House of Shadows (38 page)

Chaloner gestured to a window, where sunlight was
blazing through the vestiges of some medieval stained glass. ‘Sleeping – this heat is exhausting.'

‘There you have it, Hay,' said York, turning to Yellow Wig. ‘He was asleep, as I told you.'

Hay gave a tight smile that suggested the answer was not one he believed. He had small, bright eyes, and Chaloner immediately sensed sharp wits. ‘You did not go exploring?'

‘It is far too hot for that,' replied Chaloner, affecting nonchalance, though an uneasy feeling made him wonder whether he had been seen.

‘So you were here the whole time?' pressed the shipping magnate.

Chaloner pointed at his door. ‘It can only be locked from the inside, and it has been secured ever since I arrived, as anyone who tried it will certainly know.'

Fortunately, it did not occur to Hay or his companions that jamming a door – from outside or inside a room – was child's play to a professional spy, and proved nothing about his whereabouts. However, the hairs Chaloner had placed across the latch had been disturbed when he had returned, so he knew someone had given it a good shake in an attempt to enter.

‘You must forgive our wariness,' said Hay with another smile that did not touch his eyes. ‘Our beliefs mean we are suspicious of everyone – an attitude that has kept us alive during these uncertain times.' He gestured to the two men at his side. ‘But where are my manners? These are my associates, my deputies, Mr Strutt and Mr Parr.'

Chaloner studied the pair with interest. Parr was a clergyman, whose thin, dour face and drab Puritan dress indicated a fanatic – and thus a man prepared to go to any lengths to do what he felt was right. Strutt wore clothes that were too small for him – an old-fashioned
doublet and loose knee-length breeches that did nothing to flatter his portly frame. His plump face was surrounded by sweaty jowls, and his oily smile was impossible to read. Chaloner distrusted both men instinctively.

‘Preacher Parr is Rector of Bermondsey,' elaborated York. ‘His sermons are…' He flailed an expressive hand, trying to find the right word.

‘Colourful,' supplied Margaret helpfully. She began to back away. ‘Not that I attend church, you understand. Waste of time in my opinion. But I shall leave you gentlemen to gossip. Your friends will be arriving soon, and I do not want to lose their shillings by letting my grandson answer the door.'

York grinned nervously at Hay when she had gone. ‘Garsfield is master of a brig that conveys gunpowder to Jamaica. Quite often the supplies clerks make mistakes on their inventories.'

‘I often end up with unwanted powder,' added Chaloner, taking the cue. ‘And I never know how to dispose of it. However, York says you might be able to give me some ideas.'

‘Well, he should not have done,' said Hay, casting York an admonishing glare, while Parr and Strutt exchanged uncomfortable glances. ‘Not until we know you better.'

‘You can trust him,' said York. Unease was making him gabble. ‘He hates the government, because the Duke of Buckingham despoiled his favourite sister.'

‘Apparently you have vowed to run him through for the outrage,' said Preacher Parr to Chaloner. ‘Is it true?'

‘
I
dislike the government because I fought for Cromwell during the wars,' York went on before Chaloner could reply. ‘And I am still a Parliamentarian, despite the fact that I serve in the new Royalist navy. But
Hay's
grievance is financial. He owns most
of the wharves along the river in Bermondsey, and he objects to the high taxes that the government imposes on him.'

‘A vast quantity of imported goods passes through my hands,' conceded Hay cagily. Then a note of pride crept into his voice. ‘More, in fact, than any other merchant in the capital.'

‘The location of his wharves – on the south bank – means he is obliged to pay an additional tariff for sending goods to the north,' York continued. ‘
Two
taxes – one to unload at Bermondsey, and a second to ferry these goods across the river to the city.'

‘That seems unfair,' said Chaloner. ‘The government is ever greedy for its subjects' money.'

Hay's stiff manner yielded slightly at this remark. ‘That is certainly true.'

‘York says you have two cannon on your ship, Garsfield,' said Preacher Parr rather eagerly. ‘And the current trouble with Holland means you keep them loaded.'

‘Not always,' said Chaloner, suspecting it would be illegal or impractical in certain situations. Was Parr trying to catch him out? ‘It depends.'

‘How much powder can you lay your hands on at any given time?' asked Strutt.

‘Strutt was a navy purser until an argument with his captain drove him to other business,' said Hay to Chaloner, to explain the man's question. ‘He works for me now. He and Parr both know a lot about ships and armaments.'

Thus warned, Chaloner was reluctant to embark on specifics lest he make a mistake that would arouse their suspicions. ‘Is it safe to talk here?' he asked pointedly. ‘Only Margaret said you normally use a cellar, because of the danger of eavesdroppers.'

‘True,' said Strutt, glancing around quickly. The
gesture was fast and furtive, and made him look like a ferret. ‘This is no place for a discussion of fire-power. We should wait until later, when our trusted colleagues will be with us.'

‘There are about thirty of us – all like-minded men,' said Preacher Parr to Chaloner, lowering his voice conspiratorially. ‘When we gather in the cellar, we wear hoods to maintain our anonymity. It is a simple system – you will not recognize anyone, but neither will anyone recognize you.'

‘As you wish,' said Chaloner, wondering how he was going to learn the names – or even obtain descriptions – of the conspirators under such circumstances. ‘But I have nothing to hide.'

‘Everyone has something to hide,' said Strutt. ‘No one is perfect.'

‘
You
certainly are not,' said York unpleasantly. ‘Browne could never prove you stole the provisions that were supposed to go on his ship, but it was obvious that you were guilty.'

Strutt's greasy obsequiousness turned into something harder and more nasty. ‘The Navy Board would not agree – they reviewed my case and deemed me innocent, although I resigned from
Rosebush
anyway. Browne was a brute, little better than the louts who served under him, and I am glad I am no longer obliged to deal with him.'

‘He was my friend,' said York coldly.

Strutt shot him an ambiguous look. ‘I know.'

 

Hay and his deputies had arranged a light supper of bread and pies before the meeting, and they invited York and Chaloner to share it with them. Chaloner hesitated, suspecting he would be quizzed about his mythical ship and knowing it would be only a matter of time before he was tripped up in a maritime inconsistency. However, he had already used the excuse of
fatigue, and felt he had no choice but to join them in the dilapidated chamber that passed as Bermondsey House's main hall. Margaret also graced them with her presence, reluctantly setting aside her pipe in order to eat. Halfway through the meal, a foppish man slouched into the room and flung himself on a bench.

‘This weather!' he drawled, reaching for the wine jug. ‘You could fry an egg on me, I am so hot!'

‘My grandson,' said Margaret, eyeing him with disapproval. ‘You can thank him for your being here today, because I would never have sunk this low if he had not gambled away our fortune.'

‘You spent a fair bit of it yourself,' retorted Castell, draining his cup and filling it again. ‘You had an eye for fine clothes, handsome beaux and gay balls, so do not blame it all on me.'

Margaret cackled. ‘Well, it was good while it lasted. Who has some tobacco? I am out again.'

‘Tobacco is an agent of the devil,' declared Rector Parr grimly. His black clothes hung loosely on his skeletal frame, adding to the overall impression of dour self-denial and austerity. Chaloner noted that even his friends seemed to find his unsmiling piety a bit of a trial, and concluded that Parr was not a man who would be invited to many parties. ‘And those who partake of it risk their immortal souls.'

‘The devil had my immortal soul years ago,' retorted Margaret. ‘And good luck to him.'

‘He will need it,' murmured York, passing her a pouch. Although he had shown restraint with the wine over his dinner, he was still far from sober, and Chaloner sincerely hoped he would not lose control of himself and say or do something to give them away.

‘I saw Widow Browne today,' said Strutt. He shot York a spiteful glance, to ensure the captain knew he was
about to be baited. ‘Her husband must have left her badly off, because she would never have donned such tatty clothes when he was alive. You should have seen the state of her gorget!'

‘I heard his death came at an unfortunate time,' said Hay, speaking before York could reply. ‘Apparently he had invested everything in a special cargo he was to transport on
Rosebush
and his demise meant his family lost everything.'

‘Shame,' said Strutt with a gleeful smile. ‘However, Browne damaged me with his false accusations, so I cannot find it in my heart to feel sorry for him.'

‘God does not approve of grudges,' announced Preacher Parr. ‘Not unless they are just.'

‘Who decides what is just?' asked Chaloner provocatively.

‘God's faithful servants,' replied the clergyman loftily. ‘Men like
me
. It was my misfortune to run foul of Browne when I tried to preach the good word to his crew – he had me thrown into the river. He was a violent brute, and God gave him a violent end.'

Chaloner recalled that Hannah and York had mentioned some past disagreement between Browne and the preacher, which had led them to put Parr on their list of suspects. The incident did not sound very serious, and Chaloner imagined Browne would barely have given it a second thought, but he could imagine how it might have gnawed at Parr's fanatical heart. He would see it as an insult to his crusade for God and might well have decided to avenge himself with a convenient rock.

‘It was a pity one of his sailors decided to brain him,' said Hay, his expression unreadable. ‘Personally, I thought him a decent fellow, though we only exchanged a few words before he died.'

‘Were you present when he was murdered, then?'
asked Chaloner innocently. ‘I thought he was killed in Jamaica House.'

‘No, he was attacked
here
,' said Margaret, almost invisible in a cloud of smoke. ‘But Hay arranged for the law courts to be
told
it was Jamaica House, which was nice of him. I do not want my lovely home associated with sordid doings like murder, after all.'

There was a short, awkward pause, during which everyone thought, but did not say, that most people would consider treason and sedition just as sordid as an unlawful killing. Meanwhile, Hay grimaced, annoyed that she should expose his meddling with justice quite so readily.

Chaloner smiled pleasantly at the shipping magnate. ‘What did you and Browne exchange a “few words” about?' he asked.

Hay was wary. ‘I cannot recall now. The incident was weeks ago, in April. Why do you ask?'

Chaloner shrugged. ‘Because I dislike the notion of seamen lobbing rocks at us senior officers. What led Walduck to strike Browne dead?'

Hay was thoughtful. ‘Well, Walduck did not draw his sword to protect Browne the moment he heard footsteps approaching, and Browne reprimanded him for it. That annoyed him – I could tell.'

‘Enough to want to kill him?' asked Chaloner. It did not sound a very powerful motive.

‘Criminals do not behave in the same way as normal men,' said Hay sagely. ‘After the spat, I led Browne to the cellar where we hold our meetings, but he must have lagged behind, because when I reached the bottom of the steps I looked back to find him gone. I assumed he was with Strutt.'

‘He was not,' said Strutt, a little too quickly. ‘I disliked him and did not want to be in his company. I kept my distance. His men were with him – I was not.'

It was a very vehement denial, and Chaloner regarded the purser curiously. Just how angry had he been about Browne's accusations regarding his honesty? Strutt was bitter and spiteful, just the kind of man to throw a stone at an enemy rather than confront him with a sword.

‘I was some way away when the commotion started,' added the preacher helpfully. ‘But I saw Walduck throw the rock.'

‘How?' asked Chaloner sceptically. ‘If you were some distance off, then how could you have seen what happened? Further, I understand this meeting was late at night, so it would have been dark.'

The rector grimaced. ‘Well, perhaps I did not actually
see
the missile in flight, but it was obvious what Walduck had done. He made no attempt to deny the charge when I accused him of it.'

‘He just stood there,' agreed Strutt, ‘and refused to answer questions. All he said – kept repeating – was that masonry from the house had dropped on Browne.'

‘Wicked lies,' said Castell, reaching for more wine. Margaret nodded fervent agreement. ‘Our masonry has never hit anyone before.'

Hay continued his tale. ‘When I went to see what had happened, Browne was lying on the ground. His two sailors were leaning over him, and – as Parr just said – it was obvious that one had taken the opportunity to commit murder.'

‘Did they run away when you came?' asked Chaloner.

‘No. They said they had been walking along behind him when he had just collapsed. Walduck was astonished when we later arrested him. He told us we would never be able to prove it.'

‘You should have seen his face at the trial,' crowed Strutt. ‘He could not
believe
the jury's verdict and kept insisting that masonry was to blame. A lump
did
fall, as it happened, but it was too far away to have hit Browne.'