Frost Fair (20 page)

    'Captain Harvest, I believe,' said Christopher Redmayne.

    'At your service, sir,' replied the other. 'How did you know my name?'

    'You are not difficult to recognise.'

    Harvest peered at him. 'Nor are you, my friend, unless I'm deceived. I see a distinct family likeness to a certain gentleman who is at present domiciled in Newgate prison. Am I right, Mr Redmayne?'

    'You are, indeed. I'm Henry's brother, Christopher.'

    "Then you've obviously not come to play cards with me.'

    'I've been warned against that.'

    'Rightly so,' said Harvest with a chuckle. 'Well, sir, I can guess why you are looking for me. I'm also mightily impressed that you found me. For a whole host of reasons, I like to cover my tracks.'

    'Jonathan Bale discovered that.'

    'Ah, yes. The earnest constable.'

    'He gave me a list of your haunts. One led on to another.'

    'You've been a veritable bloodhound, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Mr Bale told me that I would have to be,' said Christopher, realising how exact his friend's description of the captain had been. 'He spoke with your landlord today. It seems that you quit your lodgings and forgot to pay your rent.'

    'That oversight will soon be repaired,' promised Harvest, tapping his purse. 'One good day with pack of cards can make all the difference.' He moved the candle nearer to Christopher so that it lit up his face. 'Yes, there's a definite likeness but it's not strong. You look so much healthier than your brother. Henry boasted about you from time to time. An architect, I hear.'

    'True.'

    'An honourable profession. Unlike the one that your brother follows.'

    'He does valuable work at the Navy Office.'

    'On the rare occasions when he actually goes there. It's no wonder that the Dutch surprised us in the Medway if the fate of our navy is in the hands of people like Henry Redmayne.' He gave a snort of disgust. "Thank Heaven that we have an army!'

    'You fought against the Dutch?'

    'That's how I earned my commission.'

    "Then I'm surprised you do not choose a tavern frequented by soldiers,' said Christopher, glancing round. 'If you have such a low opinion of the navy, why do you come to the Hope and Anchor?'

    'I told you, Mr Redmayne. I like to cover my tracks.' 'Are you hiding from someone?'

    'Only my creditors.'

    'Mr Bale tells me that you are denouncing my brother at every opportunity.'

    'It's my bounden duty to expose him for the brutal killer that he is.'

    'Did you witness the murder, Captain Harvest?'

    'Not with my own eyes.'

    "Then how can you be so certain that my brother is the culprit?'

    'Call it a soldier's instinct.'

    'I'd prefer to call it an unfair and over-hasty judgement.'

    'Henry left that tavern with one thing on his mind, Mr Redmayne. I know when a man is about to kill. He'd spent the whole evening working himself up to it.'

    'Yet you did nothing to stop him?'

    Harvest spread his arms. 'What could I do?'

    'Prevail upon him to see sense,' said Christopher. 'Made sure that he went home afterwards or, at the very least, stayed with him to calm him down.'

    'Calm him down? He was well beyond that. Besides, I had somewhere else to go.'

    'Signor Maldini was your friend. Did you not try to warn him?'

    'Of what?'

    'My brother's intentions.'

    'It was Henry that I warned. Even when he was sober, he was no match for Jeronimo. What chance did he stand against him when he was drunk?'

    'In other words, you let my brother go in the belief that he would be the one to suffer in any duel. You've a strange idea of friendship,' said Christopher with sudden passion. 'You sup with my brother yet you do nothing to prevent him from engaging in a brawl that could well lead to his death.'

    'Henry was never a real friend.'

    'So you deliberately sent him off after Signor Maldini?'

    'It was no concern of mine. I had somewhere else to go.'

    Christopher was scornful. 'Yes, Captain Harvest. I'm sure that you did. No doubt you had to cover your tracks.'

    'You are beginning to annoy me, sir,' said the other, bristling.

    'Then I have something in common with my brother, after all.' 'Rather too much, for my liking.'

    'Why did you despise him so much?'

    'Henry?' said the other, playing with his beard. 'Chiefly, because of the way that he treated other people. He was cold and patronising. I've learned to love my fellow men. Henry loathed them, unless they could carouse with him through the night. Look at those closest to him,' he sneered. 'Martin Crenlowe and Sir Humphrey Godden, each as supercilious as the other. What right had they to look down on Jeronimo Maldini? Yet they treated him like dirt. Sir Humphrey was the worst. He hates foreigners. He was happy enough to take lessons from Jeronimo because he thought he might learn something, even though he believed that, as an Italian, the man was beneath contempt.'

    Christopher nodded. 'I've heard Sir Humphrey's views on foreigners.'

    'Martin Crenlowe shares them.'

    'I found him the more amenable of the two.'

    'Neither of them would earn my admiration.'

    'Yet you were ready to spend time with them and with my brother.'

    Harvest gave an elaborate shrug. 'One has to eat.'

    'Who paid for your meal that evening, Captain Harvest?'

    'What does it matter,' said the other with a wolfish grin, 'as long as I did not have the inconvenience of doing it myself?'

    The man was shameless. Christopher could see how he had ingratiated himself with Henry and the others. Captain Harvest had a devil-may-care charm that would have had a surface appeal to men bent on pleasure. The soldier was urbane and quick-witted. Most of those whose friendship he courted would not even realise that he was an amiable parasite. Yet he was loyal to the people he really cared about. Christopher felt obliged to approve of that.

    'Tell me about Signor Maldini,' he said.

    'Why?'

    'Because nobody else had a good word to say for him.'

    "Then you've been talking to the wrong people,' said Harvest. 'Most of his pupils at the fencing school worshipped him. Jeronimo was supreme at his trade.'

    'Is that why you liked him?'

    'No, Mr Redmayne. It was because I sensed that we were two of a kind, men who had not been blessed at birth and who therefore had to make their own way in the world. I know what it is to live in a foreign country where most people turn instinctively away from you. That's what it was like for Jeronimo at first,' he said. 'But he worked hard to master the language and soon began to win people over.'

    'Some people.'

    'Your brother and his friends were always beyond his reach.'

    'He loaned you money, I understand.'

    'He did more than that,' replied Harvest. 'He gave it to me out of love.'

    'Could he afford to be so generous?'

    'He ran the most popular fencing school in the city, Mr Redmayne. That's why he employed me as his assistant. There were too many pupils. Jeronimo was never short of funds, in spite of his weakness.'

    'Weakness?'

    'He was an Italian. He adored women.'

    'I gathered that.'

    'Romance costs money,' said Harvest, 'and he had many romances.'

    'There's only one that interests me. According to my brother, a certain lady was the real cause of the rift between him and his fencing master.'

    'You do not need to tell me that.'

    'What did Signor Maldini do?'

    'He took pity on her, Mr Redmayne. He rescued her from Henry's clutches.'

    'That's not how my brother describes the situation.'

    Harvest laughed aloud. 'You surprise me!'

    'Did your friend confide in you?'

    'Only up to a point. He was very discreet where ladies were concerned. But this case was slightly different.'

    'Why?'

    'There was an element of revenge,' explained the soldier. 'Jeronimo felt that your brother had slighted him. What better way to get his own back? He could sport with the lady and enrage Henry at the same time.'

    'It was no true romance, then?'

    'Only for her.'

    'And who might she be?' 'Your brother will tell you that, Mr Redmayne.'

    'He prefers to protect the lady's reputation.'

    'He'd have done that best by leaving her well alone for she was married.'

    'That did not seem to hinder Signor Maldini.'

    'Jeronimo is like me,' said Harvest, reaching for his tankard. 'He takes his pleasures where he finds them. That's what I meant when I said we were kindred spirits,' he went on, downing his beer in one gulp. 'We are both soldiers of fortune.'

    'You did not give me the lady's name,' pressed Christopher.

    'Why are you so eager to learn it?'

    'So that I can tax my brother with it.'

    'I would have thought he has enough troubles, as it is. Why remind him of a lady who was snatched away from beneath him? It would only torment him.'

    'You are doing that by spreading lies about him, Captain Harvest.'

    'Take care, sir,' warned the other, sitting up. 'I'll brook no insults.'

    'You are quick enough to hand them out.'

    'I speak as I find.'

    'Was Signor Maldini as hot-blooded as you? Is that why you liked him?'

    'We understood each other, Mr Redmayne.'

    'You both preyed on innocent women, you mean?'

    Harvest beamed. 'Jeronimo's conquests were not innocent,' he said. 'Far from it. He had a preference for married women and they for him. Take the lady whom your brother was sniffing after. She deliberately cuckolded her husband.'

    'Why?'

    'Because Jeronimo wooed and won her. He was a very handsome man.'

    'And a vengeful one, too. He made sure that my brother knew about it.'

    'I applauded that.'

    'What happened to the lady afterwards?'

    'Who knows?' asked Harvest with a shrug. 'Who cares? Such dalliances come to a natural end. Jeronimo simply walked away and never looked back.'

    'But she must surely have loved him to take such a risk.' 'She was obsessed with him.'

    'Then it would be a kindness to let her know of his fate,' said Christopher. 'If she was truly enamoured of him, it's only fair to let her mourn him.'

    "That thought never struck me,' he admitted, 'but you are right.'

    'Tell me the lady's name and I'll apprise her discreetly of the facts.'

    'I'd do that myself, if I could.'

    'What prevents you?'

    'Jeronimo never told me who she was, Mr Redmayne. Only what she was.'

    Christopher was relieved. After only a minute in the company of Captain Harvest, he knew that he could never gag the man. If he were asked in court what was the source of discord between the prisoner and the fencing master, Harvest would not lie. He would disclose a possible motive for murder. But he would not be in a position to create additional scandal by naming the lady in question. It was compensation for the effort that Christopher had put into finding the man that evening.

    Captain Harvest got to his feet. When Christopher rose, he saw for the first time how brawny the man was. The soldier glared at him with a mixture of hostility and amusement.

    'Go your way, sir. I'll not help your brother to escape the gallows.'

    'You still think him guilty?'

    'Yes, Mr Redmayne. Guilty of murdering a good friend of mine.'

    'Yet when he left you in Fenchurch Street, my brother could barely stand.'

    'He was not too drunk to stab a man in the back.'

    'Perhaps not,' said Christopher, 'but I very much doubt if he could then carry a dead body to the river and have the presence of mind to throw it in.'

    'I agree with you.'

    'Then why do you still name him as the killer?'

    'Have you not worked it out yet?' taunted Harvest. 'Henry had an accomplice.'

Chapter
Ten

    Jonathan Bale rarely discussed his work as a constable with his wife. Most of it was too tedious even to talk about and he sought to protect her from the more gory aspects of his occupation. His children always pressed him for details of terrible crimes but he refused to satisfy their ghoulish interest. It was his belief that a home should be a place for quiet, pleasant, restorative family life, safe from the horrors that stalked the streets of London. This time, however, it was different. His younger son had actually been the person to discover a murder victim so it was impossible to say nothing about the investigation when he stepped into the house. Both boys were eager to know when the killer would be tried and hanged. Richard, in particular, was agog for any news.