I had stopped listening. I was trying to jog into place ideas that were rattling around in my head. Incent!
‘Lizzie, describe this chaplain to me,’ I demanded.
Although she had only seen him a couple of times, her description was good enough for me to hazard a reasonable guess that this Hugh must be a younger brother of the heretic-scourge at St Paul’s. That would explain how news of my interest in Robert’s death had reached this quiet corner of Kent. Did it also suggest that John Incent had, indeed, been involved in Robert’s murder, as some people seemed to believe? Here was another lead to be followed up.
I looked at Lizzie as she sat hugging Raphael to her with obvious affection — a young woman, old beyond her years but not yet in her prime and still a prey to girlish passions. ‘I’m very grateful that you came back,’ I said.
She fussed with the child’s dress and did not meet my gaze. ‘Yes… well… I changed my mind. Some of us have a sense of responsibility. Don’t think I did it for you.’ She kissed Raphael’s forehead.
I crouched beside her. ‘Lizzie, I can’t make you stay. You can ride back to London with me today if you want to but I have two reasons for hoping that you won’t. The first is, despite all the unpleasantness here, you are safer at Hemmings than in Southwark. There’s a slow fuse of anger and resentment running through the City and heaven knows when it will reach the powder keg. The other reason is simply that you are now one of the few people I can trust. You have courage and a quick mind. You may not like me but I can see that you care about my mother and my son. I know that you won’t desert them until I’ve brought this wretched business to an end.’
‘You’re determined to carry on with it, then.’ Back came the old scowl.
‘I have to but it won’t be for much longer. That I promise you. Did Ned tell you about our meeting with Doggett?’
‘A bit.’
‘It went well. Thanks to him I now know who the assassin is and I have friends helping to track him down. As soon as we’ve done that everything should return to normal.’
Lizzie pouted. ‘And then you’ll have no more use for me.’
‘No! That’s not what I meant!’ I shouted and Raphael turned to me in alarm. I continued quietly. ‘When it’s over we can discuss what’s best — for all of us. Meanwhile, I’ve had another thought. Would it be a comfort to you if I could persuade Ned and Jed to stay for a few days?’
Her eyes lit up at the prospect. ‘It would be good to have someone to talk to. I’ve been so lonely.’
‘I’ll have a word with them, then. If this Incent fellow pokes his nose in here Ned will be more than a match for him. He can hardly accuse a deprived monk of Lutheranism.’ I stood up. I kissed my mother and walked to the door.
Lizzie followed, still with the child in her arms. As I reached for the latch, she looked at me with the suggestion of a smile. ‘I think you’re a fool… but I didn’t say I don’t like you.’
It was easily arranged. I suggested to Ned that perhaps he might make the acquaintance of these troublesome priests and their London contacts. Then, I was able to set off on my return journey well before dark.
Back in Goldsmith’s Row I found an excited Ben waiting for me in my parlour. I had scarcely removed my riding cloak when the exuberant young man blurted out his news.
‘We’ve found him.’
Chapter 21
I took Ben straight up to my chamber and ordered supper to be served there. As soon as we were settled at the table I said, ‘Tell me everything.’
‘Well, as I promised,’ the young man began, ‘I rounded up several friends and we set to work straight away on Monday afternoon.’
‘Did they all obtain leave from their masters?’ I asked. ‘I don’t want to be accused of seducing prentices away from their work.’
Ben winked. ‘I didn’t hear that question. There are ways to escape the drudgery of the workshop when something more interesting turns up. Anyway, we made a list of the more likely drinking places where vagabonds and caitiffs gather and split up to see what we could find out.’
At that moment one of the kitchen girls came in with our food. John Fink entered in her wake. With a disapproving sideways glance at Ben, he asked, rather pointedly, when I might have time to go through the day’s accounts.
‘Later,’ I said, waving him away. ‘Wait for me below.’
As soon as the door closed I asked eagerly, ‘What did you discover?’
Ben hungrily tore a chunk of manchet. ‘Well, the pickings seemed pretty small,’ he said. ‘We spent all day Tuesday and yesterday on the trail. Most people either didn’t know or didn’t want to tell what they did know about a dangerous foreign assassin lurking in or around London. It was only when we met up this morning to compare notes that we began to see a common thread. Three separate people had talked about an inn out at Walworth called the Red Lamb.’
My surprise must have shown but Ben was too busy carving himself a slice of salted pork to notice.
‘Well,’ he continued, ‘I came round here to see whether you wanted us to check this Red Lamb Inn but you were away so we had to decide for ourselves. Of course everyone wanted to go and have a look at the place. No one was willing to be left out. We all set off straight away. So as not to appear suspicious we took a football with us and when we got to the place, we doffed our jerkins and began a kick about on the common ground. If anyone bothered to look, we were just a bunch of prentices practising for the next Christmas match. Just as well we did, too. This Red Lamb place is more like a prison than an inn; high walls all round and a burly fellow at the gate checking all who come and go.’
He drained his beaker and held it out for more ale. ‘We made sure we played close to the wall and soon the doorkeeper was taking an interest. A couple of his fellows came out to watch and, after a bit, we invited them to join us. By our lady, you’ve never seen such hard-boned thickpates. We took a deal of knocks from them, and Jimmy Tungle, the poulterer’s man, had a head blow that laid him out a good fifteen minutes.’ Ben laughed. ‘Your little army certainly suffered its fair share of battle wounds. But it paid off. We were soon bosom friends with the Red Lamb men and were invited in to slake our thirst.’
As Ben described the main room of the inn I recalled vividly its gloomy interior and the grim secrets lurking in its depths. ‘I hope you didn’t attract suspicion by asking a lot of questions,’ I said.
‘We were careful,’ he replied. ‘There’s something about that place. Whoever owns it keeps a score of men you wouldn’t want to argue with. All I wanted to do was find out if they’d heard of Il Ombra and then get away safely.’
Ben’s words alarmed me. ‘Did you ask about Il Ombra by name?’
‘I didn’t have to, fortunately. There was a rack of arquebuses in a corner and I showed some interest in them. One of the men — obviously an expert — took great pleasure in telling me about them — where they were made, how accurate they were… that sort of thing. Then I asked, all casual, if he’d heard about the new wheellocks that I’d been told were being used across the Channel. That set him off! He told me what wonderful machines they were — easy to carry, quick to fire. In fact, he said, there was one in that very house. “I’d love to see it,” I said. “Any chance?” He shook his head. “Ooh, no,” he said. “Belongs to an Italian gentleman what’s a ‘guest’ here. He never lets it out of his sight.”’
I felt a flash of excitement. ‘Do you mean Il Ombra has been staying at the Red Lamb all this time… that he’s still there?’ I gasped. This confirmed my suspicions that Doggett had lied to me about the assassin’s return to Italy.
‘There’s more,’ the young man said. ‘We were just about to leave when there was a bustle round the room and everyone jumped to their feet. A little man came down the stairs. Not much to look at but obviously their leader. He marched through the hall and called out, “Chicken broth for our Italian friend. He’s looking better this morning and I want him fully active by the end of the week. I may have work for him.” He bustled out and someone rushed out to the kitchen to do his bidding. “Your ‘guest’ unwell?” I asked the gun-enthusiast. “Laid up in bed these last three days,” he said. “He reckons good English food doesn’t agree with him — reeky foreigner!” So there you have it,’ Ben concluded. ‘That’s where your quarry is at the moment and unlikely to be moving on immediately.’