Wheel of Fate (10 page)

‘So,' I said, ‘if, as seems most probable, a highly poisonous variety of mushroom had been concealed amongst the others, any one of you, including Master Godslove, here, could have been the intended victim. In other words, there was no particular target, just whoever was unfortunate enough to eat it.'

Celia shivered suddenly. ‘Yes,' she agreed with a nod. ‘That's what makes us think that someone has a grudge against the whole family.'

‘And also someone who is extraordinarily callous,' Clemency put in. ‘Someone who doesn't care who gets harmed as long as he achieves his ends. The victim in that particular instance could just as well have been Arbella or one of the kitchen maids.'

‘Why do you assume this unknown enemy is a man? It could as easily be a woman,' I pointed out. ‘Poison, they say, is a woman's weapon. And a woman is as capable of hiring assassins to do her work for her as a man. In fact she would be more likely to do so.'

‘And Sybilla's “accident”?' the housekeeper asked, speaking for the first time since the discussion began.

I shrugged. ‘Again, money may have changed hands. One of the workmen repairing the city wall could have been bribed. I imagine you are all in and out of the Bishop's Gate fairly frequently. There would be no difficulty in recognizing any one of you, I should think.'

There was a sudden silence around the table, broken only by the subdued muttering and giggling of Elizabeth and Nicholas, totally oblivious to the rest of the world and its problems now that they were together again. Adam sat round-eyed and quiet, listening to everything that was said.

‘Well, we know at least two things about this would-be murderer,' I suggested finally, when the silence became too uncomfortable to maintain any longer.

‘And what are those?' Celia asked eagerly.

‘That he or she has enormous patience. It's two years or more since Reynold Makepeace was killed. Nearly as long since your illness.' I nodded towards Clemency. ‘Another year since your sister, Charity, died and six months since your half-brother was murdered. Also, he or she is persistent. Out of five attempts, two have failed, but that hasn't stopped further attacks nor, I imagine, will it. As far as our unknown killer is concerned, there is no urgency. Indeed, I suspect that the slow unravelling of events is a part of the enjoyment.'

‘Are you saying that Sybilla and I can expect further attempts on our lives?' Clemency asked unsteadily

‘I'm afraid so,' I answered. ‘You are all in danger.'

SIX

T
here was an uncomfortable silence before Oswald gave an uncertain laugh. ‘You paint a bleak picture, Master Chapman,' he said. ‘I'm not sure that I believe it.'

I smiled. ‘I'm not sure that I believe it, myself,' I admitted.

‘Well, I believe it,' Celia declared roundly. ‘I think Roger is in the right of it.' She dimpled slightly as she called me by my Christian name, but sobered again almost immediately. ‘Three of our number are dead, two have nearly died. The only question in my mind is who is doing this dreadful thing, and why.'

‘That's two questions,' her half-brother pointed out pedantically, and I was surprised to note that this was no jocular correction, but seriously meant. I was reminded that Oswald was a lawyer and used to standing on points of order, but I guessed that, in any case, he was a man who valued precision. He went on, ‘But as you so rightly say, my dear Celia, who would instigate such a vendetta against our family, and for what reason?'

‘I should think the answer is obvious,' Clemency put in. ‘It's someone who has a grudge against Oswald because of one of his cases. We've said this before and I see no good reason to alter our opinion. And I should imagine that that is where anyone investigating on our behalf would start.' Here, she looked directly at me. ‘Are we to understand, Roger, that you are willing to remain at the Arbour for the time being and help us with these enquiries?'

‘Of course he is!' my wife interposed swiftly, at the same time kicking me smartly on the ankle.

‘Let your husband answer for himself, Adela,' Clemency reproved her sternly. ‘If he is at all reluctant, if his heart is not in it, then it would be far better if he took you and the children home tomorrow and left us to our fate.'

All eyes were turned in my direction including the children's, although they could have had no real idea of what was going on. But that didn't prevent their gaze being as reproachful as their mother's. As usual, my nearest and dearest were expecting the worst of me.

And I don't say they were wrong in that respect: every instinct urged me to get out of London while the going was good. But the relationship of Reynold Makepeace to the Godsloves, and the possibility that his death had not been accident, but murder, made a difference. Reynold had been a friend. If I could bring the villain who had arranged for him to be killed to book, then it was my duty to do so.

‘Adela is right,' I said, smiling at Clemency. ‘Of course I'll stay for a while and do what I can to help.'

I did not add that there would be a self-imposed time limit on this offer of assistance. Indeed, I doubted if that would be necessary. The constant presence of three vigorous children would eventually take its toll on a normally childless household; and whereas Nicholas had probably been on his best behaviour until now, Elizabeth's presence would inevitably alter that. Apart, they might be quiet and docile; together, they could put a cavalry charge to shame.

At my words, there were smiles from the women and even Oswald was unable to hide a satisfied twitch of the lips.

‘Good,' said Clemency. ‘So let's talk about something else for a while. Oswald, what's the news in the city this morning? Is there any word yet as to when the duke will arrive?'

Her brother shook his head. ‘But there is a very strong rumour,' he hastened on, forestalling his womenfolk's groans of disappointment, ‘that the king and Earl Rivers will leave Ludlow tomorrow and rendezvous with His Grace of Gloucester some time next week, at Northampton.'

He gave a self-satisfied smile, so I forbore to mention that this information tallied with what I had heard the Abbot of Reading tell Bishop Stillington, realizing that it would be impolitic to steal Oswald's thunder. He was a man with a very high opinion of himself, I could tell. And who could blame him, sated as he was with a lifelong diet of adulation from his sisters and also, nowadays, from his housekeeper? I did, however, contribute the fact that I had seen Sir Richard Grey riding along the Strand in the midst of a great bevy of retainers.

‘Oh, him!' Oswald dismissed the queen's younger first-marriage son with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘A troublemaker, that one. Indeed, all the Woodville faction are hell-bent on stirring the pot and making it boil. The lord chamberlain – or should I say the ex-lord chamberlain, for I doubt Hastings will continue in office under the new young king – is desperate for Gloucester's arrival, even though it's my impression that the two men have never liked one another above half. But their shared love and grief for Edward should draw them together. At least, that's my opinion. For what it's worth,' he added with a self-conscious laugh as he waited for the expected reassurance.

It came at once and in a chorus.

‘You're always right, my dear, you know that,' proclaimed Clemency with a smile.

‘I have never known your judgement to be at fault yet, Oswald,' Celia confirmed.

‘Master Godslove is a very clever man,' Arbella Rokeswood said, addressing her words to me but keeping her eyes fixed on him and basking in the warmth of his approval.

I tried to look impressed, but Adela, who knew me better than her cousins, told me later that she knew exactly what I was thinking. (‘You'd do as well to try and keep your features under control, Roger,' she warned me.)

The children were, by now, growing restless and Clemency, deciding that we had been sitting over our meal long enough, made to rise from the table.

‘One moment,' I said as she did so. Everyone looked enquiringly in my direction. ‘You've mentioned having two stepbrothers. Landlord Makepeace had a brother, then. Is he still alive? If so, can I meet him? Does he live near here?'

‘Julian?' Clemency looked faintly surprised as if this was something I should know already. ‘He's an apothecary and he, too, lives in Bucklersbury. His shop is not far from the Voyager on the opposite side of the road. You'll see his name over the door. There are a good many apothecaries' shops in that street.'

I nodded. ‘So I've noticed. I'll pay him a visit later on.'

‘Whatever for?' Oswald asked, frankly puzzled. ‘I'm sure he won't be able to tell you anything. Nothing to the purpose, at any rate. A good enough man among his herbs and simples, but of limited intelligence I've always thought him.'

‘His life might be in danger,' I pointed out. ‘Besides, he may know something, have seen something, however small, that could help me solve this mystery. I must speak to your priest as well. Father Berowne I think you called him. But what would help me most of all, Master Godslove, would be if you could give me a list of any of the criminals you have successfully prosecuted lately who might have cause – or believe they have cause,' I hastily amended, ‘to bear you a grudge.'

As he hesitated, Celia came round the table and laid a hand on Oswald's arm. ‘Dearest, you must do this. Please. For all our sakes.'

There was a further pause. Then he patted her hand and gave her an indulgent smile.

‘Very well,' he agreed. ‘But I doubt if Master Chapman, here, will get much joy from it. My cases are all fairly conducted. Scrupulously so. Very few with whom I have dealings have cause to complain.'

His half-sister rubbed her cheek against his.

‘We know that, my love. So do all your friends and acquaintances. But a felon wouldn't. I've heard you say often that very few of them ever admit, even to themselves, that they are guilty, or at least that they were not justified in doing what they did.'

‘True,' the lawyer admitted. ‘But in general they are a lazy, shiftless crowd who would find a sustained campaign of vengeance – if that is what this is – beyond the range of their limited powers. However, as you all seem to think it worthwhile, I'll see if I can think of anyone who might consider that he—'

‘Or she,' I reminded him.

He turned a cold eye towards me. He did not take kindly to interruption. ‘Very well! If you insist. Anyone who might consider that he or she has been unfairly treated at my hands. It will not,' he added austerely, ‘be a long list.'

‘Of course not,' I agreed suavely. ‘But I think your sisters are right in supposing it could be the answer to recent events. Female intuition is never to be despised, my dear sir.'

I saw Adela's lips twitch in appreciation of this master stroke. The women were now solidly on my side.

We at last began to move, Nicholas and Elizabeth disappearing almost at once, presumably into the garden. The housekeeper made for the kitchens, to summon the maids to clear the table, while the rest of us returned to the great hall, where the fire had almost gone out. Celia gave an exclamation of impatience and put another log on the dying flames, Oswald announced his intention of returning shortly to the inns of court and Clemency suggested that I accompany Adela upstairs to inspect the bedchamber we were to share and to unpack my own and my daughter's clothes. In the middle of all this, there was a loud knock on the outer door, and before anyone could answer it, the latch was lifted and a man came in.

He was heavily built, with a neat curly brown beard that echoed the curly brown hair showing beneath his flat velvet cap. He was nearly as tall as Oswald but far more muscular, giving an illusory impression of squatness which a second and third glance dispelled. A pair of hazel eyes regarded the assembled company with indifference until they came to rest on Celia. Then they glowed.

He hurried forward, ignoring both Clemency and Oswald, and, bowing low, raised one of her hands to his lips.

‘Celia, my dear! Lovely as ever and looking the picture of health, as always.'

Celia withdrew her hand, blushing slightly, but she did not return the greeting. Instead, she appeared embarrassed, casting a fleeting, half-apologetic glance at Oswald.

Her half-brother said coldly, ‘Good morning, Roderick. Let me conduct you upstairs at once to see your patient. I think you'll find Sybilla slightly improved since yesterday.'

The physician returned the other man's look with barely concealed animosity and said, almost sneeringly, ‘I'm sure I shall. There's nothing much wrong with her but a few bruises, which the salve I left for her should have eased. And the sleeping draught ought to have ensured her a restful night.'

‘Sybilla is still very much shocked by what happened to her,' Clemency protested. ‘Her nerves are in a very poor state.'

‘She was always prone to hysterics,' was the cool response. ‘I'll bleed her again. It will quieten her. Don't bother coming up with me, Clemency. I know my way.'

‘I'll accompany you just the same,' Clemency said firmly, and followed the doctor up the stairs.

Reaching halfway, he turned, looking down into the hall with a softened expression on his rather harsh features.

‘Will you stay to say goodbye to me, Celia?' His lip curled. ‘Or have you some urgent business, as usual, that will necessitate your presence in some other part of the house?'

Once again, I thought that the younger woman seemed uncomfortable, but she answered composedly enough. ‘I will stay and speak to you with pleasure, Roderick, if you wish it. In any case, I shall want to know your opinion of Sybilla and how she goes on. My sister's health is the important thing.'