The Midsummer Crown (6 page)

‘Wait a moment,' I said. ‘You're telling me that this boy has a nurse?'

‘They all have nurses,' Timothy answered with a shrug. ‘We're talking about young noblemen, not the street urchins you know. They're not nursery-maids if that's what you're thinking. I suppose you could call them surrogate mothers, making sure my young gentleman is warmly wrapped up if it's cold, that he takes his medicine – if he has any to take, that is – that he has regular bowel movements and physics him if he hasn't; that, in short, he's healthy and happy. Well, maybe not necessarily happy, but you get the general idea. Although I don't imagine Dame Copley will retain her post for very much longer. You're right in thinking that at thirteen Master Fitzalan is on the brink of manhood. Indeed, many lads of that age already regard themselves as men. But I gather that young Gideon, the Benjamin of a large family of brothers and of a delicate constitution, has been somewhat mollycoddled from infancy onwards. Certainly, Dame Copley is devoted to him, and the way she's carrying on – the tears, the hysterics – you could be forgiven for thinking the boy is her own son.'

I nodded, staring thoughtfully at the empty hearth and wishing, irrelevantly, for the glow of a good fire. Although only two weeks from Midsummer Eve and Day, the evenings still had a tendency to turn chilly, sunlight rarely penetrating the streets and houses in this overcrowded quarter of Bristol.

Finally, I spoke. ‘You hinted just now at some particular reason why this Gideon Fitzalan has been brought to London. At the instigation of my lord Gloucester was what you said. Why?'

It might have been my imagination, but I fancied Timothy suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable. The expression was so fleeting that, afterwards, I wasn't really sure I had seen it.

‘He and one or two other boys of the same age are to be the king's companions and attend him at his coronation.'

I raised my eyebrows. ‘I should have thought His Highness would have his own retinue, his own companions. He can't have lived all those years at Ludlow without contemporaries to share his lessons and leisure time. He can't have been permanently surrounded by his elders.'

‘No, of course not.' There was the slightest of hesitations before Timothy proceeded smoothly, ‘But they were the children of Woodville adherents, picked by the Queen Dowager and Lord Rivers.'

‘So?'

‘They have been dismissed. My lord Gloucester wishes the king to be attended by people he can trust.'

I frowned, suddenly uneasy. ‘You mean that poor child has not only had his uncle and half-brother forcibly removed and clapped up in prison, but now his attendants, people he's been familiar with all his life – his playmates, his fellow scholars – are also being replaced?'

Whatever his own feelings in the matter, Timothy would never allow even implied criticism of his beloved master. He brought a hand down hard on the stone of the window seat, then winced with pain. ‘You don't understand, Roger! Or, worse still, you're not making the effort to understand. That situation at Northampton posed real danger to the duke's life. Oh, I'm not a fool. I have spies everywhere. I know there are rumours among some sections of the populace that the whole story was a fabrication on my lord Gloucester's part; a lie in order to provide grounds for arresting Rivers and Vaughan and Grey. But take my word for it, that wasn't so. The duke knew that he might be in some danger from the Woodvilles, and of course it's true that he doesn't like them; that he has always held them responsible for Clarence's death. But he was still hoping to work with them for a peaceful accession. I can vouch for it that he wasn't truly suspicious even when we reached the rendezvous at Northampton and discovered that the royal party had moved on to Stony Stratford. I don't believe it occurred to him that Stony Stratford was only a short distance from the Woodville's family home at Grafton Regis. When Earl Rivers rode back with an explanation of why the king had ridden ahead by fourteen miles – and a pretty feeble explanation it was, too – my lord was willing to accept it and invited him to supper. If it hadn't been for Lord Buckingham's arrival to warn him of the truth, our duke could well be dead by now. So he dare not trust Woodville sympathizers of whatever age around the king.'

I said nothing for a moment or two. It was a story I had heard before, and from Timothy, and had no doubt that it was true. But somehow I doubted that the queen's family would have risked killing so popular a figure as the Duke of Gloucester. They could have incarcerated him at Grafton until such time as the king had been crowned and the Woodvilles had assumed positions of power. But even then, there would almost certainly have been trouble on the duke's release.

I sighed. No; taking everything into consideration, I felt bound to admit that my lord Gloucester's reaction, his instinct for self-preservation, had probably been the right one. As was his present determination to rid the king of all those of his attendants appointed by, and therefore loyal to, the Queen Dowager's family.

‘So tell me about this murder and the boy's disappearance,' I said.

‘I've told you.'

‘Only the barest outline,' I protested indignantly. ‘Give me the details. This Gideon what's-his-name . . .?'

‘Fitzalan! Try to pay attention.'

I ignored the rider and proceeded, ‘This Gideon Fitzalan, then, arrives in London in the company of the Duchess of Gloucester, accompanied by his tutor . . .?'

‘Gregory Machin.'

‘And his nurse . . .?'

‘Rosina Copley.'

‘And is taken to Crosby's Place for the night. So I assume that the Fitzalans are a family loyal to the duke?'

Timothy nodded. ‘Completely. Their home, Fitzalan Hall, is in Yorkshire, near Sheriff Hutton. As I told you, young Gideon is the youngest of a large family of brothers, and two years ago, Francis Lovell was granted his wardship, since when the boy has been living at Minster Lovell, in Oxfordshire, training for knighthood. The duchess stopped there on her way south from Middleham to collect him.'

‘Also his tutor and nurse.'

‘Yes. As I mentioned, the lad is of a delicate constitution.'

‘And the following day, he is taken not to the royal apartments in the Tower, but to Baynard's Castle. Why?'

‘I wish to God you'd pay attention!' Timothy exclaimed violently. ‘I told you just now that one of his uncles, Godfrey Fitzalan, is in London to attend the young king's coronation and is temporarily a member of Francis Lovell's household.'

‘Francis Lovell is also at Baynard's Castle?'

‘He's there to support the duke. My lord is very sensibly gathering his closest friends around him.'

‘Sweet Virgin!' I said. ‘That place must be crammed to the doors. Has Duchess Cicely arrived yet?'

‘Yes. That's why my lord went to stay there. He's a devoted son, as you know. But now that Duchess Anne is settled at Crosby's Place, he'll naturally join her.'

‘Very well, so tell me some more about this murder in a locked room. Locked from the inside, you say?'

‘Bolted,' Timothy amended. ‘The top bolt only. There was one lower down but that was still open.'

‘You must realize,' I pointed out, ‘that murder in a locked room is impossible. You are quite sure about this, aren't you?'

The spymaster took a deep breath, his chest swelled and his eyes threatened to pop out of his head, like a frog's. ‘I told you, they had to break the fucking door down to get in there!' he shouted, once again doing damage to his knuckles by pounding the window seat. This time I winced for him, but, for the moment, he seemed oblivious to the pain. That, I reflected with inward satisfaction, would come later.

‘You're certain the door wasn't just stuck?' He made a gobbling sound as if he were about to choke and I began to be seriously concerned for his sanity, ‘All right! All right!' I murmured soothingly. ‘I'll accept your word for it that the door was bolted. At least,' I couldn't resist adding, ‘that was how it seemed.' I settled more comfortably in my chair. ‘So tell me everything you know,' I invited.

FOUR

This time, I thought he might have a seizure.

‘What do you mean?' he demanded furiously. ‘I've told you! Young Fitzalan has disappeared – vanished into thin air – and Gregory Machin's been found dead – stabbed – in a locked room. What more do you need to know?'

It was my turn to sigh and look superior. ‘I need to know when both were last seen and by whom. Were they sighted together or separately? How long was it before either of them was missed? Had the tutor made any enemies among the other members of Francis Lovell's household? Had he any enemies at Baynard's Castle?'

Timothy jerked forward on the window seat. ‘Look!' he exclaimed angrily. ‘My brief is to take you back safely to London, not try to reply to a lot of foolish questions to which I've not been told the answers. You can make all these enquiries when you reach the castle. And good luck to you! The place is fairly seething with people, as you surmised, what with Duchess Cicely in residence with all her retinue, my lord of Gloucester with his – until he joins the duchess – and the Lovell entourage, as well. Because, of course, none of the latter can move on until this business is resolved. Moreover,' he added gloomily, ‘the city itself is bursting at the seams what with the coronation nearly upon us and a session of Parliament in the offing. And don't say you know, because things have got very much worse in the past four weeks since you so cravenly crept away.'

‘I did not creep away,' I retorted, nettled. ‘I told you in my letter all that I knew. If we'd met face to face, I couldn't have added anything to it. Besides,' I continued in a burst of honesty, ‘I had no desire to get mixed up yet again in the duke's affairs. I'd a bellyful of that last year. I've a life and family of my own, in case His Grace doesn't realize it.'

‘Oh, he realizes it, all right. For one thing, you're always moaning on about it.' Timothy grinned nastily. ‘It's just that you've made yourself so indispensable to him, that he doesn't trust anyone else to deal with these sort of delicate situations.'

‘Crap!' I snorted, but I was flattered all the same, as my companion had known I would be.

‘I suppose I can answer one of your questions,' he admitted after a moment's charged silence. ‘Did this Gregory Machin have any enemies in Baynard's Castle? The simple reply is, he couldn't possibly have done so. He wasn't there long enough. He and young Gideon and Mistress Copley were only in residence one night before the tragedy happened.'

‘Which was when?'

‘Sometime late Friday night or Saturday morning as far as I know. As soon as the duke was apprised of it, and as soon as he learned from me that you were no longer in London, I was sent pelting off to this godforsaken city to bring you back again. I rode all the rest of Saturday, all day yesterday and most of today practically without stopping, except to change horses and snatch a few hours' slumber.' His tone was aggrieved. ‘I'm exhausted, I can tell you. I'm looking forward to a good night's rest.'

He smiled ingratiatingly, but I hardened my heart. I wasn't prepared to have Elizabeth sleep with Adela and me tonight – if, that was, Adela was in a forgiving mood – so that Timothy could have her bed.

‘And I'm sure you won't be disappointed,' I said. ‘Bristol has many excellent inns and alehouses.' His face fell, but I went inexorably on: ‘However, don't lie on too long in the morning. We must leave by first light if, as I want to do, we ride first to Minster Lovell.'

‘M-Minster Lovell?' spluttered Timothy. ‘Why in the Virgin's name do you want to ride to Minster Lovell? It's fifty miles or so north-east of here, well out of our way. It will add miles to our journey, and the duke has stipulated that we're in London by Friday at the latest. He wants this business cleared up before the coronation.'

‘All the more reason for us to start as early as possible tomorrow,' I pointed out smugly.

‘But why do you need to go there at all?'

‘You said Gideon Fitzalan had been living in the Lovell household until the Duchess of Gloucester fetched him away to London last . . . Wednesday, was it?'

‘Yes. They spent a night on the road, arriving in London on Thursday. But you still haven't said why you want to go there. Nothing happened at Minster Lovell.'

‘We don't know that,' I argued. ‘Something could have occurred there that might prove to be a useful clue.'

I was unable satisfactorily to explain this very strong urge, even to myself. It had come upon me without prior warning, and I suspected that it could have burgeoned partly from a desire to irritate Timothy and to make things as difficult and complicated for him as possible.

He continued to stare at me for a few seconds longer, his lower lip protruding belligerently, and I thought he was going to refuse. But he finally shrugged and gave way. ‘Oh, very well.' Then he added, ‘If you think you can stand the extra journey! You know you aren't a good horseman. In fact, if you're honest, you'll admit that you're no more at ease on horseback than if you were astride a cow. So don't start whining and wanting frequent rests. I've told you. We have to be in London by Friday, and today's Monday, so we have some hard riding ahead of us.' He rose reluctantly to his feet. ‘I suppose now I'd better go and find lodgings at one of your excellent inns –' he managed to make it sound like a sneer – ‘and leave you to your fond farewells. I'll see you at sun-up, then, at the livery stables in Bell Lane. Don't be late.'