Day of Wrath (5 page)

‘Oh no! My father wouldn't approve.'

‘Your father's not here, is he? And no one's going to tell him, are they? Come on, jump up on Harry. He's dying for a gallop. Ride up to the house, and then stop at the small gate over to the right. It leads into my garden. I'll follow. The walk'll do me good. Come on, lass, I'm sure you'll enjoy riding Harry.'

Jane hesitated, but only for a moment. She hitched up her skirts like a dairymaid, revealing slim legs covered by white stockings, and jumped nimbly up on to Harry's back. She looked enchanting perched up there, Nicholas thought. Harry immediately began to show off, tossing his head and swirling round in circles, and Nicholas began to regret his impulsive action. But there was no need to worry. She sat there firmly until Harry calmed down, then she gave him a hearty kick and he was off up the drive like a black demon. With a sigh of relief, Nicholas ran after them.

When he caught up with her, she'd tied Harry to a tree outside a small gate, and together they went into the first of the gardens. The wall which surrounded the garden had mellowed since he'd built it eight years ago, and today it was bright with valerian and the delicate white flowers of climbing bedstraw which grew profusely out of the crevices.

‘How beautiful,' she said. ‘How perfectly beautiful.'

‘I suppose it is,' he said, suddenly seeing the garden through her eyes. ‘I call it my “pleasance”. Mary designed it and I simply tell the gardeners to keep it as she would have liked it. They seem to have done just that.'

He saw the smoothly cut turf, sparkling with daisies and buttercups which the careful scything of his gardeners had not been able to eliminate, and the neatly trimmed hedges round the rectangular beds. In these beds every type of herb was growing in profusion, including great clumps of lavender whose shafts of purple were just about to burst into bloom. Sage bushes, with their delicate grey-green leaves creating their own back-drop for their purple flowers, scented the air. Thyme grew out of the sanded walks, and rosemary, mint, marjoram, birthwort, tall heads of fennel and dill, lovage and a mad riot of marigolds burst over the confines of their beds and made a jewelled carpet for them to walk on.

Dizzy with the mixture of intoxicating scents, brushing aside the swarms of butterflies, they walked across to the far wall where another door led into another garden. Nicholas opened it and beckoned Jane in. He watched her face light up in wonder, and he thought how happy he was at that moment. He pushed out of his mind affairs of state and the Sheriff's sad investigation, and wanted only to look at Jane's lovely face glowing with pleasure.

The second garden was part orchard, and part wild garden where the grass had been left uncut and ox-eyed daisies and scarlet poppies grew beneath the fruit trees now in full blossom. Honeysuckle hung over the surrounding walls, the lush apricot-coloured flowers filling the air with their sweet scent. Gently, Nicholas shook the low branch of a cherry tree and the delicate blossoms showered down on Jane, spattering her hair and dress with petals.

‘What a wonderful place,' she said.

‘There's more. Come with me through the next door.'

Reality receded. He forgot about Matthew, the Sheriff and a household waiting for his orders, and, feeling as if someone had waved a magic wand over them and they had become an enchanted couple in a mediaeval romance, he took Jane into the third and last garden. Here nature had been tamed and ordered. In the centre was a square of smoothly cut grass, and in the centre of this was a marble fountain shaped like a great fish arching out of the sea, with water spouting out of its mouth. The water trickled out of the basin and into a second pond where fish fled for shelter under the flat leaves of water lilies at their approach. Behind this was an arbour which contained a seat with vines trailing over it, which met in the centre with climbing roses and honeysuckle. There was another pond to the right of the arbour and standing in the centre of the pond was a marble statue of a woman carrying a water pot on her shoulder. Fronds of hair drifted over her delicate breasts, and her eyes were modestly lowered. Between the arbour and the end wall were rows of vines, now vigorously sprouting delicate green leaves.

‘There, Jane, do you like my gardens? They are my chief joy now that Mary's gone. After all the horrors I've seen around me, the filth and the pestilence in the streets of London, the selfish greed of powerful men, the agony of Tyburn, I come here to wander round and relax in the scent and sight of so much beauty. And you, Jane Warrener, are the fairest flower of them all.'

She blushed, and dropped her eyes. Not wanting to embarrass her, he took her arm and led her back into the orchard garden. ‘You can come here, Jane, whenever you like. Help yourself to whatever herbs you require, and if I'm not here, find Giles and he'll give you what you want. Mary always gathered herbs and dried them for winter use. She and I went to Italy, you know, and we bought that statue, and the fountain. Poor soul, she was never strong and she found the journey very tiring. Then she became pregnant and it was all too much for her. She wanted so much for us to enjoy these gardens, but I haven't much time these days. We brought the water for the ponds and the fountain down from the spring and I love the sound of water. Paradise, according to the Arabs, is full of fountains and rivers, and I can go along with that. I want to do nothing else with my life but to tend these gardens and plan others like them. I wish to God that we lived in some other, less troubled times.'

‘My Lord … I mean Nicholas, you've made a paradise here, but you can't escape from reality. Terrible things have happened. I've heard that your steward's been murdered. Do you know who did it, and why? We all respected Matthew. Now you must turn your mind back to him. There'll be a time for enjoying your gardens when we find out who murdered him and why.'

She was right, of course, thought Nicholas. He was as bad as the Prior. He was living in the past. Time to wake up. He had forgotten Matthew. He'd lost himself for a few moments in the beauty of a young woman and a garden in May.

‘I'm sorry, Jane. You're right. This is no time for dreaming. No, I don't know who murdered Matthew. And I ought to get back to see Landstock. We think at the moment that Matthew probably disturbed thieves and they decided to kill him rather than let him live and to witness against them.'

‘Thieves, you say? I don't believe that. Matthew was murdered because he knew too much. He had to be silenced.'

Nicholas turned and looked at her in astonishment. There was a firmness in her voice that took him by surprise. She looked so demure standing there covered in cherry blossom, and yet she was expressing opinions about a murder with all the certainty of a criminal investigator.

‘Jane, what are you saying?'

Jane shrugged her shoulders and her eyes met his unwaveringly. ‘Only that Matthew was a frequent visitor to Mortimer Hall.'

‘So? You're not suggesting that Sir Roger…?

‘No, not that. Matthew was courting Bess Knowles – Lady Mortimer's personal maid. Bess and I are good friends. Now Bess said that she and Matthew were talking together in the parlour when in came some friends of Sir Roger's. Bess and Matthew ducked down behind one of the big settees and heard things that they shouldn't have. You know, political matters about Sir Thomas More and the King's plan to close down the monasteries. Matthew was very upset when he heard this and I had to tell him to keep his opinions to himself. You see, he was very loyal to the King, hated the monks and wanted to see the Church reformed. Bess said he went to see Sir Roger and asked him, as a Member of Parliament, not to oppose the King's legislation. I think it was then that Sir Roger decided to get rid of him in order to shut him up. As you know the Mortimers are very traditional, and don't want any changes. The conspirators must have…'

‘Jane, for God's sake, stop,' said Nicholas thoroughly alarmed. ‘Don't say another word. Thank God we're out here in the garden where we can't be overheard. Don't ever mention the word conspiracy again. Think of Sir Thomas in the Tower, facing execution on Tower Green. And why? Because he opposed the King over the matter of the Royal Supremacy. If you say or do anything against the King's wishes you run the risk of being arrested and I will have to sentence you to a terrible death up on Marchester Heath. And that would break my heart. Now, if what you say is true, and there is a conspiracy abroad in West Sussex, and Matthew got mixed up in it, then you must steer clear of it. We have a ruthless King on the throne, Jane, with a ruthless servant only too eager to carry out his wishes. Don't ever say that word again. Don't even think of it.'

‘Nicholas, I value my life as much as anyone, but I must speak up if we are to get to the truth. As a woman, I can do and say things that men cannot do. No one expects me to understand politics. I'm regarded as a non-person when I go up to Mortimer Hall to see Bess. They don't think Bess has got any brains either, but she's sharper than me, and always tells me what's going on. She loved Matthew. She was seriously considering accepting his offer of marriage. He would have given her all the love and security she was looking for. Now she's certain that Sir Roger wanted him dead to stop him talking. She wants him avenged and she'll help us.'

‘Us? So you're with me then, Jane Warrener?'

‘Of course. I want to know who killed Matthew. And I want to stop anyone else getting killed.'

‘Anyone else? What have you heard?'

‘Only that there is a conspiracy – yes, I must say the word – here in Sussex against the King.'

‘Jane, you must tell me everything. It's your duty.'

‘Only if you'll take me on as your assistant.'

‘Are you mad? You could end up like Matthew. And so could your friend, Bess Knowles. Keep away from this, Jane. Stick to looking after your ailing father. Ride your beautiful mare, marry someone worthy of you and rear a clutch of splendid children. Don't, I beseech you, meddle in politics.'

‘Is that how you think of me? Then you're no different from all the other men, including my father. I might be a woman, I can't help that, but I can think like a man, and I want to help you.'

He looked into her candid blue eyes, and saw that she was serious. Feelings which he never expected to feel again after Mary's death flooded through him. Jane, his beautiful spy. Jane, the beautiful lady of his garden. No, it wasn't possible. Unthinkable. She was not made for political intrigue. She was made for pleasure and childbearing, and the management of a great household.

‘I won't have you risking your life, Jane. Come, let's pretend this conversation's never happened. You came for juniper berries, and juniper berries you shall have and anything else you want. And then you must go back to the safety of your father's house.'

‘How old-fashioned you are, Nicholas. And how shortsighted. Don't you see how valuable a woman assistant could be to you? I wouldn't draw attention to myself. I'll report back here to you in this garden when I've got anything to say. If anyone asks me what I'm doing, I can always say I'm collecting herbs.'

She looked at him so seriously, with just a hint of a twinkle in her eyes, that Nicholas found himself wavering. If there was a conspiracy against the King in this part of Sussex, then it was his job to find out about it and nip it in the bud. Much as he disapproved of the King's policy against the monks, he'd never be part of a conspiracy to rid the country of a lawfully anointed king. To do that would be to plunge the country back half a century into bloody civil war when Yorkists fought against Lancastrians. But to use a woman … And a young and beautiful one like Jane … No, he couldn't do it. Except …

‘Come on, Nicholas. Why are you dithering like an old woman? You know it makes sense.'

‘I suppose you could be useful, but this is
my
investigation, remember. You will only do what I ask you.'

‘My Lord, would I presume to do anything else?'

He looked at her sharply, but she lowered her gaze demurely. ‘I don't trust you, Jane. There's more to you than meets the eye. But if you're going to be my spy, we must trust one another. Has this conspiracy got a name?'

‘I think it's called Day of Wrath. But usually they use the Latin words, Dies Irae.'

He suddenly felt a surge of fear. This all sounded uncomfortably real. ‘They, Jane? Who are they? You must tell me. My God, Jane, I don't like this. You should never have got involved in this.'

‘Me? Involved? Oh no, Nicholas, spies never get involved. They only make reports. Don't worry about me. Besides, I don't know who the “they” are. I am only telling you what Bess told me.'

‘Then I must talk to Bess Knowles. But be careful, Jane. Make sure you only speak to me about these matters. Now, I must ask you this, where do you stand regarding the King's plans? Are you for the monks, or do you, like your father, want to see them turned out?'

‘I share my father's views on reform of the Church. But I shall never agree to the eviction of the monks and the pulling down of their buildings. The Vicar and my father want that to happen. But I respect the monks, and consider Prior Thomas my friend. And of course I am loyal to our King. He might be selfish and ruthless, but he keeps the peace, and who knows, out of all this, something good might happen. Change isn't always bad. No, I'm for King Henry and I think that in the long run people will look back on his reign and judge him favourably.'

Nicholas stared at his new assistant in amazement. He'd never heard a woman talk like this. Mary had never expressed any opinions, political or otherwise. She'd always followed his lead, and had never once opposed him. But Jane was different. She'd make a deplorable wife, but as a second-in-command in a murder investigation, she might have her uses.