The Butcher of Smithfield (24 page)

When he passed a cook-shop, delicious smells reminded him that he was hungry, so he decided to visit White Hall to claim his
back-pay first. He was horrified to learn from the clerks in the Accompting House that he had not been on their records since
June. Sure there had been a mistake, he went to the Stone Gallery, and found the Lord Chancellor in earnest conversation with
a dark, brooding man who wore the robes of a high-ranking churchman. Chaloner waited until the cleric had gone before approaching
the Earl.

‘Sheldon agrees with me,’ confided the Earl gleefully, rubbing his hands together. ‘That will show Parliament who is right!’

Chaloner had no idea what he was talking about, and supposed he would have to read the old newsbooks after all. ‘I am pleased
to hear it, sir,’ he replied.

Unfortunately, the Earl knew a noncommittal answer when he heard one. ‘You do not know him, do you! You
must
settle down and learn something about your own country, not race off to foreign parts at the drop of a hat. Sheldon is the
new Archbishop of Canterbury. He has just promised to make a stand against religious dissenters with me. It is good news.’

‘Is it?’ Chaloner did not think so. There were a lot of people who did not want to conform to the Anglican Church’s narrow
protocols, and he felt it was unwise to alienate such a large segment of the population. He was sure such a rigid stance would
come back to haunt the Earl in the future.

Clarendon’s expression hardened. ‘Yes, it is. There are far too many radical sects, and their false religion is an excuse
for sedition and treason. The fires of fanaticism burn hot and wild if left unchecked, and we must douse them while we can.
And if you disagree with me, you are a fool.’

‘Yes, sir.’ It was always safer not to argue with anyone where religion was concerned.

Clarendon eyed him coldly. ‘Well? What do you want? Have you come to tell me the name of Newburne’s killer?’

‘I think it may be more complex—’

The Earl held up a plump hand. ‘Do not make excuses. I am tired of being treated with disrespect by all and sundry. Buckingham
and his young blades mock
me; the King’s mistress flaunts her latest bastard in my face; and you insult me whenever we meet. I have had enough of it.’

‘Perhaps I should stay in White Hall, then, to learn about your enemies’ plans to—’

‘No!’ snapped the Earl. ‘You will assist L’Estrange, as I ordered. I need his goodwill, because he controls the newsbooks,
which means he also controls the hearts and minds of London.
Ergo
, discovering Newburne’s killer is important.’

Chaloner suspected Muddiman controlled a lot more hearts and minds than L’Estrange. ‘He does not want my help, sir. He said
to thank you for your kind offer, but to decline it politely.’

The Earl’s eyes narrowed. ‘That means he has something to hide. You will look into this.’

‘I will try my—’

‘No!’ shouted Clarendon, loudly enough to startle several passing nobles. ‘You will not
try
, you will succeed. And to add an incentive, I shall not put you back on my payroll until you do. I deleted you when you abandoned
me for the Queen – why should I pay a man working for another master? – and you will only be reinstated when you have proved
your loyalty by exposing Newburne’s killer.’

‘You doubt me, sir?’ Chaloner asked, stunned that the Earl should be suspicious of him after he had risked his life on several
occasions to further the man’s cause.

‘I doubt everyone these days. I know you have helped me in the past, but that was then and this is now. If you want to work
for me again, you must prove yourself in the matter of Newburne.’

Chaloner was tempted to tell him to go to Hell, but
then what would he do? The Earl offered the only opportunity for intelligence work – at least, until the Queen recovered from
her illness. And even then it was possible that Chaloner’s foray to the Iberian Peninsula had been a single commission, and
she would have her own people for more routine business. Besides, he suspected Her Majesty’s main concern would be the King’s
mistresses, and he had no wish to spy on
them
. Some were infinitely more deadly than the Butcher of Smithfield.

The Earl saw he was cornered, and began to gloat. ‘It was your own decision to dash off to Portugal. I asked you not to accept
the Queen’s commission.’

‘Only after you had ordered me to go, when it was too late to change my mind,’ objected Chaloner. ‘If you had made your position
clear sooner, I might have been able to think of an excuse.’

‘So, it was my fault, was it?’ demanded the Earl. ‘How dare you! I am the only man in London willing to hire you – and that
means you are not in a position to be insolent. I am sick of impudence and I am putting my foot down. I mean to show everyone
what I am made of.’

And what he was made of was a lot of petty spite, thought Chaloner. He could not best his peers, so he was venting his spleen
on someone who could not fight back. His instinct was to tell the man he was a mean-spirited bigot, but while that would be
satisfying, it would do him no good. He swallowed his pride and nodded acceptance of the Earl’s terms.

Clarendon smirked, savouring the victory, then reached out to pull him into the light of one of the windows, peering into
his face. ‘Have you been fighting?’

‘Working for you is dangerous,’ retorted Chaloner,
ignoring the fact that he did not know for certain whether the ambush was related to his investigation into Newburne. ‘I was
attacked trying to question suspects for you.’

‘Well, you seem to have survived,’ said the Earl unfeelingly. ‘What did you learn?’

‘That someone called Wenum has been selling L’Estrange’s news to Muddiman. It is possible that Newburne discovered this, and
was killed to ensure his silence. However, it is also possible that he was murdered because of his association with Ellis
Crisp—’

‘Spymaster Williamson is investigating Crisp, so he and his nasty Hectors will soon be a thing of the past. He has his best
man – a fellow called Hickes – on the case.’

‘Do I know Hickes?’ asked Chaloner. It could not be the apple-seller for two reasons. First, because the man had been ordered
to watch Muddiman, not Crisp. And secondly, because the country was in deep trouble if that slow-witted specimen represented
the secret service’s ‘best man’.

‘I have no idea who you might have encountered in the sordid world of espionage,’ replied Clarendon haughtily. ‘So, you think
Newburne’s death might be related to the newsbooks, do you? That is unfortunate, because it means I shall be obliged to pay
the widow’s pension after all.’

‘All I can do is hunt out the facts, sir. What you do with them is your business.’

The Earl regarded him thoughtfully, and Chaloner braced himself for another dressing down. Instead, Clarendon turned to gaze
out of the window. ‘Your discovery about Wenum is interesting. Do you think L’Estrange knows he is being betrayed, and is
trying to
keep it from the government? Williamson will be furious when he finds out. No wonder the newsletters are always so much better
to read than the government-run newsbooks.’

‘L’Estrange is aware that someone is selling his news to a third party, but he does not know the identity of the culprit.’

‘Then tell him,’ ordered the Earl. ‘And make sure he knows the information comes courtesy of me. I warrant Williamson’s agent
has not been so assiduous.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Chaloner with a sinking heart. The last thing he needed was to be used as a pawn in a battle between the
Earl and Williamson. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Yes. You have five days to unmask Newburne’s killer. It is Wednesday today, so you have until Monday. If you have not solved
the matter by then, you can find yourself another master.’

Chaloner left the Stone Gallery feeling his life had just taken a dramatic and unnerving plunge towards disaster – and that
the Earl’s own situation was probably not much better. The man was wise to distrust his peers, but there was no need to alienate
his staff, too, not unless he wanted to find himself with no allies – and in a place like White Hall, to be friendless was
dangerous. He was assailed with a sense of misgiving, not sure he could trust the Earl to reinstate him even if he did provide
answers – assuming Crisp or some henchman did not kill him first, of course. And how was he supposed to manage for five days
with no money? He was so engrossed in his concerns that he did not hear Bulteel calling him, and the secretary was obliged
to tug his sleeve to claim his attention.

‘He is in a foul mood today,’ Bulteel said, jumping back when he saw a dagger appear in the spy’s hand, as if by magic. ‘If
I had seen you first, I would have recommended that you communicate in writing. Did he dismiss you? If so, you will be the
third today.’

‘What is the matter with him?’

Bulteel gestured with his hand, encompassing everything. ‘He hates politics and intrigue, and would far sooner be at home
with his family. Yet when he is home he worries about what might be happening behind his back. That spat with the Earl of
Bristol last spring hurt him deeply, and although he emerged victorious, he knows it is only a matter of time before another
enemy rises against him.’

‘They will rise a lot sooner if he drives away the people who are willing to help him.’

Bulteel gave one of his shy smiles. ‘He will be sorry tomorrow for what he said to you. Are you still helping him with this
Newburne business? He badly needs loyal men, and this is important.’

‘Why is it important? I am still not sure he is telling the truth about why he wants the matter investigated. Is it really
because he does not want to pay the widow’s pension?’

Bulteel looked furtive. ‘If I tell you, will you promise never to reveal where you heard it?’ Chaloner nodded cautiously.
‘It is because Newburne was
his
spy.’

Chaloner was not surprised, because it had already occurred to him. ‘He said Newburne was hired for legal work, but of course
I drew my own conclusions – the Lord Chancellor of England will have access to far better solicitors than poor Newburne. And
then he was dismissed for stealing.’

‘That was a ruse. Newburne was never dismissed – he was the Earl’s man for more than a decade.’

Now Chaloner
was
surprised. From what he had learned of Newburne, the solicitor was not the kind of man with whom any upright noble would
want to associate long term. And the Earl was upright, despite his faults. ‘Are you sure?’

‘He sent us information about Cromwell during the Commonwealth. It was more gossip than genuine intelligence, if the truth
be told, but the Earl was grateful anyway. Then he kept us appraised of what was happening in Smithfield as Crisp began to
rise in power. And latterly, he reported to us about L’Estrange’s running of the newsbooks.’

Chaloner was thoughtful. ‘Then perhaps L’Estrange killed Newburne because he objected to being watched. It would explain why
he ordered me not to look into the matter.’

‘Assuming he knew what Newburne was up to. Our sly solicitor was very careful.’

‘Could Newburne have sold L’Estrange’s stories to the newsletters, then?’ Chaloner was asking himself more than Bulteel. ‘With
Wenum’s help? If the Earl was his real master, why not betray L’Estrange?’

Bulteel shrugged. ‘All I can tell you is that he was loyal to us, and the Earl appreciates trustworthiness. He knew Newburne
was no angel, and that he dabbled in devious business, but he will miss his reports. I hope you uncover his killer, although
you must take care.’

‘I always take care.’

‘I am sure you do. However, remember that Williamson may have guessed what Newburne was doing, and he has a way of ridding
himself of people who cross him.
He will not want you exposing
him
as a killer. Meanwhile, L’Estrange is a hothead, who would think nothing of running you through for an imprudent remark,
and you do have an insolent tongue. Also, the booksellers would prefer Newburne to be quietly buried and forgotten. Meanwhile,
Crisp’s power is on the increase, and he might well have dispensed with a man who knew too many sensitive details about his
business—’

‘Is there anyone in London not on your list of suspects?’

Bulteel thought carefully. ‘The Queen. She had a distemper at the time of Newburne’s death, and was in bed, surrounded by
physicians. But I had better deliver these letters, or you will not be the only one to suffer the Earl’s sour temper.’

Chaloner watched him scurry away, all frayed gown and flapping sleeves. Was he telling the truth? Was the Earl’s determination
to catch Newburne’s killer explained at last? And did it really matter, given that Chaloner was obliged to solve the case
anyway, if he wanted a job at the end of the week? He was about to leave White Hall when he saw Greeting hurrying towards
the Privy Gardens with a violin under his arm. He knew he should go to Ivy Lane and tell L’Estrange about Wenum, but Smegergill’s
death was preying on his mind, and he wanted answers.

‘The Queen is still ill, and her surgeon says music might help,’ said Greeting rather breathlessly when Chaloner waylaid him.
‘He has chosen me to play, so I cannot talk to you for long.’

‘I thought she was getting better.’

‘She is, which some courtiers attribute to a rather lovely air I composed and played to her myself. She actually smiled when
I finished it, and told me I was an angel.’

‘Was she delirious?’

Greeting winced. ‘I suppose that remark pertains to my shabby clothes. Where did you buy that coat? I wish my Court appointment
provided
me
with a decent income. I can never make ends meet, no matter how hard I try. Will you put in a word for me with the Lord Chancellor?
I understand you clerk for him, when your duties at the Victualling Office allow. I could clerk, too, in my spare time.’

‘I was sorry to hear about Smegergill. I understand he was a member of your consort.’

‘I could hardly believe it, especially so soon after Maylord. I live in Smithfield, and Hingston – the organist – is staying
with me, because his house is flooded. It might have been
we
who were attacked.’