‘And what help can you possibly need from me?’ I sneered.
‘I need to get away. To escape. I need a ship to carry me to France as soon as possible.’
I frowned, sensing a trap. ‘Isn’t that what you’re doing? What Mistress Alefounder is doing for you? Trying to arrange your passage to Brittany?’
The duke sat down again on the bed, emitting a little moan and burying his etiolated face in his long, thin hands.
‘I don’t want to go to Brittany,’ he said in defiant, but muffled tones. Then he raised his head, a desperate expression in the sapphire-blue eyes, and proceeded to explain.
‘When Sir Thomas St John — he’s a disaffected Lancastrian supporter of Henry Tudor — came to me at Stirling and made his proposal, I have to admit that I was excited by it. I promised I’d consider the scheme. However, before I’d had time to think about it carefully, word reached me that my younger brother, Mar, was dead, probably murdered, and I was advised to get out of Scotland before I suffered a similar fate. Sir Thomas’s offer at once took on the appearance of divine intervention. It also meant I would have protection on my journey and that my passage abroad would be arranged without any extraordinary exertion on my part. So, Sir Thomas escorted me south to this house near Bristol, where we slept the night. The next day he left me in the care of Mistress Alefounder, who would see me safely aboard the Irish ship which was to carry me to Brest, and there I should be met and cared for by others of the conspirators.’ He shrugged. ‘But it all went awry, as you know only too well. Instead of being transported to Brittany, I’ve been mewed up here for over three weeks.’
‘And you’ve had time to think,’ I suggested.
The duke laughed grimly and said something in broad Scots which I didn’t understand, then reverted to English.
‘I’ve done little else but think in between Mistress Alefounder or that pretty friend of hers bringing me my meals. I shall go mad if I have to stay walled up here much longer. And after Master Avenel’s murder, his sister’s been as jumpy as a cat on cinders — and with good reason, I suspect. Especially now you tell me that there is not only an agent of Henry Tudor living in the town, but also one of King Edward’s spies.’
‘Not “one of”,’ I corrected him. ‘The best.’
Albany cursed fluently, again in broad Scots. It sounded splendid. I wished I knew what he was saying.
He continued. ‘As I said, I’ve had time to think these past weeks and it’s brought me to my senses. I realized I’ve been deluding myself that I could ever usurp Henry Tudor’s place as the Lancastrian pretender to the English crown. Within days, hours even, of landing in Brittany, I’d be as dead as yesterday’s meat. But more than that, the whole mad scheme has as much substance as a puff of air. Henry Tudor is never going to be King of England. I’m never going to be King of England. King Edward’s hale and hearty according to all the reports I’ve ever had of him, and he’s the father of two male heirs.’ Albany gave a smile of great cunning. ‘Besides, I’d much rather be king of Scotland, and if I play my cards aright — well, who knows? Stranger things have happened. So you see — ’ he paused and spread out his hands — ‘what I need is an accomplice who might be able to help me escape to France.’
I considered him for a moment or two, still holding him at bay with my knife. Was he genuine, or was this a ploy to put me off my guard? I had to make up my mind.
‘And in return for my assistance, you agree to tell me what you know of Robin Avenel’s death?’ I asked.
‘Everything. Although in fairness I should warn you, it isn’t as much as you would wish.’
I hesitated before slowly lowering the point of my knife.
‘I’ll have to take that chance,’ I said.
Twenty
I sat down beside him on the bed, but at a distance. I still wasn’t wholly convinced that I could trust him. He was a dark, swarthy creature of about my own age, but there was a shifty look in his eyes that somehow called his probity into question. It was an expression I had seen in the past in the eyes of George, Duke of Clarence, another dissatisfied younger brother.
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Tell me what you can.’
Before replying, however, he got up and walked over to the open section of wall, which, with an effort, he pushed shut. Catching sight of my face, he laughed.
‘You’re quite safe. It can be opened from this side, too.’ He resumed his seat on the bed, slewing a little to his right, so that we were almost face to face. ‘It’s a marvellous piece of machinery, don’t you agree? The Jews are a very clever people. Which is why we are so afraid of them, I suppose. Now, before I tell you anything, you tell me how you will get me across the Narrow Sea to France. I need to be gone as soon as possible. Tomorrow. Tonight if it can be arranged.’
‘What will you say to Mistress Alefounder?’ I enquired.
He shrugged. ‘Nothing, unless it’s necessary. She won’t come again until the morning. She’s already brought me my evening meal.’ He grimaced, intimating that he had not enjoyed it. ‘Since yesterday and her brother’s death, she has had much to occupy her mind, as you might expect. So, Roger — am I right? Is that your name? — what makes you think you can find me a ship’s captain willing to carry me to France, when Robin Avenel and his sister have so far been unsuccessful?’
‘There’s an Irish slave trader with whom I’ve had some dealings in the past. At present, his ship is moored along the Bristol Backs. He’s an honest rogue who knew of Eamonn Malahide, but had nothing but contempt for his double-dealing. He’ll take you, I feel certain, provided you can pay him what he asks.’
‘Ah!’ The duke gave me a quizzical glance. ‘Money! I’d forgotten about money. I’m afraid I don’t have any. Do you?’
Typical! These noblemen are all the same. They never pay for anything if they can help it; they’re too busy leeching off everyone else.
‘No, I don’t,’ I answered shortly. ‘Not that sort of money, at any rate. I’m a pedlar. Don’t you have any rings or a jewelled collar or something of that sort that I could offer Briant?’
Albany sighed and shook his head. ‘Not here. I left Scotland in such a hurry, I had to leave most of my belongings behind. I did have one ring, my signet ring, but I lost it — the Virgin only knows where.’
I caught my breath. ‘A heavily chased gold band and a roundel engraved with two letter As, is that the one?’
He stared at me, nodding. ‘Two As and the Lion of Scotland.’ He shook my wrist. ‘What do you know about it? Do you know where it is?’
‘I found it lodged in the mattress of the bed at Rownham Passage when I went back there to have a look around. I think you must have slept in that bed and got your hand caught between the ticking and the feathers. The ring worked loose.’
The Scotsman clapped his hands. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Mistress Alefounder was right on yet another count. You are a nosy fellow, Roger! God bless you for it.’ A sudden thought struck him. ‘You still have it?’ he demanded anxiously. It was my turn to nod. ‘Then we can offer it to this Irishman of yours. Tell him that when I get safely to France and my good cousin, King Louis, grants me a pension, I’ll buy it back from him at three times its price. He’ll be well recompensed for all his trouble.’
It might work. I reckoned the signet ring was of sufficient weight and value to satisfy Briant. And he was shrewd enough to see that it could have an importance in Albany’s eyes beyond its simple monetary worth.
‘Very well,’ I conceded. ‘But I’ll have to go home and fetch it.’
‘And take it to this Irishman now, this evening, without delay. If he agrees to the transaction, I’ll be aboard his ship tonight. I can return to Ireland with him, if necessary, and wait there until he’s able to carry me to France.’