This plant was hung up in bundles in the Forum Julii on which flies gathered in the evening; they were easily caught when a sack was thrown over each bundle.
At Hill’s house the woman that opened the door told me a great lie when she said he wasn’t home; I saw his shoes thrown down upon the floor in the hallway. They were the only shoes I’d ever seen him wear these last five years, so if he wasn’t at home then he was out and about in his stockings. I did not say as much to the servant for if she spoke a lie then it wasn’t hers. I could only assume that Hill was shy of my attentions, so suggested to her that she ask him to meet me at Paul’s in one hour, a busy place where we could talk without being noticed. She readily agreed and was happily closing the door upon me when she realised, late, that she could hardly commit to pass on the message to a master who wasn’t at home. I cut short her pink-cheeked stutterings, smiled my most charming smile, bowed and took my leave.
I went straight to Paul’s. It was my instinct to meet Hill where it was busy. If he had something to do with the disappearance of my father, then I had to regard him as a dangerous enemy, whatever our history.
The cathedral was full. The noise of the printing presses echoed from the eastern vaults, the meat sellers and fruit sellers wandered the nave shouting out the price and quality of their wares. All of London wandered across — east and west — for it was the fastest route between Ludgate and Cheapside. I went out into the churchyard and lingered beneath a great oak tree from where I could see the Cross; the meeting place where Hill would come.
He arrived soon enough, clean, trimmed and fresh. He was looking about him, peering into the grey gloom. He seemed to be alone. There were still folks loitering so I stepped out.
‘It’s a wet day to be yarning out here, Harry, when we could be tucked up warm in the Crowne.’ His breath billowed out into the cold, crisp air like smoke. ‘So. What news, Harry? You went to Epsom?’ He spoke as a man who knew very well that I went to Epsom.
‘Aye.’
‘What did you find?’
‘It would seem that Keeling’s daughter took her own life ten years ago, when secretly carrying a bastard child. She died on her twentieth birthday, the same as Anne Giles.’
‘Are you sure?’ He looked at me with keen eyes.
I knew what he wanted me to say next. ‘Aye. If indeed this affair is about revenge, then the finger points at Keeling. The Lord Chief Justice himself. He is a big man, is he not?’
A change came over William Hill. Whilst before he had stood like he carried the Wisdom of Solomon on his back, now he seemed to float upwards into the grey sky, the arches of his feet curving gracefully upwards. His face changed too, and for a moment I saw the open, carefree expression of the old William Hill, drinker of fine (and not so fine) wines and ales, witty raconteur. Then he blinked and the smile was gone. Yet still he glowed like a fire at the end of a cold winter’s night. ‘Hold up your head, Harry. Or shall ye have the King’s horse?’ He punched me on the shoulder, unable to contain himself. His eyes sparkled, laughing with a special delight.
‘Why are you so happy to hear of it, William? You are not shocked that I would implicate the Lord Chief Justice?’
He pulled me back towards the dry indoors out of the cold drizzle. ‘What did you say when you discovered it, Lytle? It was clear that something strange and evil was at play. Too strange to guess at, but now that the story is told it rings true like these very bells.’ He leant close. ‘What will you do now?’
‘Dowling is going to talk to the Mayor, attempt to establish if there could be any credibility in it.’
His eyes set to twinkling once more; stars sparkled against the black carpet of his oily eyes. ‘Excellent.’ He patted me on the arm softly and smiled contentedly.
I shook my head. ‘Methinks I am still unable to comprehend that the Lord Chief Justice killed a common girl with his own hands. I still believe Hewitt to be the killer.’
Hill grimaced. ‘Come, Harry.’ He sidled up to me and spoke to me like I was still his younger brother. ‘The reason I am so uppity is that your words ring true. I had heard rumours come from Epsom, which is why I insisted that you go. I was afeared that you would not solve this riddle set to you by Shrewsbury, but by heaven I think you have done it! All this business about Hewitt is nonsense. Merchants don’t go around murdering people to remedy their woes. If they did then you would not be able to walk the streets without being knocked over by one merchant or another chasing some poor scallywag!’
‘You would think so.’ I fixed my eyes upon his. ‘Yet two men abducted my father three days ago, and he is about as dangerous to any man as a bag of feathers.’
For a moment he looked at me like I held a knife to his balls. Then he recovered and looked at me as if it was all news. He adopted a look of great concern and asked me the story of it but I waved him away. I had seen enough in those big black eyes. ‘You know who took him, William. Tell me where I might find him.’
He blinked and lifted his hands to his chest like he was going to sing me a song. ‘I have heard nothing of it, Harry, but I will ask.’
I sneered. ‘The only reason I can think of that any would have taken him is so that I couldn’t speak to him and find out why he wrote me that letter telling me that Anne Giles was my cuz. One of them men that took him was also there the day he wrote the letter. It’s all very strange when considered alongside Shrewsbury’s strange inclination to put himself out supposedly for the sake of my family.’
Hill’s face reddened. I had offended him. ‘He is your patron, Harry, and — as I have told you — he is a good patron to have.’ He rubbed his nose between thumb and forefinger, a familiar sign of uncertainty. ‘If you don’t trust me then I suggest you talk to him.’
‘I don’t think he will talk again with me, Hill. As you know.’
‘I think he will be happier once news of what you have found spreads. It will relieve him of some of the concerns he has for his own safety.’
I frowned at him, trying to work out what he assumed. ‘I will not be spreading the news, William. It was all too easy. It sits awkwardly with me. Now the story is there in my head it indeed rings true like cathedral bells. The bells ring so loud that I cannot help but feel that they were hung especially for me to hear.’
Hill shook his head. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Mary Ormonde told us that her father and Keeling were once Baptists.’
Hill interrupted me, putting a finger to his lips bidding me to be quiet.
‘So! These are not things to say aloud!’ I exclaimed. ‘Yet she did.’
‘She is a country girl, Lytle, innocent in her ways.’
‘Not so innocent, Hill,’ I assured him, ‘for she directed us to her old nanny where next we were told very easily that Jane Keeling took her own life. She then instructed the nanny to direct us to the local surgeon who very easily told us that the girl was with child when she died.’ I shook my head.
‘Why can you not see that such frankness is born of innocence? These simple country people spake the truth because they did not realise the full consequence of their words.’
‘If they are so simple then why should Keeling permit them to live their lives where any might come and discover such a damaging tale? If he is the one that killed Anne Giles and merrily condemned Richard Joyce to an underserved death — then why should he shrink from killing the nanny or the surgeon?’ I shook my head again.
Hill now looked guarded, uncertain of himself. He and I both knew that it was he that had insisted I go to Epsom. If there had been any bells hung for my benefit, it was he that did the stringing.
‘If I was you, Harry, I would share my doubts with Shrewsbury himself. He is your patron, he will guide you.’
‘He did not seem so anxious to guide me last time we spoke. He seemed more concerned that I tell him nothing and be sure his name was not associated with the affair. Would he welcome me mentioning the possibility of the Lord Chief Justice’s guilt?’