This time, the Duke of Frias explained in rapid Spanish and then turned to Master Drew and asked him to hold forth the golden chain.
The Count’s face paled as he examined it.
“I can identify the owner of this,” he said slowly. He spoke a fair English but without the fluency of the Duke.
“And the owner is…?” queried Master Drew.
“My secretary, the Chevalier Stefano Jardiniero y Barbastro.”
Master Drew frowned.
“Stefano Jardiniero?” he echoed.
The Count made a motion with his hand, stroking his beard rapidly.
“He is of an English family who fled to Spain on the death of Mary, former Queen Consort of Spain.”
Sir Robert sniffed in embarrassment as he explained.
“Stefano Jardiniero was a nephew of Bishop Stephen Gardiner. That is why the name is familiar. I recall the family.”
Master Drew tried to hide his surprise.
“Bishop Gardiner of Winchester?”
“The family was granted asylum by the late King Felipe who gave them an estate in Barbastro,” added the Count of Villa Medina. “The Chevalier proved his nobility and loyalty in the King’s service and so was ennobled by the court and made a member of this order.”
Sir Robert glanced keenly at Master Drew.
“I am aware that Bishop Gardiner sent several worthy men to the flames as martyrs for the Protestant cause. Therefore there may be some who would see the death of one of his family as just retribution. But before we reach such a conclusion, let us seek out the facts. I presume the Chevalier is currently unaccounted for?”
The Count looked embarrassed and nodded.
“I sent for him this morning to discuss notes appertaining to the treaty but was told he was not in his chambers and that his bed had not been slept in. He has not been seen since last evening.”
“And why has an alarm not been raised?”
The Count of Villa Medina shrugged.
“The Chevalier is still a young man and there are many distractions in this city to preoccupy him.”
Master Drew looked sharply at him. The manner of his speech was careful to the point where it seemed obvious that he was withholding something.
“If I am to expedite this matter, I need to know all the facts.”
The Count was hesitant but the Duke of Frias spoke to him sharply in Spanish.
“It is true,” the Count said, as if answering the Duke but in English. He turned to Master Drew. “Very well, the facts it shall be. The Chevalier said he had to go out last evening, as he wanted to collect an old… how do you call it? Una reliquia de familia.”
The Duke translated for him.
“A family heirloom. He spoke to the Count of this within my hearing. He mentioned no further details.”
Master Drew sighed deeply.
“I would be grateful if the Count would accompany me across to Bankside in order that he may formally identify the body. After all, it may not be the Chevalier’s. But if it is, let us confirm it. Perhaps, Sir Robert, you might provide a coach to take us south of the river? I cannot ask the Count to walk with me.”
“Even better,” replied the Lord Chancellor, “there is a boat by the quayside at my constant disposal that will make your journey shorter.” He turned to the officer of the guard. “Captain, take you two good stalwarts of your guard and accompany Master Drew and the Count. You are the constable’s to command and his commands may be given in my name. Is that clear?”
The officer saluted and turned to fulfil his task.
A moment later the Count and guards were seated with Master Drew in the boat, whose four oars were manned by men in the livery of the Lord Chancellor. It pushed off from the north bank, making its way swiftly over the dark waters of the Thames, south towards the less than salubrious quays and wooden piers that lined the Bankside.
An elderly man limped forward to help tie up the boat in the hope of receiving a coin for his trouble. Master Drew recognized him as one of those unfortunates who regularly frequented the quays to scavenge or pick up the odd job here and there. A thought suddenly came to him.
“Were you about the quays last evening?” he demanded sharply.
The man touched his cap awkwardly.
“That I was, Master Constable. I do be here most times unless the ague confine me to the pot room at the Bell, wherein I do be given a place by the fire by the good office of the innkeeper.”
“Did you notice a boat similar to this one?” He jerked his head towards the boat they had arrived in. “Did a young man land here last night?”
“There be many young men come to the Bankside, good Master. You know as well as I. Young rakes in search of a good time at the taverns or theatres and the company of low women.”
Master Drew took out a penny and fingered it before the man’s eyes.
“This man would have been well dressed and foreign withal.”
“Foreign, you say? Spoke he like a Dago?”
Drew’s eyes narrowed.
“You spoke with him?”
“By my soul, I did. It was late and I was about to go back to the Bell. There were few folk around. He came from the quay and asked if I could direct him to Stony Street, which I did. He then asked if I knew whether the Gardiner house still stood. That I could not say for I had never heard of it. But when he confided that Gardiner was once the bishop here, I said he had best call at Winchester Palace and enquire there. I told him where that was and he gave me a coin and went his way. That’s all I do know.”
Master Drew dropped the penny into the man’s hand and instructed the boatmen to stand ready to transport the Count back to Somerset House. The mortuary was not far away and, as soon as the Count had confirmed that the body of the young man was, indeed, that of his missing secretary, the Chevalier Stefano Jardiniero, he was despatched with one of the guards back to the boat, with assurances that his murderer would soon be found.
With the officer and the other guard in attendance, Master Drew made his way directly to Winchester Palace and went straightway to the gatekeeper, who was the same man who had been on duty earlier.
“Who was on watch here last night between dusk and midnight?” he demanded without preamble.
The man looked nervously from the constable, whom he knew, to the liveried soldiers behind him.
“Why, old Martin, Master Drew.”
“And where shall I find old Martin?” snapped the constable.
“About this time o’ day, he’ll be in the Bear Pit Tavern.”
It was a short walk to the tavern, which was on the quayside, and old Martin was soon pointed out.
Master Drew seated himself opposite the elderly man.
“Last evening you were the watch at the entrance to Winchester Palace.” It was a statement and not a question.
Martin looked at him with rheumy eyes.
“I cannot deny it.”
“A young foreign gentleman called there?”
“He did, good master. That he did. He asked me if the Gardiner House on Stony Street still stood.”
“And you told him?”
“I told him that all the houses belonged to the diocese of Winchester, and which did he mean? He was trying to explain when Master Burton came by and took him aside to offer his help. They were deep in conversation for a while and then the foreign gentleman… well, he went off looking quite content.”
“You saw no more of him?”
“None.”
“And who is this Master Burton?”
“Why, he be manservant to Sir Gilbert Scrivener.”
Master Drew sat back with a curious smile on his face.
Within fifteen minutes he was standing before the desk of the secretary to His Grace, the Bishop of Winchester, with the officer of the Lord Chancellor’s guard at the door. Sir Gilbert was frowning in annoyance.
“I have much business to occupy me, Master Constable. I trust this will not take too long, and only condescend to spare the time as you now say you come on the Lord Chancellor’s business.”
Master Drew returned his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated by the man or his office.