The Gallows Murders

most of his time with me.' 'And the day he was killed?' I asked.
    'We were to meet here one evening. He never came. The next morning they fished his body from the Thames. Someone had knocked him on the head but had not bothered to steal a penny from his purse or the rings from his fingers. He'd been put into a sack with weights and tossed into the Thames.' She paused as the landlord brought across the wine which she grasped and drank greedily. 'All I could think was that someone had wanted revenge. What does the Bible say, sir? Eye for eye, tooth for tooth?' 'I don't think so,' Benjamin retorted. 'I think Hellbane was killed because of what he knew.'
    My master grasped her hand. 'Marisa, did he ever remark on anything strange happening in the Tower?’
    'He hated the place,' she whispered, turning her cup. 'He claimed that, at night, ghosts walked. He heard strange sounds and cries… But no, he didn't mention anything in particular.'
    'And he drank with the rest of the hangmen?' Benjamin asked.
    'Oh yes, and sometimes they drank deeply. I joined them. The last occasion was the sixth of June, the King's birthday. It's the ancient custom for the constable to host a banquet for the Guild of Hangmen in the royal apartments.' She smiled thinly. 'A macabre affair, Masters. Mallow, Hellbane and the rest, all dressed in their hangmen's costumes, black leather jerkins, belts, swords; they even wore their masks and hoods. I and the other girls were quite frightened.
    'And what happened?' I asked, curious at the thought of hangmen sitting at a table, masked and cowled, feasting and drinking.
    Well, Sir Edward's a good man and the wine flowed. Afterwards, well, we played Hangmen's Bluff The men hid and their girl friends, we had to search for them.' She sipped from the cup. ‘You can imagine, sirs, the squealing, the kissing, the slapping and tickling! The galleries and corridors were dark, and each of the men masked!' Was Undershaft there? Mallow's lieutenant?' I asked.
    'Oh yes, but he was by himself. The others called him a spoilsport so he took part for a while and then went home.' She smiled to herself. We did drink deeply that night.'
    'Did Hellbane say anything?' I asked, an idea forming in my mind. 'Did anything untoward happen during those festivities?' Marisa tossed her head and rubbed her face. 'I can't remember much. Sir Edward Kemble and his officers were there. The wine flowed like water. Undershaft left early, I remember that. Others were lying in corridors or galleries, drunk as sots. That's all I know'
    Benjamin handed the silver over and we made to leave. 'Sirs!' she called.
    We went back to the table. She stared up at us and said, 'Hellbane thought Undershaft's death was curious: the man didn't have an enemy in the world. He kept to his woman and children.' She paused. ‘You might be right, for all I know; both he and poor Hellbane could have been party to some dreadful secret but what it was, I don't know'
    I leaned across the table, kissed her cheek, and pressed a coin of my own into her hands. ‘I am sorry I was rude,' I whispered.
    ‘You must come back to the Monkshood some time,' she smiled. And, for a while, her eyes softened as her soul reappeared.
    We left the tavern and walked back through the streets towards the Tower. 'What do you think this secret is?' Benjamin asked.
    'I disagree with Marisa,' I replied. 'But what happens,. Master, if, during those festivities on the King's birthday, the hangmen did see or learn something mysterious? Perhaps they don't even realise it?' 'And?' Benjamin asked.
    "Well, they were all masked and hooded,' I replied. 'Perhaps one of them stumbled on something. In their disguise and the poor light, the holder of this mystery decided it was best if they all die, just to ensure he kills the right one.'
    'But, if that's the case, my dear Roger, the hangmen who did stumble on that secret would realise they were being pursued and act accordingly.' I couldn't answer that. "Let's visit Mistress Undershaft,' Benjamin declared.
    We found the good widow woman sitting in a parlour embroidering a piece of linen. In the rooms above, we could hear the maid shooing the children into bed. Mistress Undershaft was welcoming enough, offering us ale and bread, but Benjamin refused. We sat opposite, watching as she continued to thread the needle for the cloth. "You have great skill, Mistress,' Benjamin remarked.
    "My mother taught me,' she replied smilingly. 'But you are not here to