The Amorous Nightingale

    'You're here on your own?' said Armadale with disbelief, one hand on the hilt of his sword. 'You're very bold, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Trigg assured me that there were only the two of you here,' said Christopher easily, 'and that poses no problem to me.'

    'What about three men?' Drawing his sword, Armadale turned to Oscott. 'Open the coach and untie Trigg.'

    Oscott moved across to the coach and saw Roland Trigg inside, bound and gagged, threshing about wildly. When he opened the door, however, he discovered that the coachman was not the only passenger. Crouched out of sight on his hands and knees, Jonathan Bale now reared up and launched himself at Oscott, knocking the man to the ground before hitting him with a relay of punches. Before Armadale could go to the man's aid, Christopher tore off the coat he had borrowed from Trigg and hurled it into Armadale's face, drawing his own sword at the same time and leaping down to circle his adversary.

    'I forgot to mention that Constable Bale was with me as well,' he said, feinting with his rapier. 'He's the man who arrested Smeek and Froggatt. Now it's Arthur Oscott's turn.'

    Armadale came at him but Christopher parried his thrusts with skill, dancing back out of range before circling his opponent again. Jonathan pummelled away mercilessly until Oscott groaned in agony and lapsed into unconsciousness. His wife ran to tend him, swearing at the constable then turning her ire on Armadale.

    'Shut up!' he snarled. 'I'll deal with you in a minute.'

    'I claim pride of place, Sir Godfrey,' said Christopher.

    'Come on, then.'

    'Though I think that Mr Bale would like a word with you as well. He was a friend of Mary Hibbert. Your men killed her.'

    Armadale turned his head towards Jonathan who was moving cautiously towards him with a dagger in his hand. A split second was all it took for Christopher to strike. His blade flashed, its point cut into Armadale's wrist, and the latter dropped his sword with a yelp of pain. Holding his wounded wrist, he darted into the house and tried to close the door after him but Jonathan was too fast, getting a shoulder to the door and forcing it open. When Armadale ran to the stairs, Christopher caught him before he could ascend them, holding the point of his sword between the man's eyes and making it clear that he was ready to use the weapon again. Blood was now dripping freely from his adversary's wrist. There was nowhere he could go. He was trapped.

    'Where is Harriet Gow?' demanded Christopher.

    'She's not here.'

    'Don't lie to me, Sir Godfrey.'

    'We moved her this morning.'

    'Where is she?'

    Christopher was about to jab his swordpoint in order to encourage an answer when it came from above in the most affecting way. The song was as clear and poignant as on the first occasion he had heard it.

'My love was false, but I was firm

From my hour of birth.

Upon my buried body lie

Lightly, gentle earth.'

    Christopher looked upwards. The voice was inimitable. Though it was full of sadness, it was also celebrating its release. Harriet Gow was alive. Lowering his sword, Christopher gave a disarming smile.

    'I believe that you have a nightingale in the house, Sir Godfrey.'

    Devoid of his beloved spaniels for once, Charles II was in a sombre frame of mind, reclining in a chair and toying idly with the purses that lay in his lap. His dark attire suggested that he might be in mourning. After tapping on the door, William Chiffinch entered with the two visitors and brought them across to the King. All three waited until he was ready to look up at them with soulful eyes. Christopher Redmayne bowed from the waist and Jonathan Bale inclined a reluctant head. Coming out of his reverie, the King rose to share a warm smile between them.

    'Thank you for coming, gentlemen,' he said, one hand playing with a rogue curl on his periwig. 'I wanted to express my gratitude in person. You have done me a profound service and rescued a dear, dear lady in the process. Such courage deserves a reward.'

    'I've already had mine, Your Majesty,' said Jonathan bluntly. 'Apprehending the men who killed Mary Hibbert was my reward.'

    'Yes,' said the King. 'A distressing result of this very distressing business. I commend your bravery, Mr Bale.' He held out the purse. 'If you will not take the money for yourself, at least receive it on behalf of the girl's family. It might bring some small measure of relief to them.'

    'Indeed it might,' admitted Jonathan, taking the purse from him. 'That's a kind thought, Your Majesty. Thank you for the suggestion.'

    'How else could I get you to accept a reward from me?' He turned to Christopher. 'I hope that I meet no resistance from you, Mr Redmayne. Exceptional service deserves payment.'

    'Then I gladly accept it, Your Majesty.' Christopher took the purse and gave a small bow of thanks.

    'Allow me to add my own congratulations,' said Chiffinch smugly. 'You may have been dilatory in sending reports of your progress but I cannot fault your enterprise. You chose the right men, Your Majesty.'

    'I always do, Will. It's my choice of ladies that sometimes lets me down. Not that I have any regrets in this case,' he said quickly, 'even though this incident has brought that phase of my life to a premature end. The lady in question has been saved. That is enough for me.'

    'One was saved, Your Majesty,' Jonathan reminded him, 'but another was needlessly lost. Mary Hibbert might still be alive, had you simply paid the ransom in the first place.'

    'Mr Bale!' reprimanded Chiffinch.

    'His insolence has some foundation,' said the King, taking no offence. 'The girl was a friend - I appreciate his feelings. But there is a question of precedent here, Mr Bale,' he said, meeting the constable's stare. 'A man in my unique position must not give in to such demands. If I was seen to part with money in exchange for the release of a beautiful woman, we would be getting ransom notes by the day. Mrs Gow is, I have to admit, not the only remarkable lady who has attracted my interest. Besides,' he added sternly, 'I wanted the villains caught and punished. Sir Godfrey Armadale and his creatures will all swing from the gallows for daring to issue a demand to me. Their crimes are heinous.'

    'Why were they committed, Your Majesty?' asked Christopher.

    'Why?'

    'I know that Sir Godfrey was embittered because he was rejected by Mrs Gow, but was that motive enough to put her through this ordeal?'

    'No, Mr Redmayne, it was not. He had another victim in mind: one with royal blood in his veins. This whole affair has been an ordeal for me as well, as it was intended to be.'

    'Did he act out of envy, then?'

    'Revenge,' said the King casually. 'Sir Godfrey Armadale has been badgering me for favours ever since I returned to the throne. He's a persistent man, not easily shaken off. When he continued to pester me outrageously, I was forced to ban him from the Court. That upset him, didn't it, Will'

    'Yes, Your Majesty,' said Chiffinch. 'Mightily.'

    'In abducting Harriet Gow, he was hitting two birds with one stone. A nightingale and an eagle. There was a time when I thought that we might have been two turtle doves,' he mused fondly, 'but that was a cruel illusion. Enough of this or the Palace will turn into an aviary!' He gave them another smile. 'Go with my heartfelt thanks, gentlemen. I will pay you the highest compliment that I can.'

    'What's that, Your Majesty?' said Christopher.

    'I shall willingly employ both of you again.'

    Jonathan blenched. 'Is that necessary, Your Majesty?' he said.

    'I hope not, Mr Bale, but it is a comfort to know that I possess, among my subjects, two men of such rare qualities.'