“To deliver these hides to The Strand.”
Master Drew smiled broadly. Here was luck indeed.
“Then I will seek the favour of a ride there with you for it will save me an exhausting walk and the wear of my shoe leather.’
“Climb up and welcome. I am already in your debt.”
Master Drew obeyed with alacrity. While old Jepheson prattled on, the constable could not help but dwell on the meaning of the golden chain in his pocket. A Spanish noble order found on the corpse of a murdered man… All England knew that the long war between England and Spain was coming to a negotiated end. Envoys from the two kingdoms were even now meeting in the palace built by the Duke of Somerset. Since 1585 the war had continued, with no side gaining any advantage. With the death of Elizabeth and the accession last year of James VI of Scotland as James I of England, it was felt the time had come to end the long and wasteful war. The old enemy, Philip II of Spain, was also dead and Philip III now ruled there. Six leading Spanish noblemen had arrived with their entourages to conduct the negotiations that would, hopefully, lead to a peace treaty.
Somerset House was on the north bank of the River Thames. Southwark was south of London Bridge and therefore a separate jurisdiction from London. It owed its importance to this position at the farther end of the only bridge spanning the Thames, making it the main thoroughfare to the south. It had further increased its prosperity and population by making itself a pleasure ground for the more law-abiding citizens of the north bank of the Thames. It had been only in 1550 that the City of London had decided to attempt to control the lawlessness of Southwark by setting up Justices and Constables, such as Master Drew, to impose order there.
But Southwark still felt separate and would not be forced into obedience to the Justices of London. It became the headquarters of the rebel Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1554, when he raised an insurgent force to move on London and prevent Queen Mary’s intended marriage to Philip II of Spain. Only the fortification on the northern end of London Bridge and the training of the cannons of the Tower of London across the river on the homes and churches of the people of Southwark, had forced the withdrawal of the insurgents.
It was because of this “independence”, this freedom and laxity in the laws, that the Bankside area became the place where playhouses had sprung up, beyond the restrictions placed on their neighbours on the northern bank. The Bankside had become a haunt of prostitutes, pimps and thieves. Master Drew’s remit was to impose order upon them, but because of the separation in jurisdiction he realized he would be unable to exercise his authority on the northern bank.
Master Drew left Jepheson and his wagon of hides in The Strand and walked to the gates of Somerset House. In the courtyard an officer of the guard stopped him and shook his head when Drew said he wanted to see one of the Spanish delegation or their secretaries.
“You have no jurisdiction here, Constable,” replied the officer. “I can let no one through without legal authority.”
“Master Drew?” a sharp voice suddenly called behind him.
The constable swung round. A man of small stature, crookback, with a tawny-coloured beard and hair, and sharp green eyes, was examining him. He had apparently emerged from a nearby doorway. The officer of the guard stiffened and saluted while Master Drew performed a clumsy bow as he recognized the Lord Chancellor of England, Sir Robert Cecil.
“I thought it was you,” Sir Robert said, with a soft, malicious smile. “I never forget a face. What business brings you hither?”
Master Drew tried to repress thoughts of how Sir Robert had come perilously close to having him arrested for conspiracy to High Treason while Elizabeth lay dying the previous year.
“A matter that may be one of national importance, Sir Robert.”
The Lord Chancellor raised his eyebrows and then waved away the officer of the guard.
“Then, come walk with me, and tell me what you mean.”
As they paced the courtyard, Master Drew, with few wasted words, explained what had happened and ended by presenting Sir Robert with the gold chain.
The Lord Chancellor frowned as he examined it.
“I have seen the like before and recently. You have in mind that it belongs to one of the Spanish delegation?”
“And even worse,” agreed Master Drew, “that the owner of the chain and the body in the house on Stony Street may be one of your Spanish nobles. If it is so and one of the ambassadors has been murdered at such a fraught time…” He shrugged.
The diplomatic implications were not lost on Sir Robert.
“If so, then indeed we face perilous times,” he said softly. He turned back to the officer of the guard and called to him.
“Go to the apartment of His Grace, the Duke of Frias, and ask him if it would not be troubling him too much if he could attend me in my chamber. I pray you, put as much courtesy and politeness into the request as you can.”
The officer went off on his new errand.
Sir Robert guided Master Drew into the building and through to a chamber where a fire crackled in the hearth.
“I have seen the Duke of Frias returning from his morning ride, so I know he is safe,” confided Sir Robert. “He is chief ambassador of the Spanish and should be able to assist in this matter.”
It seemed only a short time passed before there was a knock on the door and the officer of the guard entered and stood to one side.
“His Grace Juan de Velasco Frias, Duke of Frias, Constable of Castile,” he announced solemnly.
A tall, dark and elegantly dressed man entered and made a sweeping courtly bow to them.
Sir Robert went forward to greet him.
“Your Grace, forgive me for disturbing your morning’s preoccupations, but we must ask for your advice and information on a matter of pressing concern to both our nations.”
The Duke smiled with a cursory movement of his facial muscles. His dark eyes looking enquiringly at Master Drew, taking in his more shabby clothing and appearance, which clearly did not place him as a courtier or officer of state.
“It is what I and my compatriots are here for, Sir Robert. But I have not had the pleasure of this gentleman’s acquaintance.”
“This is Master Drew, a Constable of the Bankside…”
“Master Drew? And a Constable? I am Constable of Castile. Do you not have to be of the knightly rank to be a Constable in this kingdom?”
“There is a difference in office, Your Grace,” Sir Robert explained hurriedly. “Suffice to say, Master Drew is much in our confidence. Tell me, have you seen all your compatriots this morning?”
The Duke frowned.
“All? Indeed, we breakfasted together to discuss some points to raise at our sessions later today. Why do you ask?”
“Master Drew has something to explain.”
Master Drew cleared his throat and repeated his story and then held out the chain for the Spaniard to inspect.
“The Order of the Golden Fleece,” the Duke whispered softly. “It bears the insignia of His Majesty, Felipe III.” The expression on his face told them he recognized the significance of this discovery. He turned his dark eyes to Sir Robert. “Can someone ask the Count of Villa Medina to join us?”
Sir Robert glanced towards the officer of the guard who had remained by the door, and issued instructions.
When he had gone Master Drew asked: “Does Your Grace think that this belongs to the Count of Villa Medina?’
The Duke of Frias shook his head.
“I know that the Count of Villa Medina is not a member of this noble order. However, he will, I am sure, be able to cast light on the person who held this honour.”
Again, it was not long before the door was opened, to a nervous man whose movements reminded Master Drew of a bird, quick and unpredictable. He possessed the habit of running his hand swiftly over his small pointed beard each time he spoke.