Carey smiled. ‘Of course. Edmund bribed the man to get the dies. He witnessed the transformation, which he found very impressive since he knew nothing at all about the goldsmith’s art. What he saw was a method called parcel-gilding. According to the goldsmith I talked to, it’s a very simple thing to do if you know how to control a furnace and the main problem is to keep the mercury fumes from escaping so you can resublimate it and reuse it. An alchemist’s pelican does the job perfectly.’
‘At the end of it he actually had a pile of parcel-gilt pewter blanks, but he thought they were genuinely gold?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Why in the name of God didn’t he weigh them himself to make sure?’
Carey waved an arm. ‘I don’t know, my lord.’
Hunsdon rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, then they struck coins from the blanks using the Tower dies and of course the coins looked perfect. Edmund believed that the whole operation was nearly official; one of the alchemists had a warrant from Heneage and the idea was that the coins would be used to help pay for the expenses of his intelligencing which the Queen will never give him enough money to run properly. Edmund took a fee for his part in getting the seed gold and finding the coin dies.’
‘And then he tried to spend it and found…’
‘Quite so. They were straightforward forgeries. His tailor weighed them and told him what they were.’
Hunsdon was staring coldly at Heneage. ‘Of course uttering false coin is a hanging offence.’
‘Which the Queen takes very seriously.’
‘Very seriously indeed. She would be enraged,’ said Hunsdon. ‘The most I could have done would have been to beseech the mercy of the axe for Edmund. She might also have been suspicious of me.’
‘Precisely, my lord.’
Hunsdon nodded. ‘Well, it’s clever, you have to give him that,’ he rumbled. ‘It might have worked.’
‘I think Heneage planned that Edmund would be arrested for coining. He would then offer to you the services of his pursuivants to find the alchemists responsible, in exchange for your resignation from the Lord Chamberlainship. Possibly he might even have found somebody to take the blame.’
Hunsdon nodded again. ‘Under such circumstances…Hm.’
‘Only at last, Edmund started to use his brain. When the tailor accused him, he worked out what had been going on, what the whole elaborate coney-catching operation was about. He isn’t stupid, he’s…’
‘He has no common sense. Whatsoever.’
Carey coughed. ‘At that point he panicked. He knew Heneage must be behind the business because of the warrant. All he could think of was to lie low somehow. It seemed to him that he might be safer in gaol than out of it, so he struck a deal with the tailor to be arrested in a false name.’
‘But why the devil didn’t he come to me?’
‘He was afraid of your anger, my lord, and also…He was ashamed. He knew how stupid he’d been.’
‘Urrrh.’
‘Also, in the summer you were on Progress with the Queen and very hard to contact. Gaol might not have been such a bad idea, as a temporary measure, until you came back. Unfortunately, within a week of coming here to the Fleet, he had caught a gaol-fever, his true money had been stolen or, more likely, he had gambled it away, and Newton, who didn’t know who he was, had slung him in Bolton’s Ward. There he might have died had not Mrs Granville here nursed him and supported him.’
In his pacing, Carey had come close to where Julie stood, drawing her forward. He smiled encouragingly at her, but she looked down, not liking him any more.
She curtseyed to Lord Hunsdon.
‘Is this true, mistress?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘You kept my son alive through a gaol-fever in that pesthole he was lying in?’
‘Er…that was God’s Will, my lord, I only nursed him.’
‘Why?’
‘Well…er…’ she knew she was flushing and she hoped Edmund’s father would just think she was shy. ‘He was kind to my children, sir, and very patient when Johnnie accidentally hit him with a stone on the ear, and…er…’ Edmund’s father had a look of amused understanding on his face. ‘We are both married, my lord,’ she added hurriedly. ‘There was nothing improper…’
‘You weren’t working for Mr Heneage?’
That angered her. ‘No, sir, certainly not.’
‘I hardly think so, my lord,’ drawled Carey. ‘Since she saved my skin as well just before you arrived, by bringing down one of Heneage’s men when they attacked. She also kept safe the packet of coin-dies and the warrant which Edmund gave her, which she would undoubtedly have given back to Mr Heneage if she had been working for him, since that was one reason why he was searching for Edmund.’
‘Mistress Granville,’ said Lord Hunsdon, with a little bow from his chair, ‘I apologise for suspecting you. I am deeply in your debt and unlike most of my sons, I pay my debts.’
She didn’t know what to do except curtsey again.
After a pause to glare at his father for the covert jibe, Carey continued. ‘So Edmund had disappeared and with him the Tower coin-dies and the warrant which incriminated Mr Heneage, since he had access to them and Edmund didn’t, Heneage was looking for him, you were looking for him…Incidentally, my lord, why did you employ Robert Greene about the business?’
Hunsdon harumphed. ‘I thought Edmund might have gone on a binge and you set a drunken gambler to find a drunken gambler. Greene has investigated for me in the past; he’s good at it, when he’s sober, or nearly.’
‘I see,’ said Carey in a tone that skirted very close to being an insult. ‘Well, after he had also drawn a blank, you sent for me, very inconveniently, from Carlisle.’
‘How was I to know how many warrants for debt you had waiting for you? None of you idiot boys will ever tell me how bad your position is.’
You could see Carey didn’t like being called a boy by his father, Julie thought, and also this clearly was a sore point. Carey scowled. ‘We fear your wrath, sir.’
‘Oh, do you, by God?’ growled Hunsdon, scowling back. ‘Well, spend less then. Or engage in some halfway sane investments.’
Just for a moment there looked to be the fascinating prospect of father and son leaping into battle against each other. Somebody cleared his throat.
‘Ay,’ droned a doleful northern voice. ‘But how was it yer man Michael got hisself strung up on the Hampstead Hanging Elm?’
Carey looked thoughtfully at Sergeant Dodd. ‘It was a mistake. One of Heneage’s men paid the footpads that infest the Heath to stop him and wasn’t specific enough about how, so they shot him. They didn’t have time to bury him so they strung him up so that if our horses spooked at the smell, we wouldn’t wonder at it.’
He looked back at his father who was shaking his head regretfully. ‘Poor Michael,’ Hunsdon said. ‘His wife’s taken it very hard. Presumably Mr Heneage wanted you, so he could use you to winkle out Edmund.’
‘Precisely, sir. I think you know most of the rest of the story.’
That obviously wasn’t true if Hunsdon’s expression was any guide, but Julie saw him take the hint. He swung round on Heneage.
‘Mr Heneage. Have you anything to say?’
Heneage put away the blood-soaked handkerchief he had been using on his nose. ‘This is not a court of law, my lord,’ he said thinly. ‘But I will say this. Every word of Sir Robert’s ridiculous tale is a lie. I have nothing but respect for you, my lord, and for your family, nor would I ever engage in such preposterous plots against you.’
Carey’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. ‘How dare…?’ he began through his teeth. Hunsdon waved him down.
‘Mr Heneage, do you want my son to call you out?’
‘I would not accept the challenge, my lord, since duelling is against the law and the clearly expressed will of Her Majesty the Queen. I will however consult my lawyers in case there is a suit for slander that can be pursued, in addition to the charges of assault, battery and false imprisonment for which I have a cast iron case.’
‘How do you explain the Tower Mint coin-dies?’