‘Luke, please, mistress.’
‘Then it will have to be Tyballis,’ she insisted. ‘And so, dear Luke, I should love to know anything you feel free to tell me about Andrew. He is, you see, becoming rather important to me.’ She paused, blushing slightly. ‘I suppose you’ll think I have shockingly loose morals, but you see, I’ve grown exceedingly attached to him. He’s remarkably kind, as you must know. And most protective. Like you, I can say Mister Cobham has, in effect, rescued me from my previous life. I owe him a great deal.’
Luke nodded politely. ‘Then we both owe him the respect not to speak out of turn. Let us discuss other matters.’
Tyballis thought a moment. Finally she said, ‘I wouldn’t want to speak against Drew behind his back. But perhaps, in all innocence, if you could tell me a little about his background? I know nothing of him, except he did mention his name isn’t even Cobham. I gather he likes to adopt secret identities. His work is so dangerous, of course, so he needs anonymity.’
Luke’s room was sparsely furnished and spotlessly clean, and the door to his bedchamber beyond was firmly closed. Only his scriptoria beneath the slanted gable window appeared busily crowded, spread with books, parchments, papers and quills. The faint smell of gall ink was the solitary disturbance in the small scrubbed chamber and Tyballis was reminded of a monk’s cell. She tried not to look around with too much curiosity.
‘I understand,’ he said, ‘and if you are on the threshold of becoming, let us say, more than a casual friend of his, then perhaps I am duty bound to mention a few matters. But I cannot say much. Please do not press me, mistress.’
‘Tyballis. And I won’t. But how did you meet him?’
‘I hope you will not be shocked,’ Luke said softly, ‘if I admit it was during threat of excommunication. Mister Cobham came to the monastery to obtain help in overcoming – but no matter, the reasons are irrelevant now. We were much in each other’s company for some weeks. Since during that time he confessed many things to me, I felt free to confess also to him, admitting my profound dissatisfaction with the life of absolute dedication to Holy Mother Church. I felt myself too worldly for monastic sacrifice.’
Tyballis clasped her hands a little tighter. ‘Drew was threatened with excommunication? Whatever did he do?’
Luke shook his head. ‘That I must not say. Although his talks with me were not strictly under the mantle of the confessional, doubtless he saw me in the guise of a man of the cloth and I consider myself bound to secrecy. I believe he has been equally circumspect as to my own difficulties.’
‘I don’t blame you for not wanting to be a monk,’ Tyballis nodded, now a little abstracted. ‘The really dedicated clergy must feel terribly stifled, poor souls, and perhaps quite lonely. I’m surprised you haven’t married, Luke, now you’re free.’
Luke Parris blushed. ‘I do not have such desires, not at all. I despise man’s lust for flesh. My nature is too serious, too modest.’
Tyballis remembered Davey Lyttle’s rude remarks about pederasty and smiled. ‘Well that’s entirely your own business, Luke. But how did you escape from the monastery? Did Drew help you out of a window? Did you gallop off into the night?’
‘No, no. Nothing of that sort.’ Luke laughed. ‘Indeed, it was all managed quite legally and with great propriety. Afterwards, Andrew kindly offered me unlimited hospitality without obligation, and I appreciated that. So, you see, despite what I know, I must not speak.’
‘Despite what you know? And is what you know so terribly bad?’
‘Some. But like all the Lord’s creations, there is also much good. You have seen the better side of Mister Cobham, I think. Let that suffice.’
‘And his name?’ Tyballis insisted, feeling uncomfortably hot. ‘If it isn’t Cobham, or Feayton – do you know what it really is?’
‘I do. But I cannot say.’ Luke was looking equally uncomfortable.
‘Oh dear.’ Tyballis sighed and shook her head. ‘Just tell me one thing, Luke,’ she continued. ‘To your knowledge, has Drew ever been married? Or perhaps, just perhaps, since he hides his real name – is he married now? That’s not a terrible thing to divulge, and I think I have a right to know. Can you tell me that?’
But she received no answer. As Luke Parris prepared his reply, a shrill scream vibrated so loudly and from so close, that both Tyballis and Luke stopped and stared. Tyballis was up first and running to the door, out and down the winding attic stairs. Her feet slipped as the scream echoed as if rebounding. She was unutterably relieved when she realised the large shoulders she bumped into along the darkened corridor belonged to Andrew Cobham. They both then turned, watching the shadowed figure that approached them.
Tyballis saw his sword unsheathed in one hand, a knife in the other as he pushed her behind him and stood wide-legged, now blocking the stranger’s approach. ‘What,’ he demanded, ‘are you doing here? I’ve long forbidden you entrance to my home.’
The other man stopped. He also held a knife. It was bloodstained. ‘The bitch crossed me,’ he hissed. ‘Then wanted me back. I won’t stand for her games. Nor yours. You pretend to be mighty grand, mister, but you’re shit, just like she is. You’ve gone and got another trollop for bedding now, I hear. So, what d’you care about Lizzie? Let me finish the ugly bitch, and be damned.’
Andrew took one step forward. ‘While in my house Elizabeth is under my protection.’ His voice sounded cold and distant and Tyballis shrank back. ‘If you have injured her, step aside while I see to her. Your relationship gives you no rights that I recognise. If you do not stand aside, Oliver, I will kill you.’
‘Kill me?’ The other man sniggered. ‘There’s plenty tried, and ended floating in the Thames for their troubles. The most feared bastard on the streets, I am. D’you not know me, Andrew fucking Cobham? My sister’s a simple whore, all right, but me, I swive with the devil.’
Andrew Cobham walked forwards, thrusting his sword back into its scabbard but kept hold of his knife. ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ he said. ‘Lucifer is known for his execrable taste. But I’ve no interest in what filth you shove up your arse, Oliver. I give you one last chance to leave my house.’
Oliver raised his bloody knife. ‘Come on, you bugger. Try me.’
It was too fast to follow. Tyballis had no weapon, but began, fumble-fingered, to unbuckle her belt. If Andrew needed help, as it seemed he would, she well knew the pain a whipping buckle could inflict on anyone unprepared. Then everything rushed past her and she lost both breath and belt.
Oliver Ingwood leapt forwards. Andrew stepped aside, one foot out for tripping. The other man stumbled but sprang around, tongue between his teeth and spitting phlegm. Andrew took him immediately around the neck, one hand forcing Oliver’s arm up behind, the other bending his head forwards. The creature yelped and was pushed to his knees. It had taken no more than a blink.
‘Remarkably simple,’ Andrew said. He now stamped one booted foot hard to the back of Oliver’s neck, so leaving one of his own hands free. Both Oliver’s hands were gripped in an inescapable vice behind his back, with his nose now pressed to the dusty boards. Andrew smiled. ‘Your famed fighting skills seem a touch exaggerated, Mister Ingwood. Now, before I break your neck, will you choose instead to leave? I would relish neither the stink of your blood on my floors, nor the reek of your carcass.’ He looked back briefly over his shoulder to Tyballis and other figures running from their rooms. ‘See to Lizzie,’ he ordered curtly, then turned back to the body he had entrapped at his feet.
Doubled over, gurgling, spitting and heaving, Oliver had lost his voice. Andrew waited one moment, then dragged him face down to the top of the stairs and hauled him, struggling violently, over the edge of the first step. Opening his eyes to the drop immediately in front of him, Oliver managed a single word. ‘Help.’