The Gallows Murders

'If Spurge and Vetch were lying, they'd lose their heads.'
    We did the full length of the Tower, coming back to where we started, then walked down to where the builders and masons were working on scaffolding up against a wall. They seemed a cheerful bunch of rogues, covered in dust, swearing and cursing as they scrambled about like monkeys. Benjamin called the master mason down.
    'What do you want?' the fellow asked, shaking water from a pannikin over his face and wiping the dust from his wrists and arms.
    'How long have you been working here?' Benjamin asked.
    'Oh, must be a week now, sir.' He looked up. 'Martin!' he shouted.
    A crop-haired, cheery-faced fellow came to the edge of the scaffolding and smiled down at us.
    "We've been here a week haven't we?' The master mason shouted.
    'Aye, it's about that.' The fellow's rustic accent seemed out of place, warm and friendly.
    "Why?' the builder continued. 'Don't say we've got to stay another bloody night here?'
    Benjamin shook his head. 'And you've seen nothing untoward?' he asked the master mason.
    'Sir, we have come in to do the walls, and the walls we will do. Master Spurge has given us directions. We work from dawn till dusk, then -' he raised his voice – ‘We are supposed to go back to our homes. Last night we found the gates sealed and Sir Edward said none of us could leave and so here we stayed.'
    Benjamin thanked him and moved off as the mason, cursing under his breath, climbed the ladder back on to the scaffolding. We returned to the royal quarters, gave Spurge his map back and left the Tower. Kemble had already ordered the main gates to be opened. We went along winding streets to Petty Wales and into the Monkshood tavern.
    If Marisa had been Hellbane's doxy, she had soon forgotten him. We found her in a corner, sitting in the lap of a chapman who was plying her with drink. At first the ruffian was going to object, but when my hand fell to the hilt of my sword, he scampered off muttering that we were welcome to her. Marisa was one of those young women with an old face; hair as black as night falling down to her shoulders, a thin white face, a narrow slit for a mouth and the green eyes of a nasty-tempered cat. She wore a stained blue dress with the bodice cut low; it was rather dirty, but revealed all her charms. When Benjamin put a coin on the table, she leaned a little closer and became much friendlier. ‘I very rarely take two at a time.' 'Shut up!' I snarled. 'It's not your body we are after!'
    Then what?' she snapped and, before I could intervene, her fingers had grasped the silver coin. ‘I am a good girl.' Her voice rose to a screech in an attempt to gain the attention of the landlord who had been standing watching us. I turned and glared at him: he moved to wipe the top of a beer-barrel as if his very life depended on it.
    'Sit down, Marisa,' Benjamin ordered quietly. Another silver coin appeared between his fingers; this time it was held well away from her. 'You knew one of the hangmen at the Tower? A gentleman called Hellbane?'
    Marisa's face softened. 'His real name was Crispin,' she whispered. ‘He was a printer. Did you know that? He came from Southampton where he had killed two men. He fled abroad but he said it was better to starve to death in England than do so in some foreign city, so he came back.' 'Did he enjoy his work?' I asked.
    'Sometimes.' Marisa crossed her arms and sat back, blinking furiously at the tears welling in her eyes. 'He did love me,' she whispered hoarsely. 'He even said he'd marry me. He talked of earning enough, then we'd leave London and the Tower, travel north, go somewhere where no one would know us. Start up his old trade again.'
    'Did he have friends?' Benjamin asked. He leaned across and gently caught her hand. Tell us, Marisa, please. We want to catch his killer.'
    She forced a smile. 'I thought a gentleman always brought a lady a drink?'
    Benjamin called the landlord across and, at Marisa's request, ordered three cups of white wine.
    'And your best!' Marisa screeched. 'None of that bucket-swill! We are going to toast Hellbane's soul!' She turned to Benjamin. 'You asked if Hellbane liked his job, and the truth is no. He hated it. He said when he turned people off the ladder, he always closed his eyes. However, he thought being a hangman was the best protection against the sheriff's warrant. As for friends…? People like Hellbane don't have friends. Sometimes he'd go with that ridiculous guild, but he spent