‘What are you saying, little friar?’
‘Amaury Whitfield did not kill himself; he was murdered before he could leave, which explains why he was dressed. He was going down to the Tavern of Lost Souls; he was definitely meeting Matthias there. Nor must we forget Master Gray’s ship, the Leaping Horse, all ready for sea …’
‘In other words, Brother, Whitfield was preparing to flee?’
‘Patience, Sir John. Let us go back to the beginning and the root cause of all that has happened.’ Athelstan felt a glow inside him, a sense of serenity as he moved towards a logical conclusion to a most vexatious problem. ‘Whitfield and Lebarge worked for Thibault, therefore both men would be marked down for destruction when the Great Uprising occurs. Whitfield was worried by the warning from the Herald of Hell and became deeply anxious. He confided in his friend and scrivener Lebarge; both decided to flee across the Narrow Seas and seek sanctuary elsewhere. They stripped their personal chambers in Fairlop Lane of valuable possessions and sold them to Mephistopheles at the Tavern of Lost Souls. I suspect they had other minor items which they would also wish to pawn or sell to that cunning miscreant. Whitfield was continuing these negotiations when he moved to the Golden Oliphant for the Cokayne Festival. He and Lebarge would use that as a pretext to cover their escapes. Both planned to sail from London on Odo Gray’s ship, the Leaping Horse, and our sea captain attended as their guest, probably part of the bribe to take them across the seas.’
‘And Thibault?’
‘He will be furious that his chief chancery clerk was about to desert him.’
‘And the cipher Whitfield was working on?’
‘Oh, Whitfield wouldn’t really care for that except,’ Athelstan tapped the table, ‘we know that the Golden Oliphant houses at least one member of the Upright Men. If so, they would have approached Whitfield to retrieve that cipher.’ He pointed at Cranston. ‘Apparently Reynard was murdered in Newgate, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘I suspect that somewhere on his person Reynard still had the key to that cipher. He may have been mulling over the possibility of surrendering it to Thibault in return for a pardon. Instead, those two felons murdered him, they took it and gave it back to the Upright Men during that fatal affray around Tyburn scaffold.’
‘If Whitfield was so engrossed in fleeing, why did he offer to help Matthias Camoys with his late uncle’s cipher?’
‘I can’t say, Sir John, although I will reflect on that. Suffice to suggest that Whitfield and his scrivener plotted to cover their flight on the Leaping Horse with some accident or pretended suicide, hence that letter and the bundle of clothes separate from the rest which, I think, would have been found floating on the Thames.’
‘And the Tavern of Lost Souls?’
‘Mephistopheles – correct me if I am wrong – pawns goods. Whitfield went down to see to the last of his property, sell all those little objects he could not take with him, be it a candlestick, statue, book or painting, which explains why both Whitfield and Lebarge’s chambers were empty. Mephistopheles would be a natural choice. Any other merchant might report Whitfield’s trading back to Thibault; Mephistopheles certainly wouldn’t. I would hazard a guess that for a few days before he moved to the Golden Oliphant, Whitfield was a fairly regular visitor to the Tavern of Lost Souls.’
‘And so all his possessions are in Mephistopheles’ safekeeping?’
‘I suggest so, and the Master of the Minions will not be forthcoming, which is why the likes of Whitfield go to him in the first place.’
‘Very well.’ Cranston moved the goblet and platter aside and leaned across the table. ‘Whitfield, witless with fear,’ the coroner smiled at the play on words, ‘plotted to finish the pawning of all his moveables and to arrange his own death by leaving a bundle of clothes floating on the river as if he had slipped, been pushed or took his own life. In truth, Whitfield was planning to disappear, and Lebarge with him. They were terrified at what is about to engulf this city.’
‘In a word, yes, Sir John, but someone intervened – who, how and why I do not know. Whitfield was killed, Lebarge panics, hides whatever baggage he has and flees for sanctuary.’ Athelstan laughed drily. ‘Lebarge realizes that Whitfield’s plan has been foiled. He thinks he is now in the safest place. Once forty days have passed, our scrivener will be compelled to leave sanctuary and seek shelter in the nearest port, which is down by the Thames. Who knows, he may still board Odo Gray’s Leaping Horse. True?’ Athelstan picked up his goblet. ‘Lebarge cannot be convicted of any crime, he cannot be accused of involvement in Whitfield’s death …’
‘But he can declare that he is living in mortal fear for his own life,’ Cranston added. ‘And that he fled to protect himself. The sheriff’s men would accept that, they have to. They would also arrange safe escort to the nearest port, which is what our scrivener wanted in the first place.’ The coroner paused. ‘Do you think Lebarge could have been involved in Whitfield’s death?’
‘I don’t think so. True, he and Whitfield were master and servant, but they also seemed to be close friends. Lebarge fled because he thought he might be the next victim. He is, as you say, in mortal fear for his life.’
‘Could Thibault have a hand in this?’
‘For what reason, Sir John?’ Athelstan pulled a face. ‘If Thibault had suspected his trusted henchman was about to flee, he would simply have detained him. Thibault was beside himself with fury because Whitfield died without breaking that cipher.’ Athelstan paused to collect his thoughts. ‘We have three pieces of manuscript. The first is Whitfield’s letter of desperation, hinting at suicide, an accident or whatever. What he was actually going to do, I don’t know, and I don’t think we ever will. Remember, what we see now are shadows, the way things might have been. Secondly, there is the cipher; close, cramped and secret with all sorts of symbols and signs. I have only given it a cursory glance, but it was enough to see that it is intricately locked. I doubt if I could break it. Thirdly, there is that drawing of the two triangles and the list of saints, which is probably Whitfield’s work. He had begun to unravel the mystery; perhaps I might make sense of that. So, Sir John, there you have it. We see the truth but dimly as if in a mirror. We will have to work a little harder to make matters clearer.’
‘Could Stretton, Arundel’s man, be caught up in this murder?’
‘Possibly. He may have learnt something and hoped to bribe, coax or threaten Whitfield into betraying Master Thibault’s secrets. I truly don’t know, Sir John, except a great deal of mischief occurred in that brothel before Whitfield’s mysterious death.’
‘And the Herald of Hell, Brother? This invisible creature who crawls out of the darkness to challenge and threaten – he too may be involved?’
‘Your friend Everard Camoys believed he recognized the voice, yet this herald moves across the city like a will-o-the-wisp.’ Athelstan shook his head. ‘I do wonder if this so-called herald is no more than a figment of people’s fevered imagination.’