The Relic Murders

Silver Lion. 'Do you have anything to say in answer to these charges?' Frumpleton bellowed, glaring hatefully at me. ‘I’m innocent!' I bleated.
    His cruel mouth twisted into a sneer. 'Aye, as innocent as Herod: a fine teller of tales.' The Justice on his right, a liverish-faced sprat, spoke up.
    'A teller of tales! Well, well, Shallot, tell us a tale, and perhaps you won't hang.'
    I saw him nudge Frumpleton, and knew they were only mocking me. The Poppletons, now full of themselves, smiled maliciously. They rubbed their hands, hardly able to wait before sentence was passed.
    'Yes,' Frumpleton bellowed, wrinkling his nose. 'Tell us a funny tale, Shallot, and you probably won't hang.' He glanced sneeringly sideways. 'Well, at least, not immediately.'
    (Now, you know Shallot. When I am down, it's bad enough but to be baited as well!)
    'I'll tell you a funny story,' I shouted back, rattling my chains. 'One day there was a dispute between God and the Devil.'
    'Yes!' Frumpleton nodded. 'But no blasphemy, Master Shallot!'
    'Oh no, sir, the truth. Well, the dispute couldn't be settled so God went back to Heaven and Satan back to Hell. A short while later God sent an emissary to Satan, saying he was unable to get legal advice.' 'Why?' Frumpleton asked.
    'Oh, you see, my lord,' I smiled coolly, 'there aren't any lawyers in Heaven!'
    Well, that was it! On went the black cap and I, Roger Shallot, was sentenced to be taken to a place of lawful execution, namely Tyburn, as soon as possible, which meant the following morning, and hanged by the neck until dead.
    I was hustled from the court, the bailiffs beating and shoving me, and was returned to the condemned cell at Newgate where I spent the night fighting off the rats. The only consolation offered was that just after midnight, when I was sitting blubbering in a corner bemoaning my fate, the Bellman arrived outside. I could hear his voice as he rang the bell for the condemned felons.

    'You who in the condemned cell do lie, Pray on your knees for tomorrow you die!'

    'Piss off,' I screamed.
    I mean, it's bad enough being hanged without having someone ringing a bloody bell and telling you to pray. When dawn came I was really frightened. In my life I've always been plucked from danger just in time but who would do that now? Benjamin was away. Berkeley probably didn't know where I was and how could I get a message to the court?
    When I was dragged out of the cell the next morning I was beginning to shake. Thank God, the friar who climbed into the cart to accompany me to Tyburn had a wineskin and he let me drink liberally from it. By the time the executioner joined us I could hardly sit straight. He glowered at me through his red mask.
    'No trouble from you, my boy. Up the ladder you'll go, fast as a monkey, then jump, as hard as you can. It will snap your neck: they say it's better than strangling.' 'Do you want to show me how it's done?' I asked.
    The executioner grinned. His assistant climbed on to the seat, gathered the reins in his hands and the cart trundled towards the main iron gates. They swung open. The crowds were massed outside, gathering to watch another human being die. I could hardly believe it: I, Roger Shallot, was about to get my just deserts – but for a crime I had never committed! I thought of jumping from the cart but my feet were shackled. I saw the door to the gaoler's office open, and the fat toad waddled out, followed by two other figures. The keeper held up his hand for the horse to stop.
    'Oh, let me die!' I moaned. I didn't want another punch in the face as a fond farewell. 'Stop!' the keeper cried. 'Release that man!' another voice shouted.
    I narrowed my eyes: the other two figures were my master and Doctor Agrippa.
    'Release him!' Agrippa repeated, coming up towards the cart. 'I bear a pardon from the King himself.'
    Well, that was too much for old Shallot. I fell into a dead swoon. I awoke lying on clean sheets in the Fleur de Lys tavern, just opposite St Sepulchre's. Agrippa sat on one side of the bed, my master, looking more swarthy than ever, sat on the other smiling down at me. 'Welcome home,' I murmured. ‘I am sorry.'
    Benjamin just leaned over and pushed a cup of wine between my lips. 'Drink, Roger,' he urged. 'Drink and rest.'
    I did so. I remember the sunlight coming through the window. I fell asleep again and when I awoke it was dark but I felt refreshed and as hungry as a wolf. Agrippa was standing by the window, and my master was