‘Two what?’
The woman laughed. ‘Two girls, sir, of course, what did you think I meant? Choose any two of these lovelies and they’re yours for fifteen shillings the night.’
Thomas looked thoughtful. ‘A most attractive offer, to be sure, and one to take advantage of. Yet I find myself at this moment not entirely ready to make the most of it. Allow me to pay you for the wine, and I will return when circumstances are more, ah, pressing.’
The woman was taken aback. She was unused to gentlemen changing their minds once they were there, and her current offer had proved most popular. ‘Well, sir,’ she replied, ‘you won’t find better girls in Oxford, though I do say it myself. But if you’re not up to the task, I’ll take a shilling for the wine and bid you good evening. We’ve plenty more customers to come.’
Deciding not to protest at the price of a small glass of in different claret, Thomas handed over a shilling and made his escape. His first visit to a brothel had not been a success. Back in Magpie Lane, he mopped his brow, took a deep breath and prepared himself for another try. Good God, what wouldn’t any of those girls have given for the looks of Jane Romilly. Raped and murdered on the orders of Rush, and with the help of Fayne. Find him, Thomas, and find him fast.
Six more brothels and six more glasses of wine later, Thomas had no more idea of where Fayne might be than he had had that morning. The closest he had come was a girl at the fourth house, who claimed to have entertained a gentleman matching Fayne’s description some weeks before. She had not seen him since. There had been no other hint of the man.
Having knocked on doors all morning, played the part of an erring husband with the soldiers in the Crown and visited seven brothels, Thomas was tired and miserable. Head and legs aching, mind numb, no further forward. It was time to return to Christ Church.
By that time, Magpie Lane was alive with the whores who preferred to work in the dark. A drunken soldier might be more inclined to part with his money if he could not see a face pitted by pox or ravaged by leprosy. Thomas had taken no more than a few steps when the first one accosted him. ‘What’s your ’urry, sir?’ she growled, taking out a fat breast to show him, ‘I got another one just as good.’ Thomas hastened on without looking. Then two more jumped out of the shadows. ‘You look a strong sort,’ hissed one. ‘Fancy a pair o’ lovely ladies? Only a shilling, and you’ll go ’ome an ’appy man.’ The other grabbed his sleeve and tried to pull him against the wall. Thomas jerked himself free and ran for it. Things must be bad if even the whores were offering special rates.
He kept running until he reached Christ Church. Half fearing that an order to present himself to the king might await him, he was relieved to find no guards outside his room, no orders and no visitors.
When Simon knocked on his door the next morning, Thomas struggled off his bed and groped his way to the door, cursing the oaf who called upon a gentleman at such an ungodly hour. ‘Good morning, Simon,’ croaked Thomas, ‘why so early?’
‘You look unwell, Thomas,’ replied the friar, inspecting him. ‘Do you need help?’
‘What I need is sleep. Failing that, breakfast. Have you brought any?’
‘Alas, no.’
‘Then go and find some while I dress,’ ordered Thomas, closing the door.
Simon was back within ten minutes, bearing bread and cheese, and a jug of ale. ‘There you are, Thomas,’ he said cheer fully, ‘eat that while we talk.’ Thomas took the tray and sat at his table. ‘I came to tell you that the queen has had no word from the king, despite making it clear that she is anxious to leave Oxford. She is determined to have the child in France, and is understandably nervous about crossing the Channel late in the year. Her last crossing was unpleasant.’
‘So you’ve told me.’
‘His majesty is reluctant to let her go while Rush is free, although how he thinks Rush will be caught now, I do not know. The man could be anywhere.’
Thomas swallowed the last piece of bread, and took a gulp of ale. ‘I spent yesterday looking for Fayne. He’s disappeared. There’s no sign of him.’
Simon looked grave. ‘Thomas, you have performed a great service for the king. Abraham and Jane are dead. You will soon be going home. Rush and Fayne will pay for their sins in this life or the next. Should we not leave it at that?’
‘No, Simon, we should not. Fayne was involved in Jane’s rape and murder, and I want to see him hanged for it. What’s more, he’s a coward. He avoided Newbury by pretending to be delayed on the way there. I’m sure of it. And he’s left gambling debts all over Oxford.’
‘So he’s a gambler. What does he play?’
‘Hazard. For high stakes and not very well.’
Simon laughed. ‘There are many like him. The queen’s guards spend their days at cards and dice, winning and losing small fortunes. The prospect of imminent death on the battlefield can make a man reckless. Not that Fayne’s corpse will ever be found on a battlefield, by the sound of it.’
‘A gibbet would suit him better. I’d put him on one myself if I could.’
‘Thomas, that’s not like you. I thought you abhorred violence.’
‘I abhor injustice more. A murderer should be hanged.’
‘Are you sure of his guilt?’
‘I am. It rings true. Find a man who might lure her to her death, exploit his weakness and bribe or threaten him to do it. It reeks of Rush.’
‘It does. One might almost feel sympathy for Fayne.’
‘For the love of God, Simon, not an ounce of sympathy for Fayne, please. Remember what he has done.’
‘We are taught to distinguish between the sinner and the sin.’
‘That isn’t what you said about Rush.’
‘In his case, I make an exception. Anyone who can do what he did to Abraham, and would have done to you if he’d had the chance, is evil itself. Also, I have never met Fayne. That makes it harder to condemn him.’
‘De Pointz’s pragmatism again, Simon?’ Simon smiled broadly, showing his gravestone teeth. ‘Well, pragmatically, if we find Fayne, he might tell us where Rush is. We must find them.’
‘Have you considered, Thomas, that it was not many days ago that your only wish was to go home? Now you wish to stay. Strange, is it not?’
‘It is. My old friend Montaigne said that there is no conver sation more boring than the one in which everyone agrees. He might as well have said there is no man more boring than the one who never changes his mind.’
For some minutes they sat in silence, neither knowing in which direction to take the discussion. Then there was a knock on the door. Expecting a messenger from the king, Thomas opened it. It was Silas. ‘Silas, come in. Father de Pointz is here. What brings you to Christ Church?’
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ said Silas with a hint of a bow. ‘I’ve come to tell you that two men have been asking for Master Hill. They didn’t say why, but I thought you should know.’
‘Who are they, Silas?’ asked Thomas.
‘Gave their names as Philip Smithson and Hugh Tomkins, both captains.’
Smithson and Tomkins. Thomas recognized the names at once. Fayne’s dice-playing companions. ‘Did they give no clue as to why they’re looking for me?’
‘None, sir.’
‘And what did you tell them?’
‘Only that I would try to get a message to you. I didn’t tell them where you are.’
‘Good. Come and sit down, Silas. This needs thought.’
Silas found a chair, and sat nervously on the edge of it. Lording it over young Pembroke scholars was one thing, calling on Master Hill and Father de Pointz in Christ Church, now the home of the king, quite another.
‘What do you make of it, Simon?’ said Thomas. ‘Friends or foes?’
‘I couldn’t say. Who are they?’
Thomas told them about the dice game and how he knew them. ‘In that case, I would treat them with caution. Your enemy’s friend is also your enemy, or something like that,’ said Simon.
‘Something like that. Yet I’m not so sure. I had the impression that Fayne’s company was forced upon them.’