‘What are you saying?’ I came to myself and stood up, interrupting the performance. ‘This was the work of a foreigner? Why say you this? Do you know the assassin?’
The speaker drew himself up to his full scrawny height. ‘That I do not, young Master (he emphasised the word ‘young’), but, sure, he had to be foreign. Who of the king’s subjects would deal in such devil’s work?’ His words drew a murmur of assent from the other onlookers.
‘Then you know nothing! You stood there not ten feet from the murderer and all you can tell us is that, in your precious opinion, he must have been foreign.’
‘Do not take on so.’ The man was not to be put out of countenance. ‘I saw what I saw and I know what I know. It was a short fellow in a long cloak with the hood up and he spoke in a strange tongue.’
‘What did he say?’ I demanded.
‘And I were a scholar who spoke foreign I could tell you.’
‘And what became of this little “foreigner”? Can you tell me that?’
For the first time the grimy leatherworker looked less sure of himself. ‘Why, he headed down Bucklersbury… I think.’ He spun round to point at the narrow entrance to the street of grocers’ and apothecaries’ shops. ‘Yes, down Bucklersbury. Heading for the river, I doubt not.’
‘God’s death!’ I shouted. ‘You make a useless witness. What about the rest of you; someone must have seen what became of the assassin.’
There was much muttering and shuffling of feet but no one came forward.
‘Well, we waste time here. Four of you lift the body — gently — and come with me.’
‘Hold fast, young neighbour.’ The tanner was not to be deprived of his assumed authority. ‘This is a matter for the crowner. We must not move the corpse without his say.’
‘Stand aside, fool!’ My anger burst forth and I half-screamed, half-sobbed the order. ‘This man was my friend and a truer friend man never had. Bring him respectfully to my house.’
No one moved.
I glared around at the faces, dim in the lamplight. ‘This was a fellow Londoner killed in cold blood. We must find the truth of the matter. Take him to my house hard by. There we’ll send for the coroner, as the tanner here insists, and a physician will examine the body.’
No movement, only whispered conversations. Then I guessed the cause of their reluctance.
‘If it’s loss of a day’s wages that worries you, I’ll see that no man is the poorer for a simple act of Christian charity.’
Still they stood like members of a tableau in one of the old miracle plays. Then an apprentice nodded silently to his friend and together they stooped to lift the slain man’s shoulders. Others gathered round to help bear the weight. I stepped forward to lead the way and thus our little cortège bore the body of Robert Packington to Goldsmith’s Row.
By taking charge of the necessary investigation of this atrocity I was, as I think I knew even then, covering over the thoughts and feelings that would otherwise have overwhelmed me. I had poor Robert laid out on one of the gold beaters’ benches while I sent for my physician and also for the coroner.
The coroner was the first to arrive. Master Kernish was a gaunt, black-clad lawyer who was accompanied by a secretary carrying his ledgers and writing materials in a large scrip. He came striding in from the street, where daylight was now doing battle with the mist, and immediately set about establishing his authority. He scarcely listened to my brief explanation.
‘Who sent for the physician?’ he demanded curtly. ‘I’ll thank you to leave such decisions to the proper authority — which is me. However,’ he conceded with a deep frown, ‘since the man has been summoned I will await his report on the cadaver. I suppose it is too much to hope that there were any witnesses to this fatality.’
‘Six unskilled labourers and petty tradesmen,’ I said. ‘I have sent them up to my chamber to await your pleasure.’
He replied with a grunt and turned towards the stair.
In the chamber he seated himself in a cushioned wainscot chair drawn up to the table. The secretary sat beside him setting out precisely his ledger, papers, quill, penknife and inkpot like troops on a battlefield.
Kernish surveyed with every appearance of distaste the huddle of men who stood by the livery cupboard. ‘This is the way I work: I will take independent testimony from you, one at a time. You will wait outside until summoned and, while waiting, you will not discuss the incidents of this morning. I will not have any collusion. The life of one of His Majesty’s subjects has been taken, seemingly in a violent manner. If that is the case then a vile crime has been committed against the king’s peace and the good order of this city. I am empowered to uncover the truth. This will be a preliminary investigation. If I deem it necessary, I will swear a jury and you all, or any of you, may be summoned to give your evidence before it. Everything you say in this room and at a subsequent full inquest will be recorded and you will be under solemn oath to restrict your answers to my questions to the simple truth. I want no opinions, suppositions or accusations that cannot be substantiated. Is that clear?’
There was a murmur of acquiescence.
‘Very well, outside, all of you. Master Treviot, I will hear you first.’
When the other witnesses had shuffled through the doorway and closed it behind them, Kernish looked up at me. ‘For the record,’ he demanded, ‘you must state your name and occupation.’
When that had been done and noted by the secretary’s scratching pen, the lawyer launched his routine interrogation. ‘Our first responsibility is to establish the identity of the deceased. I understand he was known to you. Is that so?’
‘He was Robert Packington, mercer, leading citizen of London, member of the Common Council and of the parliament. He was also one of the finest men who graced the life of this city. I have known him all my life and was privileged to call him my friend. Master Kernish, the sooner we can complete the formalities and set about tracing — ’
The coroner held up a hand. ‘I repeat what I said just now: relevant facts are all I require at this stage. Rest assured that accumulating evidence is the best way of discovering whether a crime has been committed and, if it has, of bringing the perpetrator to justice.’ He sat back in the chair and his tone changed. ‘So it is Master Packington whose body lies below.’ He crossed himself. ‘That is a severe loss indeed. One which many of us share. He was one of this city’s finest sons. I met him on many occasions and know something of his charitable works. There are many who have cause to thank God for Master Packington. It is hard to think that anyone would wish him ill. Mayhap your physician will find some natural cause — ’
‘He was struck down,’ I blurted out. ‘There was blood all over-’
Again Kernish motioned me to silence. ‘We must have everything in order. Now, Master Treviot, tell me clearly what you saw.’
I shook my head in exasperation. ‘I saw nothing. Would to God I had been there moments earlier. I might have — ’
‘Facts, Master Treviot. Facts, facts, facts!’
I explained that Robert and I had an arrangement to meet at the Mercers’ Chapel, that I had come across a group of men close by the conduit and found them gathered round Robert’s body.
‘How was the body lying?’ Kernish asked.
‘He was on his back, feet towards the conduit. His cloak had fallen open and there was blood on his doublet.’