‘You knew Nell?’ Rosina broke in excitedly. ‘So did I! After I went to live at Minster Lovell, when Gideon entered Sir Francis’s household, we became friends. Close friends. She confided in me all about her marriage and how she secretly hated that brute of a husband of hers. It was I,’ the nurse added proudly, ‘who told her how she could get rid of him and make it look like an accident. It would seem that after we left, to come to London, she took my advice, but somehow it all went wrong. I couldn’t understand it. I was heartbroken when I heard what had happened.’
Audrey Owlgrave snorted. ‘It was all the fault of that interfering chapman.’ And she gave her companion a brief version of the events which led to Mistress Blancheflower’s untimely death, adding, ‘The chapman told me all this himself, so I know it for the truth.’
I heard Rosina Copley draw in her breath, and when she spoke her tone was vicious. ‘Yet another reason to be rid of him then. I shall tell Amphillis to enjoy her work tonight. I must return to Baynard’s Castle at once. But first, go and ask the landlord where that bastard’s sleeping.’
I sat there wondering what to do. I had no hope of leaving the ale room unobserved: my height alone drew all eyes. Then I realized that it didn’t matter if the women saw me as long as I pretended to be unaware of them, and just as long as they didn’t realize that I had been close enough to overhear their conversation. So I stood up quietly and pushed my way between the benches and stools around that side of the room so that when I passed the two women on their settle, I appeared to be coming from an entirely different direction. I refrained, with the greatest difficulty, from glancing their way, and managed to stumble a little, suggesting I might be slightly drunk or still had a weakness in my limbs. I climbed the stairs to my chamber and turned to bolt the door.
There wasn’t one. Nor a lock nor a key. Horrified, I sat down on the edge of the bed to think.
I could, of course, simply lie in wait for my assassin. I should have no difficulty in overpowering Amphillis Hill if I hid myself behind the door. But the last thing I wanted was to alert the Sisterhood to the fact they were in danger of immediate discovery. Then, as Audrey had predicted, Gideon, wherever he was, would be murdered and his body disposed of without anyone being the wiser as to his fate. As for Amphillis herself, even if I handed her over to the authorities, she would no doubt wriggle out of any accusation I brought against her. Who would believe that this sweet little thing was a murderer? I could hardly believe it myself. She could so easily claim that I had lured her to my room with rape in mind, and it would be my word against hers. And the landlord of the Rattlebones would never come to my aid with a story of two women wanting to know where I was sleeping. Whatever happened at his inn, he was always going to be looking the other way.
There was only one thing to do and that was to return to Bertha’s, to let Amphillis find the room empty and the bird flown. But I jibbed at the thought of involving my old friend further in my affairs. Besides, I was bone weary and still not restored to full health and strength. I needed a soft bed for the night, not the hard floor of Bertha’s unsavoury hut. Then, suddenly, like a gift from heaven, I remembered Bess’s generous offer. No doubt she had something other than sleeping in mind, but I couldn’t help that.
I stood up and arranged one of the pillows as best I could in a humped shape beneath the bedclothes. I couldn’t really believe that it would fool anybody, but in the dark, and if Amphillis brought no light with her, it might just serve its purpose. I should know in the morning. Then I closed the shutters tightly, picked up my hat, tiptoed out of the room, carefully latching the door behind me, and mounted the stairs to the attics.
I opened my eyes to the early morning light and Bess’s face staring indignantly down into mine.
‘You went to sleep,’ she accused me. ‘You got into my bed and you went to sleep!’
‘I–I’m sorry,’ I apologized feebly. ‘I–I was tired.’
There was a furious silence. Then she burst out laughing. ‘So why did you come up here?’ she asked at last.
‘If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.’
‘I could try.’
I made no reply. I had suddenly realized to my horror that I was as naked as she was.
‘D-did I undress?’ I stuttered.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I did it for you. I hoped it might wake you up, but you were like one dead.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve known a few men in my life, but never one like you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said again.
I made to rise, but was forcefully pushed down again by two small, but determined hands.
‘Oh no!’ Bess said. ‘You don’t get away as easily as that!’
‘I’m a married man,’ I pleaded feebly as she knelt astride me, still pinning me to the mattress.
‘You all are,’ she retorted. ‘Or, at least, you all say you are.’
‘I really am,’ I told her desperately, but she just laughed and, leaning forward, kissed me full on the mouth.
It was a lingering, sensual kiss, and after such an invitation, I felt I should be a brute to disappoint her.
Well, what else could I have done?
Later — quite a while later in fact — noises of the household stirring and the landlord’s voice shouting up the stairs, ‘Bess! Bess! Where are you, you lazy whore?’ alerted us both to the fact that it was now some time since sun-up. We scrambled out of bed and into our clothes.
‘Come back tonight,’ she whispered, giving me a parting kiss.
I made no answer, but she was in too much of a hurry to notice my lack of reply.
When Bess had gone, I finished dressing in a more leisurely fashion, then, my heart thumping in anticipation, I descended the attic stairs to my own room, wondering uneasily what I should find.
The door was still closed. Cautiously, I unlatched and pushed it open, waiting for any tell-tale sound from within, but all was quiet. I stepped inside. The room was empty and there was hardly anywhere for anyone to hide. Even so, such was the irritation of my nerves, that I peered under the bed, behind its dust-laden and much torn curtains, and, finally, lifted the lid of the chest beneath the window. There was of course no one there. Had anyone come at all? Was it possible that Amphillis liked me sufficiently to have refused this murderous assignment?
Then I opened the shutters and turned my attention to the bedclothes and all such vainglorious thoughts went flying. The pillow had been pulled free of the blankets and ripped open from end to end (there were feathers everywhere, some beginning to stir again in the draught from the open casement). And lying beside it, just in case I failed to get the message, was a black-handled knife and a sprig of birch leaves.
I suddenly remembered Bertha and wondered if Amphillis, finding me missing, as she thought, from the Rattlebones, had gone to search for me there. I hadn’t actually heard Mistress Owlgrave mention Bertha’s name to Rosina Copley, but then I hadn’t by any means been privy to all their conversation, and it would be strange if Audrey had not explained how and where she met me.
The thought had no sooner entered my head than I was down the stairs and out of the inn, running for Bertha’s hut on Angel Wharf as though the Devil and all his cohorts were at my heels, bursting in on her and shouting her name. Just for one heart-stopping moment, I thought she wasn’t there; then what looked like a heap of old clothes, drying beside the dying embers of her fire, stirred and sat up.
Bertha regarded me indignantly.
‘Sweet Jesus, what’s the matter with you, lad? Frightened me out o’ my wits, you did! Come fer yer money, ’ave you? Yer purse is over in that corner, under them pile o’ rags.’ She dragged herself to her feet and, still grumbling, went to fetch it for me. As I attached it to my belt again, she inspected me grimly. ‘I can’t say ’as ’ow ye’re lookin’ much better fer yer night’s rest. Pale, an’ dark shadows under yer eyes. What you bin up to?’