Flexing his smarting hand, Chaloner went after the wig, which sensed him coming and began to move faster still. It shot under a chest, and emerged at high speed through the other side. Then it whipped across the floor, aiming for the door and the freedom beyond. Chaloner slammed the door shut before it could effect its escape, ignoring the Earl’s furious reprimands for not letting it become someone else’s problem. Eventually, he managed to pin it down on one of the Turkish carpets. When he picked it up a second time, he was rather more careful.
‘A ferret,’ he said, examining the wriggling creature within. ‘I thought it would be a rat.’
The Earl peered at it, still holding on to Haddon. His expression was already turning from fearful to indignant. ‘A ferret? You mean an animal dares to make its nest inside my favourite headpiece?’
‘It is tied there,’ explained Chaloner, using his dagger to cut through the knots. The little creature was incensed by its rough treatment, and squirmed vigorously, making his task more difficult. ‘I imagine this comes courtesy of the Lord of Misrule.’
‘A trick?’ demanded the Earl, anger growing. ‘I have been driven on top of my desk by a trick?’
Haddon climbed off his chair, his lips tight with fury. ‘I fail to see the humour in torturing an animal. It is a despicable thing to do, and they should be ashamed of themselves. Have they hurt it?’
Chaloner shook his head. ‘It is just frightened — but not nearly as much as you two were.’
The Earl glared at him. ‘This situation is not amusing. And if you tell another living soul about this, I shall … I do not know what I shall do, but suffice to say I shall not be pleased.’
Chaloner held the ferret by the scruff of the neck, so it could neither bite him nor escape. Haddon took it from him, and began to soothe it by rubbing the soft fur on its head. Beady eyes regarded him crossly at first, but then it snuggled into the crook of his arm.
‘It is tame,’ the steward said, touched. ‘It will be someone’s companion. Poor thing!’
‘I will take it to St James’s Park and release it,’ offered Chaloner. ‘It will-’
‘No!’ cried Haddon, cradling the animal protectively. ‘You will not! A dog or a fox will have it. It probably belongs to one of the kitchen boys, who will be heartbroken to find it missing.’
‘Go and find him, then,’ said the Earl tiredly. ‘There is no need for a child to suffer, just because the Lord of Misrule — whom I suspect is that vile Chiffinch — sees fit to mock his Lord Chancellor. We shall put it about that his trick was discovered before my periwig started racing about the floor. I do not want him to know it worked, because he might try it again with something larger.’
Haddon covered the ferret with his hat, to protect it from the cold, and went to do as he was told. Uncomfortable with the notion that someone had entered the offices illicitly, Chaloner searched them, to ensure no other pranks were waiting to unfold. The Earl watched uneasily, and only relaxed when his spy assured him that all was in order.
‘I have had a terrible day,’ he said mournfully, flopping into a chair and mopping his brow with a piece of lace. ‘And it is not even light yet. Did you know I found Langston dead earlier?’
Chaloner raised his eyebrows. ‘It is true? I hoped it was just coffee-house gossip.’
‘You heard it in a coffee house?’ The Earl was aghast. ‘Is nothing sacred? I suppose the guards must have blathered. It gave me a terrible fright, you see, and my cries of alarm brought them running.’
‘What were you doing at Westminster so early, sir?’ asked Chaloner, trying to keep the reproach from his voice. ‘You know it is not safe.’
‘I had important business there — urgent missives for France, which were scribed overnight and required my seal before being dispatched to Dover today.’
‘Could these documents not have been brought to your home?’
‘I grew anxious waiting for them, and Haddon and Turner were to hand, so I told them to accompany me. Turner is good with a sword, so I felt quite safe. We were cutting through the Painted Chamber, when we discovered Langston. Dead.’
‘Poisoned?’
‘Turner thinks so. It was just like the first two: a corpse lying on the floor, with no sign of a cup or a jug. He has gone to find out where Greene was at the salient time, even though he was exhausted — he spent all last night at that ridiculous Babylonian ball, listening for gossip about the murders. He is a diligent fellow, working on my behalf. Where were you last night? Asleep in bed?’
Chaloner was tempted to say he had been resting after an attack intended to kill him, but managed to hold his tongue. The Earl could not be trusted to keep the tale to himself, and Chaloner did not want the train-band learning they had left a survivor just yet. He addressed another issue instead.
‘I also heard you had asked Langston to be your spy. Did you?’
The Earl glowered at him. ‘You spend too much time in coffee-houses, and too little on your duties. Turner would never waste his energies listening to gossip.’
‘You just said he spent all last night doing exactly that, at the Babylonian ball,’ Chaloner pointed out before he could stop himself. He rubbed his head and closed his eyes, wishing he had not spoken. Aggravating the Earl was not a wise thing to do.
‘You presume too much on my patience,’ said the Earl coldly. ‘Either find evidence that shows Greene is the killer, or find yourself another employer. Do you understand me?’
Chaloner frowned. ‘I am not sure. Are you ordering me to look only for evidence that proves Greene is guilty, and ignore anything that might point to another culprit?’
The Earl flung up his hands in exasperation. ‘What is wrong with you today? Can you not string two words together without abusing me? Of course Greene is guilty, and I cannot imagine why you refuse to believe it — the Lady is going around declaring his innocence, for a start. Did you know that? That is as good as screaming his culpability from the rooftops as far as I am concerned. The King’s mistress does not demean herself by taking the side of insignificant clerks without good reason.’
Chaloner gazed uneasily at him. ‘Lady Castlemaine has taken Greene’s side? I did not know.’
‘Well, you do now,’ snapped the Earl.
Chaloner left the Earl with his thoughts in a whirl of confusion. He looked in Bulteel’s little office, hoping to obtain some confirmation of their master’s claims, but it was too early for the secretary, and his desk was empty. Why would Lady Castlemaine take Greene’s side? Was it because she hated the Lord Chancellor with a passion, and tended to support anyone he disliked, as a matter of principle? Or was she involved in the murders somehow? Chaloner could not imagine why she should stoop to such dark and dangerous business, but she was an incorrigible meddler, so perhaps she could not help herself. The Lady was not someone he wanted to confront, though — at least, not until he had more information.
It was still dark when he reached the bottom of stairs and stepped outside, and there was not the slightest glimmer in the eastern sky to herald the arrival of dawn. The lights in Lady Castlemaine’s rooms were being doused, indicating her soirée was at an end. Her guests spilled into the Privy Garden, laughing and shouting as they went, careless of the fact that most White Hall residents would still be sleeping. Chaloner thought he saw a face peer out of the Queen’s window, then withdraw quickly. When he looked back to the garden, he saw the King weaving across it, arm around someone dressed as a concubine. The slender perfection of the near-naked limbs led him to suppose it was the Lady, but she wore a mask, and he could not be sure. He loitered until he spotted Brodrick.
‘I am sure no harm will befall the Earl in the coming week,’ he said, approaching soundlessly, and speaking just as his master’s cousin was about to relieve himself against a statue of Prince Rupert.