Carey coughed. ‘Where’s Lowther now?’
‘He’s still in with the Lord Warden.’
‘Is he, by God! Well, go and keep an eye on him and try and see he doesn’t find out that I’m back yet. Go on, off with you.’
‘Ay, sir.’
As Bangtail trotted off on his mission, Dodd wondered what the Deputy Warden would do. For a moment as his colour faded he looked tired and thoughtful, and to be sure, his position was bad. Dodd knew that it wasn’t so much the question of whether or not Barnabus had actually slit Atkinson’s throat, it was whether Lowther could get the bill fouled against him and so hang him. Barnabus might even decide to turn Queen’s evidence to save his own neck and say that Carey had ordered him to do the killing. In London or in Berwick, Dodd didn’t doubt that Carey could muster enough influence to clear himself of such an accusation, but they were in Carlisle where his only important relative was Lord Scrope. And Lord Scrope was notoriously easy to persuade if got at right. It was unlikely but not completely beyond the bounds of possibility that Lowther might see Carey swing for the death of Atkinson, despite the Queen’s liking for him, whether he had anything to do with it or not. Or no: as a nobleman, he would face the axe. At best, with his servant hanged for murder, the blow to his prestige meant Carey would have very little chance of commanding obedience in the March.
Carey set his back against the loose-box wall, one leg bent, took his helmet off and with his eyes shut, rubbed the red marks left by the leather padding and the chin strap.
‘What’ll ye do, sir?’ asked Dodd morbidly, wondering if he should begin making overtures to Lowther. No, it would be a waste of time.
‘Hm? See Barnabus first.’
Carey guessed Lowther would have put Barnabus into the worst prison in the Castle and so they fetched lanterns and the Castle Gaoler and went cautiously through the door that led past the wine cellar to the dungeon in the base of the Carlisle Keep. He wasn’t in the outer room, but in the one behind it, black as pitch and dank from the nearness of the Castle well. It was called the Lickingstone cell because if a prisoner was left there and no water brought for him, he could live by spending most of his time licking the moisture from the dampest part of the wall. Some men had survived a surprisingly long time that way, given that their tongues would swell and bleed from the rough stone. Families paid their fines faster if they knew their man was in that dungeon, Scrope had explained to Carey when he suggested the room be used for something else.
Carey didn’t have the keys to the inner door, but he gave Dodd his helmet, pulled aside the Judas hole and called softly, ‘Barnabus. Wake up.’
There were a couple of grunts and an adenoidal ‘Yes, sir.’
Carey was silent for a moment as his lantern light hit Barnabus’s face. ‘Did Lowther do that to you?’
A long liquid sniff. ‘Yes, sir. It’s a good one, isn’t it?’
‘Any particular reason, or was it just high spirits?’
Another sniff. ‘Yes, sir. He wanted me to confess to killing Atkinson.’
‘And did you?’
The sniff that followed was offended. ‘No, sir. I’m not that stupid. Even if I dun it, which I din’t, I’d never say I did, would I?’
‘Was that all he wanted from you?’
‘Er…no, sir.’
‘Well?’
‘He wanted me to say you’d ordered it and forced me to do it, sir.’
Carey nodded. He didn’t look surprised. Evidently he had thought along the same lines as Dodd.
‘I din’t admit that either, sir.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Carey’s voice was dry.
‘What do you want me to do, sir?’
‘Where were you last night?’
There was an apologetic cough. ‘Well, you wasn’t ‘ere sir, so…’
‘You were at Madame Hetherington’s?’
‘Er…yessir.’
‘All night?’
‘After I’d been in Bessie’s for a bit, I was there till this morning when the Castle gate opened and I come in. So I’d be here to serve you when you finished your patrol,’ he added virtuously.
‘Would Madame Hetherington testify that you were with her?’
‘I dunno, sir. She might.’ And then, complacently, ‘Maria will, though.’
‘Unfortunately a notorious French whore is not the best of alibi witnesses.’
‘Well, if I’d known I’d need one, I’d’ve got a better one, wouldn’t I, sir?’
Carey treated that impudence with a measured pause that said he was making allowances, but would not make them indefinitely.
‘Did anybody else see you at Madame Hetherington’s?’
‘I don’t think so, sir, that’d speak for me…Oh, bloody hell, it’s started again.’
‘Try pinching the bridge of your nose, see if that stops it.’
‘I can’t, sir. It’s broken.’
Carey was silent for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t get you out yet, Barnabus,’ he said. ‘I haven’t the authority. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea anyway.’
‘I know that, sir. Lowther’s on the up and up, in’e?’
‘For the moment.’
‘You’ll be able to sort it, though, won’t you, sir? I mean, the juries round here won’t be any more expensive than London ones, will they?’
Eh? thought Dodd. Carey had winced.
‘Barnabus,’ he asked gently. ‘You didn’t do it, did you?’
Barnabus’s voice was an outraged adenoidal whine. ‘Sir! You know me better’n that!’
‘I seem to recall a fight at the Cock tavern…’
‘That was different. I never done nuffing like this, sir, never, not that I haven’t ‘ad offers, mind, I just never would. ‘S stupid. There’s better ways of doing it than slittin’ ‘is throat in an alley. Besides, it’s wrong.’
‘Quite.’
‘So what do you want me to do, sir?’
‘Keep your mouth shut. That’s all. Are you cold?’
‘Yes, sir, freezing. I bin in Clink afore now, of course, but this ain’t what I’m used to and Lowther’s bastards took me jerkin and doublet off lookin’ to see if I had a bloody knife, which they didn’t find, I might add.’
‘I’ll get my sister to bring you some clothes and food.’
‘Yes sir,’ said Barnabus gloomily.
Dodd trailed after him as Carey marched from the dungeon, rounded the side of the Keep and was pounced on by his sister. She had her cap on crooked, her ruff under one ear, and her damask apron sideways, with a bundle of Barnabus’s clothes under her arm. She took one look at her brother and said, ‘You’ve heard then, Robin.’
‘I have. How did you stop Lowther searching my office?’
Her heart-shaped face became very forbidding. ‘Simon threw the key for your office in the fire and said you had it with you. I got there just after and when he wouldn’t go I drew my dagger on him and told him I’d stick him if he moved a step nearer, and he believed me.’
Carey embraced her, but she pushed him off.
‘What are you going to do about it, Robin?’ she said. ‘Lowther’s out for your blood. He’s telling everyone that Barnabus did it and he’s half got Scrope believing you ordered him to.’
‘How? I wasn’t even here.’
‘Well, that hardly matters, does it? Anyway, Lowther found one of Barnabus’s knives and a glove of yours by the corpse.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t shout, Robin, and don’t grab me like that, you’re all wet and muddy.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Don’t swear. It doesn’t help. And I would get out of the Castle, if I were you. My lord might even have signed a warrant for your arrest by now.’
Carey was staring at her as if unable to believe what he was hearing.
‘How do you know all this?’
Philadelphia lowered her eyes demurely. ‘Lowther has a very carrying voice,’ she said.
Carey smiled faintly at her tone. Then he shook his head.
‘Well, my sweet, if he does issue a warrant for me, block it any way you can.’
Philly scowled ferociously. ‘I’ll steal it if I have to, silly man. Where are you going?’
Carey chucked her under the chin. ‘If I don’t tell you, then you can tell the truth to your husband if he asks.’