and been back in Christ Church before the summons from the king arrived. But he could not have ransacked Thomas’s room. ‘Then he had an accomplice. Before departing to
join the king, Rush sent someone to watch for a chance to enter the room, using my key, and to find the message. And I believe I know who it was.’

‘Who?’

‘Captain Francis Fayne, the man whose room this used to be. And there’s another thing. I’ve walked down the lane where Erasmus Pole was found, and I don’t believe he would have gone there at night. He was murdered elsewhere and his body left in the lane. The coroner wouldn’t have bothered with just another dead body there. What’s more, both Pole and Abraham had their throats cut. The same method of killing. The same killer.’

‘Thomas,’ said Simon when Thomas had finished, ‘even if Tobias Rush is a traitor and a murderer, all you have is supposition. Supposition, not proof. If the king is to be persuaded of the guilt of one of his closest advisers, absolute proof will be needed. He trusts Rush implicitly.’

‘And how are we to get proof? The man’s cunning and devious. Proof will not be easy to come by.’

‘We’ll have to think of a plan. Meanwhile, we must find you a safe haven.’

‘I didn’t know the king had left Oxford again. Where is he now?’

‘I don’t know. A secret rendezvous somewhere. He
must have needed Rush urgently. Her majesty is despondent. She always fears the worst when the king is away. It’s her nature.’

‘So what do you propose?’

‘When it’s dark, we’ll slip out of Pembroke and go to Merton. You can stay in my rooms tonight. Even Rush wouldn’t dare enter the rooms of the queen’s priest without permission. Until then we’ll stay here.’

‘I have to visit the coroner tomorrow morning to identify Abraham’s body.’

‘In that case, I shall accompany you there. Then we’ll think of a way to get you home.’

‘Simon,’ said Thomas, ‘there’s one more thing. I’ve made some progress on the cipher. Given time, I think I may be able to decrypt it. I must stay here until I have. And, in any case, Rush’s long arm will certainly reach Romsey. I’m safer here.’

‘What about your family?’

‘I worry for them day and night. I’ve had no word from them. Rush offered to have my letter delivered to them, but I doubt it ever got there. Yet they’re probably safer without me. If Rush’s men came calling for me, they would all be in danger. I want to go home, but Abraham’s death has changed things. He thought this message was important and he was right. I must decrypt it.’

‘If that’s what you want, Thomas. Now, Rush or
not, there is a vicious murderer in Oxford, so we’ll stay here until dark. Would you care to show me the cipher and what you’ve been able to do?’

Better to keep the mind occupied, thought Thomas, as Simon well knows. ‘Very well, I’ll explain.’

It was a long afternoon. When darkness eventually fell they left the room together, taking only the message and Thomas’s papers. The courtyard was empty and Simon diverted Silas’s attention while Thomas slipped out, then joined him outside the gate. Even Silas must not know where Thomas was going. They walked quickly to Merton, taking care to keep their distance from anyone passing in the street. At Merton, Simon took Thomas to his room in the little quadrangle behind the chapel, and left him there while he went to arrange for food and drink, and to find a pallet for Thomas’s bed.

Thomas slept little. The image of sightless, eyeless Abraham, his chest and face bloody, his hands tied and his throat cut, had imprinted itself on his mind. It was a different sort of horror, and even more terrible than what he had seen at Newbury. Abraham had been his friend. He might have admitted to knowing about the message or he might not. It was of no account. The old man had suffered beyond imagining, and Thomas could do nothing about it. He could only grieve.

Simon, too, slept little. He asked Thomas to repeat
the account of his being knocked down in the street, and he asked about Rush’s questions relating to Thomas’s work. He gave Thomas the impression that he knew something more, something not even Abraham had known. He did not say what, and Thomas lacked the will to ask. Simon would tell him if he wanted to.

Next morning, having hidden the papers in Simon’s Bible, they left Merton for the coroner’s house. In order not to attract attention, Simon walked well behind Thomas, and kept an eye out for danger. At the corner of Cornmarket and Ship Street, where the coroner’s house stood, Thomas suddenly stopped and ducked into a doorway. Not knowing why, Simon did the same, and waited until Thomas emerged before going on. Thomas waited for him to catch up.

‘It was Rush, Simon. He’s back. I saw him leaving the coroner’s house.’

‘Did he see you?’

‘I don’t think so. He was hurrying.’

‘Good. Well, you’ll have to visit the coroner or he’ll be suspicious. I’ll wait outside for you.’

When Thomas knocked on the coroner’s door, it was opened immediately. Henry Pearson was waiting for him. Without saying a word, he led Thomas to a back room, empty but for a low table on which lay Abraham’s body, covered by a grey cloth. Pearson raised
the cloth. ‘Do you recognize this man?’ he asked briskly.

‘I do. It’s Abraham Fletcher.’

Pearson replaced the cloth and ushered Thomas out of the room. Indicating for Thomas to follow him, he opened the door to another room and went in. This too was bare of furniture but for a small desk and two chairs.

‘While you are here, Master Hill,’ said Pearson, ‘I have some questions to ask you.’ He remained standing and did not offer Thomas a chair.

‘Very well,’ replied Thomas, ‘although I believe I have told you everything I know.’

‘That we shall soon ascertain. I have examined the body and established the cause of death as the severing of the deceased’s windpipe with a very sharp blade. The cut was clean. Before he died, his face and chest were cut with the same weapon, and his eyes removed, probably also with the same blade. The eyes were not at the scene of the murder. There are marks on his wrists consistent with their being tied with rope, no doubt in order to restrain him. There are also signs that a rag or cloth was stuffed into his mouth to prevent his crying out.’

Thomas felt his knees give, and reached for a chair to steady himself. The coroner ignored his distress.

‘Can you confirm that you were the first to find the body?’

‘I can. Silas Merkin and I.’

‘Quite. You used Merkin’s key to enter the room?’

‘We did. When there was no answer to my knock, I fetched him.’

‘Were you surprised that there was no answer?’

‘I was. Abraham was blind, but his hearing was good. And he seldom left his rooms.’

‘Why were you calling on him?’

‘Abraham taught me mathematics and philosophy. He was a good friend and a fine scholar. I came to Oxford to visit him before he died. We spent the mornings together discussing philosophy and books.’ It was the story they had agreed.

‘I see. And how long have you been in Oxford?’

‘I arrived some four weeks ago.’

‘Indeed? A long visit.’

‘I enjoy Oxford, even in time of war, and I enjoyed Abraham’s company. I am unmarried. I saw no need to hurry home.’

‘Where is your home, Master Hill?’

‘I live in the town of Romsey, in Hampshire.’

‘A long journey, not to be lightly undertaken.’

‘Long enough. The more reason not to make it again too soon.’

‘I believe Master Fletcher was killed during the night before he was found. Perhaps six hours earlier. Where were you at that time?’

‘Asleep in my room, naturally.’ Thomas was fast losing patience. ‘Master Pearson, do you suspect me of this unspeakable crime? For heaven’s sake, Abraham Fletcher was my friend.’

‘So you say. I am of the opinion that the murderer resided in the college. A stranger would have been noticed.’

‘The college is full of soldiers and their families. Which of them would want to kill an elderly scholar, and why?’

‘Why, indeed? The motive is as yet unclear, but I have received information that Master Fletcher performed certain services for the king. Services important to the conduct of the war. If this became known to a traitor, he might have been in danger.’

And I know who you received it from, thought Thomas. Tobias Rush, a murderer and a traitor. ‘I know nothing of such matters.’

‘I have also been informed that you were recently found drunk in the street.’

‘Drunk in the street? Nonsense. I was knocked into a shit-filled drain by three boys. I was quite sober.’

‘Were there any witnesses to this?’

‘I expect so. There were people in the street. Someone must have seen it happen.’

‘I shall make inquiries. Meanwhile, Thomas Hill, a
coroner’s jury will be summoned to examine the death of Abraham Fletcher. I have no doubt that the jury will reach a verdict of murder. I also have no doubt that you had the means, and probably the motive, to commit this awful crime, and that the jury will send you to the Court of Assizes to stand trial for murder. While I conduct further investigations, you will be held at Oxford Castle. Guard!’

Before Thomas could protest, two guards who must have been waiting outside threw open the door.

‘Bind the prisoner and take him immediately to the castle. He is to be held there until I order his release or transfer elsewhere.’

When his hands were tied and he was marched out of the house, the terrible truth hit Thomas. Rush had bribed the coroner, and he really was being taken to one of the most notorious gaols in England. He shouted for help, and was struck in the face for his trouble. Outside, he searched frantically for Simon. At first he could not see him, and was almost panicked into calling out again. Then Simon appeared briefly from behind a wall, signalled that he had seen Thomas and disappeared again. He must have feared that they were being watched.

At the castle, the coroner’s guards told the gatekeeper their business, and they were escorted through
the castle yard to a thick oak door on the other side. The gatekeeper unlocked it, and Thomas was manhandled into a dingy guardroom, where a pox-scarred man with a huge belly sat eating a chicken leg. His guards handed their charge over to the fat gaoler. ‘Room for a small one? Shouldn’t be here long. He’ll be off to the Assizes for murder.’

‘We’ll fit ’im in somewhere,’ replied the gaoler, through a mouthful of chicken. ‘If ’e’s a murderer, we’d better chain ’im.’ He took an iron ring attached to a short chain from a row hanging on the wall, and locked it round Thomas’s neck. ‘That’ll keep ’im out of trouble.’

The guards left, and Thomas was led by the chain to a flight of stone steps which spiralled up the ancient tower of the castle. The steps were so narrow that the gaoler could only just squeeze himself up them. The iron ring was rusty and cut into Thomas’s neck, and his hands were still bound. His legs were shaking and his eyes refused to focus. From inside low doors leading off the steps at intervals came the sounds of human beings in pain. In this tower, prisoners-of-war, convicted criminals and men awaiting trial were all thrown in together. The prison made no distinctions. The stench of filth and misery was overpowering. At the fourth door, the gaoler stopped. He unlocked the door with a
key from a bunch tied to his waist, pulled Thomas inside, kicked something out of the way and forced Thomas to his knees. He fastened the chain with a lock to another chain hanging from the wall, unbound Thomas’s hands and left. The door clanged shut, and Thomas was in darkness.

BOOK: The King's Spy (Thomas Hill Trilogy 1)
10.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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