A Murder of Crows: A Sir Robert Carey Mystery (30 page)

“I wanted her to advise me on the law and describe her feelings as she went from woman to man and I was hoping to write her story as a play and put it upon the stage at the Blackfriars when the hall is ready for plays.
Justicia or The Woman at Law
. How could I possibly miss such a chance?”

Perhaps he had been unfair to the poet. “Ay well, ye’d best be quick for Mr. Heneage has arrested her…him…Enys the lawyer for helping the escape of a prisoner of state. Ah didnae ken fully until I saw that and then I did.”

“Arrested?” Shakespeare had gone pale.

“Ay. Heneage raided Pickering’s game this evening. Ah came here to be sure I was right about Enys and then I’m gaunae roust out Carey’s kin and fetch her and Mrs. Briscoe away from Heneage.”

Shakespeare’s jaw dropped. “You can’t do that.”

“Can I no’?” asked Dodd, full of interest. “Watch me.” At the very least they could ransome her before Topcliffe got started on him…her—had they discovered Enys’s sex yet, he wondered. He looked at Shakespeare who seemed genuinely concerned and upset and something inside him said it could do no harm to bring Cecil’s man along. So he took Shakespeare’s elbow and hustled him out of the chambers and down the stairs, down through the Temple to the river where he found Mr. Briscoe still there with the mutinous looking boatman who was lighting his stern lamp.

“Thank ye,” he said, in a lordly fashion, giving the boatman some more of Carey’s money. “Ah’ll double that if ye’ll take us tae the Pool of London right now.”

The boatman looked at the pile of silver in his palm and then at Dodd. “All three of you?” he asked and Dodd said “Ay.” Briscoe was looking at the planks, Shakespeare licked his lips. but neither of them disagreed. “Sure? In the dark, with the tide on the ebb?”

“Ay,” said Dodd.

The boatman laughed a little, leaned over, and put his hand in the inky waters. “Well the flow’s not too vicious for the bridge, but it’ll be fast.”

“Good,” said Dodd, wondering why he didn’t get on with it.

“I’ve never done it at night,” said the boatman with a grin, tossing the coin and catching it on the back of his hand. The Queen’s head shone bright silver from the sixpence in the light from the rising moon. “Well, we’ll see if the old girl likes us or not, eh?” With a little dip of his head, he tossed the coin again and deliberately let it fall into the river. Next minute he had shoved off from the Blackfriar’s steps and rowed the boat round to point down stream at the bridge.

“You’d best hold on tight,” shouted the boatman. “Hold onto yer ‘ats, gentlemen.”

It certainly was fast. The boatman rowed out into mid-stream, well away from likely eddies and whirlpools around the sandspits near the bank. You couldn’t tell easily in the darkness, but the faint ruby lights to their left seemed to be speeding past.

The tide being on the ebb with the flow of the river doubled the speed. The boatman was rowing hard to keep the prow aimed straight. His only guide was the torches hanging on the sides of London Bridge which were not easy to see. As they bounced and slid nearer and nearer the noise of the water against the starlings and the grind and clank of the waterwheels still working at the ends were enough to take your head off.

Suddenly, at a horrible speed they were approaching the dark arches with their single lanterns hung over the two central ones. The wet bricks swooped towards them like mouths of sea monsters intent on eating them. Next second they were under the echoing arch with the dripping brickwork and the great beams going across to brace them, the roar of the waters battering their ears and brains far worse than thunder, nearly as bad as cannon. For a second, Dodd saw eyes peering at them from the narrow ledges and realised there were creatures so poor that they tried to sleep in that awful place. The second after that they had shot across the churning white water and out into the relative peace of the Pool of London with its waterborne forest of ships, each showing its sternlight and mainmast light.

The boatman backed water and caught his breath. “Done it!” he crowed. “Nobody of my lodge ever did that, ha! Old Noah’ll be proud!”

He reached over and shook Dodd’s hand, laughing with delight at himself. Dodd gave him a golden angel since it wasn’t actually his money and the man had done well by them. He didn’t plan to shoot the Bridge on the ebb ever again, night or day, but it had been…exciting.

They were coming close to the
Judith of Penryn
, a long slender ship with three masts crowded on the deck. There were cannon ports along the side and movement on deck. Dodd saw more lanterns being lit.

He blinked across the dark waters and had to shut his eyes and refocus carefully: a small rotund figure in the stern was aiming a pistol at him, he could clearly see the match burning.

“Mr. Briscoe, Mr. Shakespeare,” he said quietly, raising his hands. “Lie down.”

They stared at him, followed his gaze, saw the pistol in Lady Hunsdon’s steady hands, and ducked immediately. Briscoe drew his dagger and convinced the boatman to keep rowing. Carefully, slowly, Dodd stood up and balanced. There wasn’t a lot of chance she could hit him at that range, but you never knew.

“My lady Hunsdon, can Ah talk wi’ yer ladyship?”

“If you have any information on my son who went missing whilst hawking in Finsbury Fields, Sergeant, yes.”

“He’s gaun tae Court. Naebody’s taken him, he went off by hisself. I didnae ken until this afternoon.”

“How do you know for sure, Sergeant?” That gun was still pointing at him, steady as a rock except for a gentle movement to allow for the rocking of the ship.

“He used yer money to get his Court duds out o’ pawn, my lady,” said Dodd, coming up with the only piece of evidence that would have convinced Janet. “And he left me a letter wi’ Senhor Gomes.” There was a thoughtful pause.

“Explain why I should believe a word of this considering I think that you are the most likely man to have betrayed him.”

“It’s the truth!” shouted Dodd, outraged to have his word doubted. The match glowed brighter as she blew on it and settled the dag on her forearm to aim better. “Ah, if ye let me on yer boat wi’out my weapons, my lady, ye can kill me wi’ a dagger if ye’re not convinced. Which will save ye the recoil on the pistol.”

The pistol was still steady. After a very long time, she simply nodded. The boatman rowed carefully up to the tall wooden side of the ship. Dodd unbelted his sword, looked at the ropeladder, and climbed it as fast as he could so he wouldn’t have time to think about it. At the top as he climbed puffing over the rail, Captain Trevasker steadied him, a long carved stick in his left fist, and then walked him up some steps to the rearcastle where Lady Hunsdon was waiting. She looked magnificent and was wearing a steel gorget as the Queen had been rumoured to do when the Armada came. Captain Trevasker drew his long knife.

Dodd ignored this and pulled the crumpled sheet of Carey’s letter to him out of his pouch, gave it to Lady Hunsdon. Some of the lines of fury on Lady Hunsdon’s face relaxed as she read in the light of her lantern. “Well, Sergeant?” she said and so he told her what had been going on. After a little more time, she pinched out the dag’s match with her gloved fingers and laid it down. As the tale went on she began to get angry again.

“Is the man completely without commonsense?” she asked haughtily at the news of Heneage’s raid on Laurence Pickering, “What a wittol, eh Captain?”

Dodd added the facts on James Enys’ true nature, expecting surprise, and found that Lady Hunsdon simply shook her head.

“Of course I knew that, Sergeant, I knew they were twins and there was no spare brother. I also could see for myself that Enys had no adam’s apple and walked like a woman when she wasn’t concentrating. I didn’t see any need to talk about it.”

Bitterly Dodd wondered if he was the only one to be taken in.

“Well Heneage has got her and he’s got Mr. Briscoe’s wife forbye to use for anither hostage.”

There was a moment’s silence. Lady Hunsdon had her chin on her chest in thought.

“And Laurence Pickering’s got some plans, but he didnae tell me what they were,” added Dodd. “He said he’d find out where they were keeping her.”

“Who else is in the boat with you?” Lady Hunsdon asked.

“Tim Briscoe, Pickering’s man and…er…Bald Will,” said Dodd.

“Any idea who he’s working for now?”

“Ay milady, he told me he stole the survey Letty had and giv it tae Sir Robert Cecil.”

Her very bright eyes glittered slightly at this, but all she said was “At least that’s an improvement. Why did you come to the
Judith
?”

“Ah had a mind tae speak wi’ this Vent, who I think is the real James Enys. He disappeared in the last two or three weeks which makes me wonder what he’s been at. Heneage arrested Enys for helping the escape of a state prisoner.”

“If he hasn’t jumped off, he’s on board now. The bo’sun’s a cousin of his.”

Dodd nodded at the sense this made. Naturally if you were on the run in a foreign city like London, you’d take refuge on a ship from your own county so you could get back there eventually. Also they might be less likely to betray you. He’d do the same. In fact it might be worth finding out if there were any Newcastle coasters in the Pool since it was a long way by sea to Carlisle.

There was a clattering. First Shakespeare’s head appeared and he climbed over the rail to be followed by Briscoe, who had evidently been pushing him.

Dodd realised he had scuffed his knuckles and made a hole in his hose which thoroughly annoyed him. Still, what could you expect from fancy, expensive, but delicate duds? How the devil did the elderly and stout Lady Hunsdon get aboard?

Briscoe and Shakespeare were looking around themselves nervously at the short, mostly red-headed men bustling about in the lantern light with ropes and barrels.

A man was brought up from below through a hatch, dressed in workman’s clothes, but with soft hands and a pocky face that might have been good-looking once. It was definitely Vent the card-player. Dodd squinted at him in the flickering light and there was indeed a resemblance to Enys the lawyer. He was a little taller and broader in the shoulder, but the hair-colour was the same and the general cast of the features very similar. His voice was deeper and rougher though.

Lady Hunsdon sat herself down on a cushioned seachest with Trevasker beside her, and rested her hands on the top of a silver and ebony cane and her chin on her hands. Bright beady eyes raked Enys like gunfire.

“Well, James Enys, I want a full accounting of yourself.”

The man bowed nervously. “My lady, I asked for refuge on your ship being a Cornishman because I am a little entangled in gambling debts and I…”

“Pfui. You are on the run and your sister has taken your place as a man of law. Heneage arrested her in place of you not an hour ago for assisting the escape of a state prisoner. Well?”

The man paused carefully. “I don’t understand…” He sounded as if his breath was short with shock.

“Och, my lady, this canna be the man,” said Dodd sourly. “I heard fra his sister while I thought her to be a man that she had sae loving a brother he came and nursed her while she was sick of the smallpox and her husband and children had died, and then caught it himself.”

“Who are you?” said the man.

“Sergeant Dodd, Sir Robert Carey’s man. I saw the woman calling herself James Enys taken by Heneage. He slapped her about a bit, mind, but what he and Topcliffe will do to her when they find she’s a woman, I darenae think.” He paused. “And they’ll find it oot as soon as they strip her for the rack.”

The man swallowed convulsively.

There was a pause broken by shouts and an occasional long creak as the ship swayed at her mooring.

“My lady, I…perhaps I should speak in private…”

“You can speak here, now. This is all tangled up with the coney-catching practice about Cornish lands, isn’t it?”

Enys nodded.

“And the killing of Fr. Jackson,” added Dodd, since he thought he might as well. “It was ye killed him, was it no’?”

Suddenly Enys sat down on a coil of rope and put his face in his hands. “I couldn’t think what else to do…”

“Shh,” said Lady Hunsdon kindly. “Nobody minds you killing a Papist priest. We haven’t much time. Oh, while I remember…Mr. Shakespeare!” The bellow could have cut through a full gale. After a moment, Shakespeare appeared at the top of the companionway to the rear castle, looking frightened.

“Go and find your master Sir Robert Cecil immediately and tell him I want to speak to him here on the
Judith
.”

Shakespeare’s mouth opened. “But milady…”

“Don’t argue. Go and fetch him immediately.”

“But what if he won’t come.”

Lady Hunsdon’s eyes narrowed. “He’ll come.” Shakespeare bowed.

A man came running up to Trevasker and whispered in his ear. Dodd noticed the ship moving and creaking more and seeming to move at its anchorage. Lady Hunsdon nodded. “Good, the tide will turn in an hour,” she said to Trevasker. “Will you have the men get ready for a cutting-out expedition?”

The imperturbable Trevasker’s jaw dropped slightly and he stared. “Where’d that be to, milady?”

“Oh, somewhere around here.” She turned her head, looked straight at Dodd and winked. Dodd almost snorted with amusement.