The man dressed in chain mail whom she ran into in the maze of corridors leading from the brewhouse took her for a dangerous intruder. Dressed as she was in a simple green gown, barefoot, with her thick red hair, uncovered and sticking out in tangles from her head, he assumed she was no lady. In fact, her wild claims of dead men in barrels made him think she was a madwoman. He called for assistance, and he and his two companions overpowered the lunatic, dragging her to the brewhouse to confront her delusion. The sight of the drowned man in the water barrel changed their minds. They now decided she was not only a madwoman but a murderer, too. Saphira soon sat shivering in a cold cell deep below the King’s rooms. It was what seemed like an eternity before rescue came.
Sir Thomas Dalyson soon heard the reports of a madwoman loose in the palace and thanked God that she had been apprehended. When he heard that she had red hair, he knew who she was, and he knew he would have to look into the matter further. He didn’t care about what William Falconer might say. But the regent master’s whore had found a place in the heart of the King, and the King would probably want to know where she was. Especially when Megrim, Rixe and Brother Mark failed to calm him down over the loss of the stone. He then pondered the possibility of killing two birds with one stone, and ensuring that the woman was found guilty of the murder she stood accused of. He thought he could arrange that before even the King and Falconer heard of the matter. But before he was able to set the matter in train, he was summoned to the King’s bedside. Entering the dark and stale-smelling room, he saw the familiar trio of physicians, heads together, arguing, as always. Close by the bed of the King sat the tall, calm figure of the regent master from Oxford. Shockingly, Falconer seemed to be laughing at one of Henry’s tantrums. Did the man not know who he was mocking?
Falconer leaned towards the King as the figure of the chamberlain strode over. He whispered in Henry’s ear. ‘Here comes your trained monkey, Majesty. Too late, as always.’
The King momentarily forgot the gravity of the situation and sniggered. Then he put on his most serious face. ‘Sir Thomas, what have you done to get my stone back? This is a most serious affair.’
He could not help a whine growing in his voice. He was scared that without the sacred stone his health might deteriorate once more. Someone who wanted him dead must have taken it. He even suspected that one of his physicians might have secreted it away out of jealousy.
Dalyson bowed low. ‘The matter is being looked into, Majesty. But many strange things are happening at the moment.’
The King looked at him with suspicion written on his face. ‘Strange things? What strange things?’
Dalyson took a quick decision to change his angle of attack concerning the woman. ‘There has been a murder.’
Falconer’s eyes lit up, and he looked closely at the chamberlain. ‘A murder? Who has been killed, and where?’
Dalyson chose to ignore the meddling master, and addressed the King. ‘Majesty, I regret to inform you that your wardroper, Ralph, has been drowned.’
The King stirred weakly in his bed. ‘Ralph? Damn the man for a fool; he knows I prefer him dressing me. He doesn’t pull me about like the others.’
Henry made it seem as though Ralph had committed a treasonable act by allowing himself to be murdered, and thereby depriving his King of one of his little comforts in life.
Falconer ignored the man’s petulance and pressed Dalyson for more information. ‘Is there no hue and cry? I hear nothing.’
Dalyson smirked. ‘There was no need. The killer was found immediately and is imprisoned already.’
‘Who was it?’
Once again, Dalyson turned his back on Falconer’s question, speaking only to Henry. ‘Majesty, I regret to inform you that the woman, Le Veske, is the killer.’
To Dalyson’s astonishment, the King suddenly screwed up his face, which was already turning bright red, and spat a command at his chamberlain. ‘Do not be stupid, man. It could not be her. Go this instant and release her. And when you have apologized to her, bring her to me.’
Humiliated, Sir Thomas Dalyson scurried out of the room to do the King’s bidding.
Meanwhile, Henry, calm once more, turned to Falconer and winked. ‘Now, regent master, how are we to solve this little murder case of mine?’
Once Saphira had been restored to the bedside of the King, Falconer relaxed a little and coached the King in how he might pursue the case. He began with asking about the hours around the time Ralph was last seen alive.
‘I remember Ralph was in the room when I gave you the stone. Right up to the point when the bishop called it a sacred stone. Was that the last time you saw him, Majesty?’
‘No, no. Of course not. Who do you think undressed me last night? He left around compline, as I couldn’t sleep.’ The King seemed to drift off for a moment, then sat up. ‘I still had the stone then.’
‘Oh, yes, the stone. So that disappeared after Ralph had left your chamber?’
The King nodded. ‘Do you think its theft has something to do with Ralph’s death?’
Saphira answered the King’s question. ‘William does not believe in coincidences, Majesty. One event is more often than not connected with the other.’
Falconer was quick to throw in a word of caution. ‘Even so, we should not rush to simple conclusions. Remember the syllogism. Many small truths, when seen all together, can add up to a larger truth not previously imagined.’
The King slapped the surface of the bed beside him in impatience. ‘But what are these truths that we must gather? How can we tell what is significant and what is not?’
‘That is the problem, Majesty. You never know an important fact from an insignificant one until you have accumulated them.’
Falconer could see that the King didn’t appreciate the meticulous nature of deduction. He posed Henry a question. ‘Did anything else unusual happen yesterday?’
‘Well, you were here when some supplicant tried to wheedle his way into my presence. Does that count?’
‘It depends. What do you recall of the occurrence?’
Henry tried to marshal his thoughts.
He was agitated and frustrated. He had now been confined to his bed for weeks, and none of the doctors would look him in the eye when he asked what ailed him. But they were all fools, because he knew anyway — the infirmities of age were catching up on him. More fool him for paying good money to doctors for not telling him this obvious truth. What frustrated him most were the gaps in his recollection of events. Only the other day he had lost his seal ring, and without it he could not endorse any of his edicts.
And had he not summoned the archbishop before sext, and was it not now nearly nones? He could have died unshriven in the time it took for that fat oaf to get to his bedside. He shuddered at the prospect of not reaching the kingdom of heaven, after all the money he had poured into the abbey and St Edward’s tomb. The only crumb of comfort was the arrival of this Oxford master with the sky-stone. It now lay comforting and heavy on his stomach, reminding him of its presence. For the first time in ages he was taking an interest in his surroundings. He wanted to know more about William Falconer. And his pretty whore, the Jewess. Suddenly, he was aware of everyone in the chamber staring at the stone, including Ralph, his wardroper, still fussing with his linen as though reluctant to leave. That was when he ordered everyone out of his chamber save the master and his woman.