The Gallows Murders

reached the Wakefield Tower, slammed the door behind me and climbed the dark, winding steps. I reached the top. My chamber door was closed; I pushed it open and went in. There was no one there, no one lurking behind the arras or under the bed. Yet my uneasiness grew. Like the good dog I am, I knew there was something wrong. Had anybody watched me leave, then come up here to plot some villainy? But what? I went across to the water jug, this was still empty. I checked the bed carefully for a dagger hidden there: some stale bread lay on a platter but, apart from signs that it had been nibbled by a rat, I could detect nothing amiss.
    Now the chamber was circular, with arrow-slit windows every few paces. I went around and stared through these, my unease turning to terror. 'Someone came up here,' I whispered.
    I had left the door half-open, yet when I had returned it had been firmly shut. Outside, a raven, disturbed from its sleep, suddenly soared up past the window, its black feathery wings flapping like those of the angel of death. I jumped, almost dropping the wine and bread I had brought. What was wrong? No poison, no hidden dagger, no secret assassin! I looked at my bed but couldn't tell whether it had been disturbed or not. I went across and looked at Benjamin's. It was neat and tidy, as it always was. The coverlet was drawn up, except where it had been disturbed by my feeling for some knife in the mattress. I looked at the bolsters and walked slowly backwards. Hadn't Benjamin been sitting on the bed? Weren't the bolsters up against the wall as if he had used them as a rest? And hadn't he thrown something there? I stared round the room. A quilted, tasselled cushion lay in a corner. Had it been there before I left? I took out my sword, a long, evil-looking blade with a wire-mesh guard. I went back to Benjamin's bed. Gingerly using the point of the weapon, I pulled back the coverlet, dragging off one bolster, then the other.
    Lord, I screamed, as the viper moved its sleek head, tongue lashing its venom at the person who dared disturb his sleep. Now I have fought rats. I have been chased by wolves, leopards, dogs, and every kind of assassin under the sun. But snakes hold a particular horror for me. I just closed my eyes and lashed out with the sword, chopping down, time and time again. When I opened my eyes, the snake was severed in at least five places, and Benjamin's bed was completely destroyed. I admit I am a coward, and there's nothing like a coward who's narrowly escaped death. I went round that chamber cutting at everything, thrusting my sword through bolsters, blankets, counterpanes, cushions, the straw padding of the two chairs. When I had finished, my arms ached and my body was drenched in sweat. I grabbed the wine jug, sat by a stool near the door, and drank myself stupid. I had eaten little that day, my belly was empty, and within the hour I was as drunk as a bishop. I dimly recall Benjamin returning, his exclamations of surprise at what he found. I remember getting up, solemnly declaiming how Satan had visited me in the form of a snake, before falling into a dead swoon at his feet.
    I woke the next morning safe and sound, Benjamin sitting next to me. My mouth was dry as sand, my head thudded like a drum and my stomach heaved. Benjamin asked me to sit up. He fed me water and a rather bittersweet gruel.
    'I obtained this from Ragusa,' he explained. 1 don't know what's in it, but she claims it's a universal remedy against intoxication.' He fed me like a baby. 'I found the snake,' he grinned. 'Or what was left of it. I told you not to leave.'
    Where did that come from?' I pushed away the horn spoon.
    'In the grasslands north of the Tower,' Benjamin replied. ‘You could fill a barrel with vipers and adders.' He held up the spoon. ‘Ragusa says it will work soon.'
    I suddenly felt sick, and headed like a greyhound to the latrines. God knows what was in that potion, yet it proved to be an almost miraculous cure. My head eventually cleared, my stomach settled, even my mouth tasted sweet. I hastily washed, shaved, changed my clothes and, at Benjamin's urging, helped him clean up the chamber.
    There's no real hurry,' he remarked. 'Our meeting with all our acquaintances here in the Tower is not until four o'clock.'
    'Four o'clock, Master!' I exclaimed. What time is it now?' 'I let you sleep until noon,' Benjamin rejoined.
    I finished tidying the room. Benjamin refused to be drawn on where he had been the previous