When he had done so, ‘To the absent,’ he said quietly, raising it in salute.
‘To the absent,’ I repeated, avoiding his eyes.
‘You must be wondering why I’ve sent for you,’ he went on, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I understand from Timothy Plummer that your wife is with you here, in London. I’m sorry to intrude upon your visit like this, but I have need of your special powers.’
Richard of Gloucester was a man liked, in many instances loved, by everyone who took the trouble to know him properly. All the same, in spite of his gentleness and thoughtfulness towards friends and servants, there was a ruthless streak in his nature. When he decided that he wanted something done, no consideration for the convenience or feelings of others would deter him from getting his way.
After a few seconds, while he contemplated the crackling flames on the hearth, he raised his eyes to mine.
‘You attended the Duke of York’s wedding yesterday. I saw you, outside Saint Stephen’s Chapel.’ He did not wait for my affirmation before continuing, ‘You therefore cannot have failed to notice Mistress Jane Shore.’
‘I saw a woman I was told was Mistress Shore. She was dressed in a pale blue gown that seemed to sparkle as she moved.’
‘I couldn’t say,’ was the terse reply. ‘I took no notice of what she was wearing.’
The Duke plainly disapproved of the King’s chief leman, as he no doubt disapproved of all Edward’s other mistresses, and of the sybaritic life that had turned his adored eldest brother from the magnificent, clean-limbed hero of his youth into the man he was today; still immensely tall, still golden-haired, but running to fat, the blue eyes dimmed by boredom and excessive drinking, the once handsome features blurred by too much good living, the sharp mind blunted by constant flattery from sycophantic courtiers. I reflected, as I had done once or twice before, that there was a deep-rooted streak of puritanism in Richard of Gloucester’s nature that no doubt made him many enemies. His ability to see things only as good or evil, right or wrong, could one day cause him great suffering, if, that is, it had not done so already.
He interrupted my train of thought to ask, ‘What else do you know of Mistress Shore?’ While I cudgelled my brain to remember what Jeanne Lamprey had told me of the lady, the Duke went on, obviously not expecting an answer, ‘She is the daughter of a mercer called Lambert, and she married a goldsmith by the name of William Shore.’ He refilled both our goblets. ‘She was not, however, the only female of the Lambert family to marry into that particular trade. It seems that a cousin of her father’s also married a goldsmith, one Miles Babcary, who still owns a shop in West Cheap. This couple — so my information runs — had an only child, a daughter who, in due course, married a man, whose name I can’t remember.’ The Duke was growing impatient, wanting to be done with the tale. ‘The long and the short of it is, Chapman, that some months ago this girl — or woman, as I think she now is — was suspected of murdering her husband. She was never arrested, never charged with the crime — partly, I am told, for lack of evidence; and partly, I suspect, because of influence brought to bear by Mistress Shore upon the King. But the taint of suspicion still surrounds her, poisoning her life.’
There was another silence as the Duke’s attention again began to stray, the expression on his tired face becoming ever more haunted.
I cleared my throat. ‘And Your Highness wants me to discover the truth of this matter, if I can?’
‘What? Oh. . Yes! That’s why I sent for you, Roger. Mistress Shore is very unhappy that her cousin is still being whispered about by her neighbours.’
My thoughts were racing. Why was the Duke of Gloucester interesting himself in this affair? He disliked the King’s mistress, so why was he hoping that I might be able to clear the name of one of her kinswomen? What did any of it matter to him, especially at a time when he had far greater worries to occupy his mind?
But of course! Fear for the Duke of Clarence was the reason. He was convicted but not yet sentenced. There was still time for clemency on the part of the King. And what my lord of Gloucester needed above all else was as many voices as possible raised on Clarence’s behalf; as many people as he could muster to plead for the Duke with King Edward in order to counteract the influence of the Queen and her family. And who would be listened to with more sympathy than a favourite leman? But first he had to find an inducement, a lure, in order to persuade Jane Shore to embrace his brother George’s cause. So if, at his instigation, I could clear her kinswoman of the suspicion of having murdered her husband, then he would have the necessary bait.
Duke Richard laughed suddenly. ‘Your face, Roger, is as easy to read as an open book. You’ve guessed, I think, why I’m asking for your help in this matter.’
I gulped down the rest of my wine, half rose and replaced the empty goblet on the table beside him, then subsided again into my chair.
‘But what if this cousin of Mistress Shore is guilty of murdering her husband, my lord? What then? What good will that be to you?’
He sighed, pushing the curtain of hair out of his eyes. ‘Then at least we shall know the satisfaction of having brought a criminal to justice,’ he said heavily. And when I did not answer, he asked, ‘Well? Will you do this for me?’
‘Do I have a choice, my lord?’
‘You always have a choice, Roger. You know that.’
But I was not so certain that I did. People of the Duke’s standing never realise how used they are to being obeyed until someone challenges their authority. Not that I was about to do so. For one thing, my loyalty to Richard of Gloucester was as strong as ever, my affection for him undiminished; for another, however hard I tried, I could never quite suppress the feeling of excitement that invariably overwhelmed me when presented with a challenge to what the Duke had flatteringly called ‘my special powers’. Wherever there was a mystery, I could not rest until I had solved it.
I thought guiltily of Adela. I had come to London to show her the city, and now here I was proposing to desert her for part of that time; maybe a great deal of that time. I thought even more guiltily of the Lampreys, and wondered if Jeanne would be kind enough to take my abandoned wife under her wing. I could imagine all too well what Margaret Walker would say when we returned to Bristol and the truth was revealed.
This reflection prompted me to say, ‘My lord, my wife and I are due to leave London a week today with the carter who brought us here. If it should happen that I’ve not solved this problem by then. .?’
‘You will stay until you have done so, and I shall make all necessary arrangements for you and your wife to be conveyed home to Bristol once the matter is successfully concluded. Before you leave Crosby Place tonight, Timothy Plummer will take you to see my treasurer, who will ensure that you have sufficient money for any extra expense you may incur. Now, is there anything else you wish to ask me?’
I glanced at him to see if he were serious; then protested indignantly, ‘My lord, you have told me practically nothing! Merely that there is a goldsmith living in West Cheap whose daughter is suspected of murdering her husband. What is this woman’s name? What were the circumstances of the husband’s death? Who else might possibly have had a reason for killing him? How many people are there in the household? And how am I to make their acquaintance?’
The Duke laughed again, but there was neither mirth nor warmth in the sound.
‘You must forgive me, Roger. My wits are gone woolgathering.’ He thought for a moment before enquiring, ‘Where are you staying in London?’
‘At the sign of Saint Brendan the Voyager, in Bucklersbury, not far from West Cheap.’