“Master Crispin! My Lord Derby! What … what is going on?”
Crispin helped Henry to the chair and stood above him. Jack shrugged quickly into his cotehardie and hissed at Crispin’s elbow, “I thought you were going to bed!”
“Change of plans,” he whispered back. “Bring us wine, Jack.”
Buttoning his coat, Jack hurried to comply. Henry was looking at Avelyn admiringly. “Who is this, Crispin?”
Crispin felt his cheeks suddenly warming. “Erm … she’s … she’s…”
“Another servant, my lord,” Jack said quickly, placing a full wine bowl before Henry and offering the second to Crispin.
Henry eyed the fading red on Crispin’s cheeks and gave him a leering smile. He took up the bowl and, thirstily, drank it down. He set aside the now empty bowl and wiped his mouth with his hand. Crispin sipped his, studying Henry over the bowl’s rim.
“And so,” Crispin said after a moment, “may I ask what you were doing there?”
His eyes settled on Crispin’s. The playfulness was gone and so was the teasing smile. “I was playing the fool, apparently. Stupid.” He touched the lump on his forehead again and winced.
Jack was instantly at his side. “Can I get you a cold cloth for that, my lord?”
“No, boy. But much thanks for the thought.”
“Jack, my Lord of Derby, here, was about to tell me why he was skulking around the alchemists’ guildhall.”
Jack gasped at the same time Henry perked up. “Alchemists’ guildhall, eh? Strange.”
“Perhaps not. Tell me.”
He wheezed out a long sigh and drummed his fingers on the table. “I … I received a missive. Anonymous. It told me to be there.”
Crispin gritted his teeth, biting down on what he wanted to say. “And are you in the habit of following blindly what anonymous missives tell you to do?”
“You sounded just like my father in that instance.”
“Henry! This is no laughing matter.”
“Who’s laughing?”
“Answer the question!”
“I have a hell of a headache now. Don’t yell at me. People are always yelling at me. My uncle, my advisers, my father…”
“Perhaps it is time to listen to them.”
Henry slammed his hand to the table. “You’re not my father!”
“Neither are you!”
They glared at each other for a long moment before Henry relented first, dropping his head on his hand. “I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m trying.”
Crispin scraped his knuckles uncomfortably along the table’s rough surface before he sat on the stool opposite the young lord. “You are under much duress, I know. But there are factions after you. I would have thought you would lie low. What made you follow this missive’s instructions? It was clearly an ambush.”
“Because I had gotten two like it before.”
At this rate, his teeth would be ground to stubs. “Explain,” he said tightly.
“One I received when I arrived in London a few months ago. It was innocuous enough. Told me where I could find some information I needed, and I did find it. When I got the second, I recognized the hand. It told me to go to St. Paul’s. And that’s when I encountered you.”
“At the foot of the statue? It told you to go there specifically?”
“Yes. And that I would reap a reward. More information, that is. Was there really a ransom there?”
“Yes.”
“Good God. For whom?”
“A woman, who is still missing. And I, too, was similarly led to that guildhall.”
“Someone is playing both of us for a fool.”
“No. It is more insidious than that. This time, it was to trap you in an ambush. I shudder to think what might have happened had I not decided to return tonight.”
“Wait. You mean you had already been summoned there earlier?”
“Yes. Our missive writer could not have known I would return and discover you.”
“Interesting. Were you attacked, too?”
Crispin sipped at his wine. “No. It was under … other circumstances that I arrived there.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” said Henry, eyes narrowing.
“But you do have to tell me. What was so important that you would risk your safety to investigate in such a foolhardy way?”
Henry puffed up and frowned. Crispin swore that he would smack Henry himself if the man spouted some half-arsed quip or tried to lord it over him.
But Henry deflated quickly, looking contrite. “Crispin, you know why I am in London, do you not? The missive told me of further corruption in King Richard’s court. Fuel that I need to press our advantage over my cousin.”
Anger bubbled up in Crispin’s breast. “And so you thought you’d just go alone into uncertain danger. Did you even know the nature of this evidence?”
“No, but I had to investigate it. Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see! Henry, you have vast responsibilities. You can’t just go yourself into these situations. You must use your head. You should have sent a servant at the very least-”
“You would have gone.”
“That’s different.”
“How? How is it different? Because I am not a man like you?”
“Because you are more important than I am, you fool!” He shook his head. “Henry, Henry. I am not a lord any longer. I am not one of the king’s barons. I am … nothing.”
“Not to me.”
It stopped Crispin’s tirade cold. He lowered his face. He didn’t know what to say to that and so chose to ignore it. “Nevertheless, you mustn’t indulge your fancies, my lord. You must not. Your work is important. If you wish to rein in Richard, then you had best keep hold of those reins yourself. Let others put themselves in danger. Stand back and observe. It’s … it’s what your father would have done.”
Irritation smoldered in Henry’s eyes and his lips pressed tight, but he said nothing. Instead, he threw himself to the back of the chair, arms folded petulantly over his chest, and brooded.
“You were lucky to escape with only a bump on the head,” Crispin went on. “It could have gone much worse. Anything could have been behind those messages. This, the missing woman, the poisonings of the cisterns. Anything.”
“Hold. Poisoning of what cisterns?”
Crispin proceeded to tell him of the deaths and what he’d discovered, and how the sheriffs had reluctantly agreed to guard them.
Henry leaned forward. “Was that why there were riots at the Tun today?”
“It was to save lives.”
“Are you certain of that? That it was poisoned?”
“Yes. And further, I think it has to do with the missing wife of the alchemist.”
“Alchemist, eh? More than just a coincidence I was sent to that particular guildhall?”
“It’s not a coincidence at all. It is all tied together somehow.”
“But why me? What have I to do with an alchemist?”
Crispin toyed with his bowl. “There is a lay preacher who does not like what you and your lords are doing. He says as much in his sermons. While you are seeking to discredit the king, might someone else be plotting to discredit you?”
“An alchemist? A preacher? An unlikely conspiracy.”
“I’m not convinced it’s so unlikely. It’s taken some planning to get to this point. It would take money and influence.”
“Influence. Crispin, you don’t mean to say that you think someone at court had aught to do with these unrelated events?”
“I’m beginning to think so.”
“Who is feeding you this tripe? It can’t be true.”
“I have seen the like before, believe me. And either killing you or discrediting you, the result would be the same. You would be out of the way and your assembly of lords would be in disarray.”
“Richard?” he whispered. “You don’t think-”
“I don’t know what to think!” cried Crispin, running his fingers through his hair.
Henry was on his feet. “They tried to kill me! I don’t take kindly to that.”
Crispin straightened. “No. Neither would I.” He stared at the table, at the whorls of wood grain, the patterns of spilled wine, and the dribble of pooled wax dripping from the candle dish. “Who at court would have a particular crusade against you?”