Heneage shrugged. ‘I can’t, my lord. Nor do I intend to try. Doubtless you or Sir Robert best know what happened. Neither they nor the warrant amount to evidence because a warrant can be forged and the coin-dies might have been come by in a number of ways.’
There was a frustrated silence before Sergeant Dodd spoke up again.
‘Ay, well, sir,’ he said, his voice compressed. ‘I dinna ken what all yon fine courtiers and cousins to the Queen can do agin ye, Mr Heneage, but I think I have as good a case agin ye for assault, battery and false imprisonment and better. And I’m sure my lord Hunsdon will see me right wi’ a good lawyer to take the case.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Hunsdon.
‘Possibly I made an unfortunate mistake with you, Dodd…’
‘Och, did ye now?’ said Dodd, sitting forward with a wince. ‘Did ye, by Christ? I was slung in gaol in mistake for Sir Robert and ye came along and took me oot on nae warrant whatever, pit me in yer foul contraption of a carriage, and had yer men beat the hell out of me on the suspicion I knew where Sir Robert’s brother was. Ye threatened me wi’ torture. Ye beat the hell out of me yersen, sir, d’ye recall, personally, wi’ a cosh? It’s no’ gentlemanlike to get yer hands dirty, but ye did and since ma kith and kin are hundreds o’ miles away and I canna raid ye and burn yer house down about yer ears, I’ll go the southern way to ma satisfaction, and I’ll see you in court, sir.’
‘I might be…er…willing to pay compensation to you, Dodd, for a very unfortunate…’
Outrage burned in Dodd’s face, propelled him out of his chair.
‘By God Almighty!’ he bellowed, fists on the table. ‘I am the Land Sergeant of Gilsland and I have had enough of yer disrespect, Mr Heneage. Ye can call me Sergeant if ye wish tae address me.’
Heneage looked taken aback. ‘Er…Sergeant.’
‘Incidentally, I think the offer of compensation is rather close to an admission here,’ said Carey drily. ‘Which was witnessed. Do you still want to take me to court, Mr Heneage?’
Heneage’s mouth was pinched. ‘Possibly we could come to some arrangement.’
Dodd sat down again in the chair quite suddenly. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered and rubbed at his lower back.
Hunsdon leaned forward and put his forearms on the table. ‘We are going to come to this arrangement. You will drop any and all lawsuits against my sons, rescind any warrants you have sworn out regarding them, and in all ways hold them harmless for the events of these past few weeks. In return we will drop any and all lawsuits against you and I will use my best endeavours to persuade Sergeant Dodd of Gilsland to be merciful to you in the matter of his own lawsuit, which is of course a separate issue.’
Heneage sneered. ‘I wish to consult my lawyers…’
‘Why?’ snapped Hunsdon. ‘Be your own lawyer in this case.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘Mr Heneage, you know me. I prefer a quiet life now I’m old. But if I’m stirred to it, I like a fight as well as any man. I think I have the resources and the friends to tie you up with parchment and paper from one end of Westminster Hall to the other.’
‘And the Queen?’
‘I will not lie to my sovereign. But she’ll hear none of this affair unless she asks me about it, so you had better hope she doesn’t ask.’
‘So had you,’ said Heneage venomously. ‘She hates coiners.’
Hunsdon tilted his head noncommittally.
Heneage gestured at the warrant and the Tower Mint dies, holding his hand out for them. Hunsdon’s eyes half-hooded themselves and he passed them to Sir Robert.
‘I want the coin-dies,’ said Heneage. ‘And the warrant.’
‘You admit they were originally yours?’ asked Carey.
‘No, Sir Robert. I want to suppress false evidence.’
‘If they’re false, then they can do you no harm,’ growled Hunsdon. ‘If they’re true, then you should certainly not have them since the coin-dies may tempt you to trespass again. I’ll keep them safe for you.’
Heneage departed in his carriage, his men jogging along beside it, heading west for his house in Chelsea. Hunsdon’s men mounted up in a flurry of circling horses while Hunsdon conferred with the lawyers he had summoned as back-up to the brute force of his henchmen. They conferred at length with Gaoler Newton who proved obstinate now he had the real Sir Robert Carey physically in his power. Eventually, he agreed to release both Carey and Mrs Julie Granville and her children on bonds of a thousand pounds each. Lord Hunsdon uncomplainingly wrote out bankers’ drafts for both sums which Gaoler Newton sent straight round to the Exchange to be checked, before putting them in his strongbox.
Mulishly, Sergeant Dodd rejected the expensively hired litter and climbed slowly aboard a quiet-paced mare, where he sat grimly staring ahead of him. Julie refused Sir Robert’s courteous offer that she should ride pillion behind him, but accepted the same offer from Lord Hunsdon. Her children came tumbling and squeaking with excitement out of the gate and John her eldest instantly agreed to go up in front of Sir Robert.
The cavalcade trotted sedately down Fleet Lane, over the little bridge and down Fleet Street, threading out to single file at Temple Bar and then going straight in at the main gate of Somerset House. Until that moment, when Lord Hunsdon handed her down with immense ceremony to his waiting steward, Julie had not been able to let herself believe this was anything other than a dream. She looked around at the courtyard with its fine diamond windows shining with sunset, at the strapwork in the brick and the wonderfully elaborate chimneys and she found herself clasping her children as they jumped down or were lifted from the horses and laughing at the madness of it all.
Sunday, 3rd September 1592, late evening
Hunsdon’s stately Portuguese physician had prescribed bed rest and cold cloths to be applied to Dodd’s belly and lower back. The surgeon had been ordered to let eight ounces of blood from Dodd’s left arm to prevent infection. The doctor had also prescribed the drinking of tobacco smoke to ease his kidneys, which were very painful. Dodd had pissed some blood when the doctor asked to see his water, which had terrified the life out of him, until Dr Nunez explained that as it was dark and not bright, that meant it was corrupt blood being expelled rather than healthy blood, which was a good sign, generally speaking. He had left, leaving a long list of dietary orders, such as forbidding beer and recommending watered wine, and settled an astonishing bill with the steward which included a very large fee for going on to visit Barnabus’s relatives in the City.
Carey was lounging on a chair sharing the long clay pipe with Dodd. He had changed out of Dodd’s homespun clothes into an old doublet and hose he used for fowling, and which he had been pleased to find was now a bit loose in the waist and tight on the shoulders.
He blew smoke expertly out of his nose and frowned. ‘Smells a bit funny, not like the usual tobacco.’
‘Ay,’ said Dodd, taking the pipe and sucking smoke cautiously into his lungs. If he did it too fast it made him cough which hurt. ‘The doctor mixed some Moroccan herbs and incense with it, said it added the element of earth to the smoke, or some such.’
‘Is it helping?’
‘Ay,’ Dodd admitted reluctantly. ‘It is. Ay.’
‘Hm. I think my shoulder’s feeling better too.’ They both watched blue smoke curl up in ribbons through the last rays of the sun, an elegant and calming sight. Dodd leaned back on a pile of pillows and sighed. Being bled had left him feeling as weak as a kitten, never mind the aftermath of Heneage’s persuasions, and the pipesmoke was making his head feel quite light, as if he was mildly drunk.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Did yer dad hear any more about yer man Michael?’
Carey gave an eloquent lift of his shoulder. ‘Apparently somebody turned up yesterday to claim his money and blame it all on the footpads we killed. It might well have been them, after all.’