‘First, we will search for Monsieur Vamier’s Ave beads and we will find them. We know you gave them to him! Secondly, Monsieur Gresnay here is going to rack his brains, and he will start recalling the minutiae, helpful little details.’
‘And?’ de Fontanel asked.
‘We have Monsieur Vamier. If we can prove, and we will, that his Ave beads are highly poisonous Abrin seeds then Vamier is a murderer. Be he French or English, my Lord of Gaunt will have him taken to the dungeons in the Tower where the interrogators will begin to work. Oh, they’ll piece the story together like I did. You don’t know Godbless, do you? He’s a poor beggar who lives in my cemetery; once he was a soldier and visited Venice. He talked of a man who should die but didn’t. And then I visited a Venetian galley berthed in the Thames. The captain was a merry fellow. Of course he knew about the Abrin seed, how the Council of Ten gave it to their criminals. He simply confirmed what I had learned from our librarian in Blackfriars as well as the gossip of little Godbless. A short while later I visited an apothecary near Cheapside. He confessed it was one of the secrets of his trade; he told me all about Abrin’s noxious properties.’ Athelstan ticked the points off on his fingers. ‘Venice, you have been there. Abrin seeds were on the Ave beads you gave to Vamier, he still has these.’ Athelstan gazed straight at Sir Maurice. And, finally, one of those assassins, the shaven-heads you sent against us? He didn’t die. He’s lodged in the Tower. I suspect he will recognise you and your voice. It’s wonderful what a man will do to escape the noose.’
‘Both men are dead,’ de Fontanel insisted. He closed his eyes at his terrible mistake.
‘How do you know that?’ Gaunt asked, getting up. He grasped de Fontanel by the shoulder. ‘How do you know, Monsieur, about assassins who attacked a poor priest in Southwark?’
‘I–I heard the rumours. My Lord Gaunt, I must leave here.’ He broke free and walked towards the door.
Sir John looked helplessly on. The arrest of a foreign envoy was a serious matter.
‘What about me? What about us?’ Vamier shouted.
De Fontanel turned, his face pallid.
‘You are going to leave me here to rot, aren’t you? I tell you this.’ Vamier strode forward. ‘I’ll not go to the Tower! I’ll not dance on the end of a Goddamn’s rope for you!’
‘Hush man, keep your nerve!’
‘Keep my nerve!’ Vamier screamed. ‘Here among the Goddamns! Have my flesh torn, my limbs racked!’
‘Enough!’ Gaunt looked up into the darkness of the musicians’ gallery. ‘Sir Walter, you have heard enough. Let sentence be carried out!’
De Fontanel whirled round. There was a whirr through the air like a bird beating its wings, then the goose- quilled arrows struck their targets. De Fontanel’s neck was cruelly pierced, the shaft going through one side and out of the other. Vamier took two arrows, one in the shoulder, the second deep in his heart. Both men fell, legs kicking, choking on the pools of blood spilling out of their mouths. Gresnay sprang to his feet. He tried to run towards the door. Athelstan quickly seized him, shielding his body from the archers in the musicians’ gallery.
‘For God’s sake!’ Athelstan hissed. ‘If you move away from me, you are dead!’
‘Ah, he’s safe enough,’ Gaunt called out. ‘Only the guilty suffer.’ He held his hand up. ‘Brother Athelstan, you have my word. Well done, Sir Walter, you may join us now.’
There was a movement in the music loft and, a short while later, Sir Walter, accompanied by three master bowmen, entered the hall. Before anyone could stop him, Sir Walter kicked both corpses and walked threateningly towards Gresnay.
‘My Lord of Gaunt,’ Athelstan protested, pushing Gresnay back on to the bench.
‘I wondered what was going to happen,’ the Regent said. ‘I know you, little friar, you ferret out the truth! So, I placed Sir Walter and the bowmen in the shadows of the musicians’ gallery.’ Gaunt sighed and sat down in the high-backed chair. ‘They were there if judgement had to be carried out.’ He smiled bleakly. ‘Moreover, if I am to meet Frenchmen it’s best to be prepared, especially if Mercurius is in their midst. I wondered if de Fontanel would go for his dagger. The death of John of Gaunt would be a great prize for the French court.’ He snapped his fingers.
The bowmen picked the corpses up by the legs and dragged them out of the door, leaving a trail of sticky, red blood on the wooden floorboards.
‘They could have stood trial,’ Sir John said.
‘I don’t think so,’ Gaunt answered. ‘Mercurius was a traitor and a murderer. Vamier no better. The evidence was there but hard to grasp. The French could protest, perhaps even threaten English prisoners in France. They would have certainly worked hard for Mercurius’ return.’
‘And so what will be your story?’ Sir John asked. ‘The French will appeal to the Pope in Avignon. You will have the cardinal of this or the cardinal of that knocking on the door of the Savoy Palace.’
‘Oh, I’ll tell them the truth.’ Gaunt smiled. ‘Well, some of it will be truth. I’ll say that Mercurius was unmasked in my presence; that he and his accomplice Vamier drew their daggers and tried to kill me. I’ll have his corpse searched while Gervase will scurry among the records. We’ll point out that Mercurius and the English clerk Richard Stillingbourne were one and the same person and, therefore, came under my jurisdiction. Vamier was just a casualty of war!’ He gazed round menacingly. ‘What can anyone say? They were a threat to the Crown! Traitors and assassins! Lawful execution was carried out!’
‘And how, my lord, will you explain your discovery of Mercurius?’ Athelstan asked. ‘By an angel come down from heaven?’
Gaunt laughed softly, clicking his tongue as if savouring a secret. ‘What do you think, little friar? How do you think I’ll explain it?’
‘Oh, my lord, you’ll let the dance continue. You and Gervase will suggest, both here and abroad, that not only did you have a spy on board the cogs of war but another one closeted in the most secret councils of the French court. You will let it be known, by whisper and rumour, that you knew who Mercurius was from the start and enticed him into your web. The Papal envoys will be informed about the true reasons for Mercurius’ visit to England as well as the hideous murders he committed. You will insinuate how your alleged spy at the French court told you all this.’ Athelstan sighed. ‘You will be exonerated, a truly virtuous prince, while the French will tear themselves apart hunting for a traitor who doesn’t exist.’
Gaunt threw his head back and roared with laughter, the tears sparkling in his eyes.
‘Oh, I love this game. You are very good, Brother. Yes, that’s exactly what Gervase will do.’ His eyes slid to Gresnay, who sat transfixed like a rabbit before a weasel. ‘And now, sir, we come to you.’
‘My lord,’ Athelstan broke in. ‘He is an innocent man.’
‘He’ll be a dead one if he returns to France,’ Gervase said. ‘No one will believe or accept his story.’
‘I have done no wrong,’ Gresnay burst out, half-rising from the bench.
Athelstan pushed him back.
‘Don’t worry.’
Gaunt was now examining a spot on his hand.
‘I’ll tell you what, Monsieur Gresnay: you go to Monsieur Gervase here. Tell us all there is to know about the fortifications along the French coast. We’ll send a letter to France saying that you, too, were a victim of this traitorous poisoner. You can change your name, take a reward from the English exchequer. Go down to the south coast and hide in one of our fishing villages. It’s either that or back to France.’
Gresnay quickly agreed.
‘In which case,’ Gaunt concluded, ‘all is in order, all is finished. Two French ships have been destroyed, Mercunus killed and further mischief planned for the French court. A good day’s work, eh?’
He smiled at Athelstan, who stared coolly back. Gaunt stepped off the dais and clapped Sir John on the shoulder.
‘Good work, Jack, eh? Sir Walter, this manor is yours, to do with as you wish. It’s a reward, a little compensation for your sad loss.’ He sketched a bow. ‘Brother Athelstan, remember me in your prayers. Gervase, join me at the Savoy. Sing me that madrigal you’ve composed.’
And, with his arm round his spy-master, Gaunt walked down the hall. He turned at the doorway.
‘Maurice, you’ll join us? Or are you going back to see the Lady Angelica?’
‘Sir Thomas Parr has invited me to supper, my lord.’
‘Sir Thomas Parr is a most gracious man,’ Athelstan observed.
‘Aye.’ Gaunt smirked. ‘And pigs fly along Cheapside.’
‘In which case, my lord,’ Athelstan quipped, ‘you’ll find plenty of pork in the trees!’
