The Gallows Murders

off the bed, eyes open, blood drooling out of the corner of his mouth. The stench was terrible. I sent for Sir Edward Kemble.' 'And did he come?' I asked.
    'Oh no, not that chicken-heart. He climbed half-way up the stairs, took one look at the chamber, and told me to throw a sheet over the man. I did. The following morning two of the soldiers took his sheeted corpse down to the death-cart at the Lion Gate. He was dead as a nail!'
    I was about to turn when she caught my sleeve. 'You promised payment. The Tower has many mysteries, Master, but that poor clerk's death was not one.'
    'Such as?' I asked, coming back, closing the door behind me. I dropped the silver coin into her hands and tapped my fingers against the dagger in my belt.
    'Don't threaten me, Master.' She stepped back. ‘I am Ragusa, at least seventy summers old. I have seen all the great lords come tripping through here: Edward the Fourth of blessed memory, his brother Richard of York, the Duke of Buckingham, the present King's father. All come and gone like shadows in the sun.' "You saw the young Princes?' I asked curiously.
    'Aye, poor boys. Oh, they were well looked after, but they were shut up in Wakefield Tower. I saw them playing on the green when their uncle seized the Crown. The elder one fell ill with an abscess in his jaw. I visited him and gave the lad tincture of cloves.' "But they were in good health?'
    'As rude and robust as you are, Master.' She shrugged. Then one day they disappeared: that was the end of the matter.'
    Do you know other mysteries?’ I asked. Tell me, Mother, if all the gates and doorways in the Tower were locked and sealed, could anyone leave or enter?’
    'A witch might,' she taunted. 'She might fly over the walls on her broomstick.'
    "Witches are burnt at Smithfield, madam.' – 'Aye and so are hangmen.' Her wizened face took on a sly, secretive look. 'Oh, we know what this is all about. Sir Edward Kemble's terror when he opened that letter was known by us all.'
    I plucked another silver coin from my purse. 'Mother, can you help?’
    She knocked the coin from my hand, her hands were so swollen and rheumatic. She scrabbled on the floor for it then stood up. ‘No, I can't help. But if things change, you'll be the first to know.' I turned, my hand on the latch.
    They say there is a secret passageway,' she added. Down near the menagerie, under the pits there.' She lifted her stiff; vein-streaked hands. 'But I have told you enough!' she snapped.
    I left the old harridan and walked back, following the line of the wall. I went through a small door into an area which overlooked the moat, squeezed between the outer and inner walls. This contained the royal menagerie. A stinking, fetid place, with cages built along the walls holding a mangy lion and a leopard, mad of eye, ribs showing through its coat, pacing up and down. There was a pelican as well as a big, fat brown bear manacled by chains to the wall: the beast hardly bothered to lift its head as I came in to the enclosure. The area was deserted. The keepers, or whoever was paid to look after them, probably drifted away to clear their heads of the smell and bask in the warm afternoon sunshine. On the far side of the enclosure I glimpsed the brick rim of a pit, surrounded by a carpet of sand. I walked across to this, my feet crunching on pebble-covered ground. I gingerly looked over the pit. It must have been about ten feet deep and stank like a cesspool.
    At first I thought it was empty, but then a grey bundle which I thought was a collection of rags stirred, and an old, bleary-eyed wolf, tongue lolling between his jaws, looked up at me. I'd seen more vigour in a corpse. I walked round the pit. Although the wolf was old it had a terrible madness all of its own. Moreover, its thick, heavy-furred shoulders, long lean body, drooping brushed tail, erect head and pointed face brought back nightmares from Paris. I walked away, back to look at the Hon which had hardly stirred but lay on its side fast asleep. A clink, as if someone had thrown a coin on to the gravel, made me start. ‘Who's there?' I called.
    No answer. I was about to leave, putting more trust in Master Spurge's maps than my own curiosity when, again, there was a clink. Now, old Shallot has been in many dangerous places before. Someone was here, either hiding in one of the outhouses, or where the fodder and hay was stored. I glanced around and wondered if someone had come along the parapet. My flesh chilled. If