“M’lady, what the…”
“She’s just seen her father’s head on a spike at London Bridge,” said Lady Hunsdon drily into his ear. “I think that’s a reason to be upset, don’t you?”
Dodd craned his neck to see. The only recognisable head was the priest’s, that he and Carey had seen hacked off the day before. His mouth went dry.
“But m’lady…?”
“Be quiet.”
“But…but Ah thought Papist priests couldnae wed…?”
“Precisely. We’ll discuss this in private.”
***
A war council of the Hunsdon family convened at dinnertime, with Sir Robert, Lord and Lady Hunsdon, and Sergeant Dodd staring at each other over some marvellous venison and more of the mutton pasties. When the second cover was served and Dodd could wonder at the jellies and custards that were laid out for no more than a normal meal, the servingmen were sent out of the room. Letty had been put to bed with a strong posset and a girl to watch her, while Dr. Nunez and his barber surgeon had been sent for to bleed her against the shock.
“You are quite certain it is Richard Tregian, my lady?” rumbled Lord Hunsdon, staring at his clasped hands.
“I am, my lord,” said his lady soberly. “He had a scar by his mouth from a hunting accident a few years ago and his beard was still red. I knew him at once even on a …at that distance.”
“No priest then,” said Hunsdon.
Lady Hunsdon snorted. “Hardly. He was a Papist though.”
“He was the man you were in London to meet?”
“Yes, my lord. I wanted to find out more before I broke the matter with you, but events are now ahead of me. I discovered from my sister’s husband that there have been some very dubious land-deals happening in Cornwall and Richard Tregian was up to his neck in them. He was in desperate need of money to pay his recusancy fines, to be sure, but there was more to it than that. There was Court money involved. The land around the Fal has tripled in price in the last three years, but additonally there have been some very surprising purchases further north in the tin-mining areas near Redruth. I would have gone to Sir Walter Raleigh as President of the Stannary when I had consulted you, my lord, but Sir Walter is in the Tower for venery, I find. I wanted to warn Richard away from whatever deals he was doing and I brought Letty up to town with me in the Judith to talk some sense into him.”
“Was there any question of treason involved, my lady?”
Lady Hunsdon bowed her head. “Letty says not, but I simply don’t know.”
Lord Hunsdon sighed heavily. “Sir Robert?” he said formally to his son.
Carey looked at Dodd briefly, then at his mother, before he answered his father quietly. “We watched Richard Tregian die yesterday under the name of Fr. Jackson. He was gagged and had been tortured. The hangman gave him a good drop so he was quite dead by the time they came to draw and quarter him.”
Lady Hunsdon nodded. “Thank God for that at least.”
“How do you know he was tortured?” asked Lord Hunsdon.
“His wrists were swollen and showed the print of bindings with swelling above and below. I would say the rack or the manacles.” Carey’s voice was remote.
There was a long moment of silence. “What statute was he sentenced under?” asked Lord Hunsdon.
“Henry VIII’s Praemunire.”
“Nothing more?”
“Now that I think about it, the announcement was very short.”
“He made no sign?”
“He was in no state to do it before he was hanged and moreover he was gagged.” More silence. “I wonder whose authority was on the warrant?” Sir Robert added softly.
“It will have been genuine and the authority unexceptionable or Her Majesty would not have signed it.”
“Heneage?”
Hunsdon shook his head. “Not necessarily. Sir Robert Cecil or Lord Burghley himself could have been involved, or even my lord the Earl of Essex. Someone of lesser rank could also have originated the warrant, such as the Recorder of London or the Constable of the Tower. Of course, I could do so if I needed to.”
“Was yer man not tried?”
After a pause Lord Hunsdon said reluctantly, “Obviously not, Sergeant.”
“So what was Richard Tregian actually doing?” asked Sir Robert, leaning his elbows on the table. Nobody had touched any of the elaborate sweet dishes, but Dodd, who had a less delicate stomach, reached for a pippin and started munching it. He liked apples and you didn’t get many of them on the Borders because raiders kept cutting or burning orchards down. “Buying land from cash-strapped fellow-Papists and then selling them on to a courtier or two? Or informing on Papists and getting a cut from the lands when they were confiscated?”
Lady Hunsdon shook her head. “I don’t see Richard informing-and even if he did, he wouldn’t last very long in Cornwall. They don’t like blabbermouths there. I would say it was the first. He may even have been an agent, using his principal’s money and then taking a cut.”
“Well there’s nothing treasonous about that,” boomed Lord Hunsdon. “Perfectly legitimate thing to do, I use agents myself. Keeps the prices down a bit.”
“My lord, I dinna understand,” Dodd put in. Lord Hunsdon looked enquiringly at him. “Only, this land was to be sold? To somebody wi’ plenty o’ money at court?”
“Probably. That’s where the money tends to be.”
“Ay, so why would they buy it? Cornwall’s a powerful long way and…”
“It might be the tin. It’s quite a fashion at Court now to start mining works and similar on your land if there’s anything there to be mined.”
“Is tin worth so much?”
“Not really,” put in Lady Hunsdon, “There’s more of it in Spain and easier to get at.”
Something Dodd had heard in a long drinking session with a miner from Keswick tickled his memory. “There’s tin, so is there gold as well?” The Hunsdons were watching him thoughtfully. “Only that would make sense of poor land being worth buying on the quiet until ye could take the gold out.”
“If there is it would belong to the Crown anyway,” said Hunsdon. “You’d need a license.”
“All the more reason for keeping it quiet until ye could take out the gold for yersen.”
“Hmm.”
“Well the obvious candidate for his principal is Heneage,” pointed out Sir Robert, “and that would explain his ending up on a scaffold if Heneage didn’t want to pay him.”
“I doubt it,” said Hunsdon. “Heneage could simply have delayed payment until Richard Tregian got tired of asking or went to jail. There would be no need to kill the man.”
“And why did he do it like that,” Dodd asked, which was the main question on his mind. “Why be so complicated? Even in London it canna be hard for a man wi’ Heneage’s power to slit his throat and drop him in the Thames and nae questions asked?”
Nobody said anything.
The steward knocked on the door, came in, and whispered in Lord Hunsdon’s ear.
“Oh. Ah. Yes, of course. We will see him in the large parlour. I believe your lawyer has arrived, Sergeant.”
“Ay.”
“In the meantime,” Hunsdon summed up with weary distaste, “we shall keep this matter as quiet as possible until we can discover what really happened. The final decision on any action to be taken will, of course, be mine although I may be forced to take the matter to my sister.” There was a warning tone in his voice and yes, he was glaring directly at his wife.
“Of course my lord,” she said, “Naturally.”
Carey closed his eyes briefly and seemed to be praying while Dodd fought down the urge to snicker. After all, it was hardly a laughing matter. Still the blandly respectful look on Lady Hunsdon’s face as she lowered her eyes to her meekly clasped hands was very, very funny to Dodd. Lord Baron Hunsdon seemed quite satisfied and nodded approvingly. “I knew you would understand, my love.”