The Gallows Murders

his hand into his silken robes and drew out a roll of parchment which he handed to Benjamin, who studied it and, ignoring the King's hiss of anger, passed it to me. The letter was couched in the same kind of language as before: the writing beautifully elegant, the bottom of the letter bore two seals. It purported to be from Edward V, King of England: it called Henry a "usurper, fulminating against his perfidy. Imperious in its demand that two thousand pounds be left in front of St Paul's Cross on 28 August, the feast of St Augustine. It closed with the arrogant phrase, 'Given at our palace at the Tower during August in the fortieth year of our reign.' Will you pay? I asked. The words came out in a rush.
    Henry leaned down. ‘Pay, little Shallot! You, my little pickle onion! My little dropping! You, a stain on my court! You will take the two thousand pounds at noon on that day, but you shall arrest the villain responsible.'
    The threat seemed to sweeten Henry's mood. He smiled brilliantly at Wolsey, kicked me once again and rose to his feet. He patted his stomach.
    "Did you like my Mass, Shallot? Asking God's blessing on my hunting dogs?’ He patted my head. Tomorrow you shall hunt with us, but tonight we will feast.'
    He swept out of the chapel. Wolsey stopped to sketch a blessing in the air above his nephew's head. He followed in a billow of scarlet silk gowns. Agrippa opened the door for them, grinned at us, then slammed it behind him. ‘I’ll kill him!' I whispered, getting to my feet. 'Benjamin, he treats me like a dog.' "Roger! Roger!' Benjamin slipped his arm through mine as we walked down the church.
    ‘Mind you,' I scoffed, He's frightened, isn't he? Terrified of the Yorkist ghosts? Do you think it could be a plot?' I added. ‘Remember, Master, years ago, the Brotherhood of the White Rose? Yorkists plotting against the Tudors?'
    Benjamin pulled a face. Time has passed, Roger. The House of York is a withered root. No flower, no fruit grows there. The fate of the two Princes,' he added quietly, stopping to admire a tapestry hanging on the wall just above the door, 'that is of interest, but only because of those seals. Where a king is, so are the insignia of office. However, what we are hunting here, Roger, is a blackmailer and a murderer, and a very clever one at that. But come, the trumpets will bray and Uncle wishes to see us at supper.'
    We scurried back to our chambers. Like good little boys, we changed and went down to the hall or, should I say, one of the halls in the inner keep. A magnificent occasion. The room was lit by so many candles you'd think it was daytime: their flames dazzled the gold and silver plate stacked high on shelves and chests around the room. Pure woollen carpets with silk fringes covered the floor. The best Flemish tapestries hung on the walls. Silver and gilt vases full of blooming red roses filled the air with their perfume. (Another sign of Henry's madness. He was so determined to stamp out the White Rose of York, every bloody building had red roses carved in the ceilings or walls. Henry had six craftsmen skilled in carving them. Mind you, one of the funny things about the Great Beast's palaces were his changing wives. He would be carried away in such a flood of affection, he'd insist that the initials of himself and his current queen be placed everywhere. He had six queens! So many he became tired of changing initials. I thought it was particularly amusing that his last queen, sharp-faced Catherine Parr, had the same name as his first. If he had chosen a line of queens with the same name, he would have saved himself a lot of money.)
    The supper party that night was not one of Henry's great banquets but a small, intimate affair. The King, of course, had his table on a dais, with a large, throne-like chair in the centre, under a white silk canopy adorned with red roses. Wolsey and some of his cronies sat alongside him. Benjamin and I sat at one of the two tables just below this. Nonetheless, Henry liked his feasting and this occasion was as glorious as any. The plate was of heavy gold or silver, the tablecloths white satin. The meats – venison, boar, swan – were all professionally cooked in tasty, rich sauces, and followed by delicious confectionery, cakes, custards and trifles, whilst the wine flowed like water.
    I confess I was in a foul mood. I don't like being treated like a dog. I was also still trembling after my escape from that wolf, so I drank deeply. After