The Frost Fair

    'My problems are nothing compared with those endured by Henry.'

    'I refuse to believe that he's guilty of the crime.'

    'Thank you,' he said, touching her arm in gratitude. 'I, too, am persuaded of his innocence and not merely because he's my brother. I'll do all in my power to secure his release and to vindicate the reputation of the family name.'

    'Even if he did commit a murder - and I'm convinced he did not - it would make no difference to my opinion of you, Christopher. I wanted you to know that.'

    Christopher was moved. 'Such sentiments are the breath of life to me.'

    'Unfortunately, Brilliana does not share them.'

    'Nor, I suspect, does Sir Julius.'

    'Father tried to forbid me to see you,' she confessed. 'He would not leave the house in Westminster until he'd handed me over to my brother-in-law, for fear that I might try to reach you.'

    'Would you have done so?'

    'Most assuredly.'

    'That gladdens my heart.'

    'I'd hoped to inveigle Lancelot into stopping his coach in Fetter Lane but Father was wise to that possibility. He warned my brother- in-law accordingly.'

    'I do not blame Sir Julius,' said Christopher resignedly. 'In his view, he's only trying to protect you. So are your sister and brother-in-law.'

    'I need no protection from any of them.'

    'They see me as a corrupting influence.'

    'Only because they do not know you as well as I do.'

    'Their opinions may change when Henry's innocence is established.'

    'How soon will that be, Christopher?'

    He grimaced slightly. 'I wish that I knew. At the moment, the evidence points to my brother as the culprit. The surest way to exonerate him is to find the real killer.'

    'Have you made any progress in that direction?'

    'Very little,' he admitted. 'Being called out of London was an interruption that I could not afford, though it's had a happy conclusion. This brief meeting with you has made the whole journey worthwhile.'

    'But you need to get back to the city.'

    'As fast as I can, Susan.'

    "Then you must be on your way,' she said, 'and so must I. If I ride hard, I can be back at Serle Court before Brilliana and Lancelot have even risen.'

    'I'd hate the thought that coming to see me would get you into trouble'

    'They'll not even know that I've left the house.'

    'I know,' he said fondly, 'and I'll not forget this kindness.'

    He tin tied her horse then helped her to mount the animal, enjoying the momentary contact with her body. Susan looked down at him with a wan smile.

    'Remember that I'll be thinking of you, Christopher.'

    He grinned. 'You'll be in my thoughts as well, have no fear.' After a frugal breakfast of bread and whey, Jonathan Bale set out early from his house in order to have another meeting with Captain James Harvest. His intention was to get to the man's lodging before he went off on his morning peregrinations. Jonathan felt that there was much more still to be learned from, and about, the genial soldier. Harvest worried him. He had a surface charm that hid his true character and a fondness for drink that did not impress a Puritan constable. There was also something faintly shabby about him and Jonathan was bound to ask how a man who earned a little money by giving impromptu fencing lessons in a tavern courtyard could afford to consort with people like Henry Redmayne and his friends. It was only one of many questions he wished to put to Captain Harvest. In the event, he was baulked.

    'Not here?' he said with disappointment. 'Then where is he?'

    'That's what I'd like to know.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'He's flown the coop, Mr Bale. During the night.'

    'Are you sure?'

    'Why else should he take all his belongings with him?'

    The owner of the house was a short, stubby man in his fifties with a world-weary expression on his whiskered face. Captain Harvest had been his lodger for over six months and given him no indication that he wanted to leave. Jonathan guessed the reason for the sudden departure.

    'Was there any rent outstanding?' he asked.

    'A month in total.'

    'And before that?'

    'Captain Harvest always paid eventually,' said the other. 'I liked him, sir, that's the sad part of it. I made allowances for the captain I'd not make for all my lodgers. He was such pleasant company. Well, if you've met him, you know how engaging a fellow he was. It was worth having him here just to listen to some of his tales.'

    'Tales or excuses?'

    'Yes,' sighed the landlord, 'we had our share of those as well.'

    'Yet he always gave you the rent in the end?'

    'Either him or his friend.'

    'Friend?'

    'An Italian gentlemen, Mr Bale. A handsome fellow with a fine tailor, judging by his apparel. I believe that Captain Harvest worked for him from time to time.' 'Then it must have been Jeronimo Maldini.'

    'That was the name,' confirmed the other. 'Maldini. He called here once or twice and the captain got him to settle his debts. They seemed quite close.'

    'How well did you know Captain Harvest?'

    'Not well enough, it seems.'

    'Did he ever borrow any money from you?'

    'Occasionally.'

    'Has it all been paid back?'

    'No, Mr Bale. I was a fool to trust him, I see that now.'

    'Was he a creature of habit?'

    'Oh, yes. He always left the house early and came back late. If he came back at all, that is, for sometimes he was out all night.'

    'I can well imagine it.'

    'The captain was very popular with ladies.'

    'Did he ever invite any of them here?'

    'No,' said the landlord, glancing over his shoulder. 'It's a decent house, as you see, but he only rented two rooms from me and they were rather small. He'd not wish to entertain female company in there.'

    'Yet he brought friends like Signor Maldini here.'

    'That's true.'

    'Can you remember any others?'

    'Only the gentleman with the coach.'

    'Coach?'

    'He came more than once to drop him off. It's not often you see a coach as fine as that in this street. Captain Harvest had some wealthy friends. No mistake about that.'

    'Can you recall the name of this particular friend?'

    'Oh, yes.'

    'Well?'

    'It was Godden,' said the other. 'Sir Humphrey Godden.'

        After calling at his house to let Jacob know that he was back, Christopher Redmayne rode on to the address that had been left by Martin Crenlowe. It was not far from Foster Lane, where the Goldsmiths' Hall had once stood, and Christopher was interested to see that it was in the process of being restored after the ravages of the Great Fire. The premises occupied by Crenlowe were in a lane nearby and the first thing that Christopher noticed was the solidity of the doors and shutters. Constructed of stout timber, they had iron strap hinges and thick bolts. When he knocked, a grill was opened in the door so that he could be questioned by an apprentice whose face peered through the bars. It was only when he gave his name and stated his business that Christopher was admitted. He was conducted past the workshop at the rear of the building and into the room that served as Crenlowe's office. Attention had been given to security here as well. There were iron bars at the window and the heavy chest that stood in the corner had no less than six large locks along its edge. Christopher was in the presence of gold.