The Gallows Murders

the time. Master Spurge the surveyor had ordered him to join us. He carried some writ.' The fellow shrugged. ‘I didn't have to pay him, and he proved to be a good worker.' 'All the time?' I asked.
    Well, no, sometimes he'd disappear. Yet, when he was here, he worked like a stoat, up and down the scaffolding like a monkey.' 'Sakker!' Benjamin hissed. Who?' The master mason asked. 'I don't suppose the man Ealdred is here now?'
    ‘No.' The master mason shook his head. ‘Yesterday afternoon was the last time I saw him.'
    Benjamin thanked him and hurried away, shouting for Vetch.
    ‘I want the guard turned out!' my master explained. ‘I want every able-bodied man in the garrison out here on the green.'
    Vetch was about to protest. My master plucked the Cardinal's warrant from his wallet and shoved it in his face.
    What's this? What's this?' Kemble came hurrying out of the royal apartments, Spurge trailing behind him.
    'I want a search of the Tower,' Benjamin declared. ‘I want every rubbish and midden-heap, every nook and cranny scrutinised.' Benjamin gazed steadily at Spurge. ‘We are looking for the corpse of Robert Sakker: a born actor, a master of disguise known to some people as the clerk in the stores Philip Allardyce, and to others as the labourer Ealdred.'
    Spurge stared back, slack-jawed. Benjamin pointed across to where the labourers were standing, intrigued by the excitement my master was causing.
    'Oh, for the Lord's sake!' Kemble snapped. 'Are you saying this Sakker, having left the Tower faking his own death, had the impudence to return as the labourer Ealdred? Surely he would be recognised?'
    Benjamin stared up at the sky, where the great ravens were cawing raucously at being disturbed.
    This Tower,' Benjamin murmured, 'is a narrow, straight place, full of doors and entrances, secret gullies and dark alleyways. Master Constable, it would be easy for a man to slip in and out, particularly if he changed the colour of his hair, or the way he walks, or his voice.' Benjamin pointed across to where the masons were now shuffling down towards Lion Gate. 'Could you tell one from the other? Do you ever look, Sir Edward, at a labourer as you would a court lady? To see the colour of his eyes, or the shape of his mouth, the cut of his beard? Master Spurge!' Benjamin beckoned the surveyor over. 'Did you give a labourer, calling himself Ealdred, the right to work on the walls?'
    Spurge nodded fearfully. 'He came here when the Tower opened, said he was a mason, ready to work for nothing except his victuals.' 'And you accepted that?'
    'Of course,' Spurge stuttered. 'Skilled labour is scarce, the work is done faster. It's not the first time-'
    'Aye,' Benjamin interrupted, 'but will your accounts show he was paid?'
    Spurge blushed at being caught out in one of his trade's ancient vices; submitting bills for labourers who were not paid a penny.
    ‘Well,' Benjamin glanced at an angry Kemble, 'he was really Sakker!'
    And, spinning on his heel, my master walked across the green, which was now thronged with scullions, men-at-arms, even grooms from the stable. They stood, some of them sleepy-eyed, others moaning at being pulled away from their duties. Benjamin went up the steps leading to the great keep. He stopped half-way and, clapping his hands, indicated for them to draw near. He opened his wallet and drew out a pure gold coin. He immediately had everyone's attention.
    'Pure gold!' Benjamin shouted. 'A pure gold crown for whoever finds the man I am looking for!' 'Who is?' Vetch shouted. 'A corpse,' Benjamin replied. ‘Where could it be?' a soldier shouted.
    'Anywhere,' Benjamin replied. 'I don't know what he looks like, how he is dressed, but he is a corpse, freshly killed. This gold crown for the man who finds him. And,' he raised his voice, 'for all those who assist, a shilling to be paid from His Grace the Cardinal's bounty, as well as a hogshead of wine to celebrate!'
    I tell you this, if Kemble or Vetch had tried to stop them, a mutiny would have broken out. Everything in the Tower ceased, even old Ragusa came staggering out, recovered from her drunken stupor, to join in this search.
    Daylight began to fade, torches were lit and the task continued. Kemble and his officers, snorting with annoyance, retreated to their own quarters. However, just as darkness fell, a soldier, enterprising enough to search amongst a midden-heap, found what we were looking for: a corpse of a man, a crossbow quarrel through the side of