The Relic Murders

The corpse lay just within the door, covered by a dirty blanket. Kempe pulled this back.
    Henley had been no beauty in life. In death his fat face, with its popping eyes, half-open, slobbering lips and the angry red gash in his throat made him look grotesque. Agrippa, as if bored, went and sat on the bed, playing with a buckle on his belt. Kempe looked down at the corpse and turned away in disgust at the flies hovering over a pool of blood. I felt for the man's wallet but there was nothing there.
    'I didn't take it,' the landlord bleated from where he stood in the doorway.
    Of course the thieving magpie had, but he wasn't going to admit it to us, was he?
    Tell us what happened?' Benjamin straightened up. He pulled the landlord inside the chamber by his jerkin.
    The landlord wetted his lips, blinking as he considered whether to lie or not.
    'Tell us the truth,' Benjamin said, 'and you can keep what you took from him. His coins, his rings: I also see the knife sheath on his belt is empty. You could hang for such thefts.'
    'He arrived here just after Vespers,' the landlord replied in a rush. 'He hired a chamber, a jug of wine and two cups. A short while later a stranger entered the room.' "What did he look like?'
    'I am a busy man, not the parish constable,' the landlord whined. 'I saw a cowl and a hood: the lower half of his face was masked. His voice was gruff. He asked me where Henley was, and one of the scullions took him up. A short while later a message was sent down asking for a pure beeswax candle.' 'Pure beeswax?' Benjamin asked. 'Yes.'
    'But they had a candle in here already.' I pointed to the fat tallow sitting in its own grease in a small earthenware bowl.
    'Look, I own a tavern. Some people like tallow candles. Others don't. I made a good profit from selling beeswax, so I sent it up. Afterwards, one of the maids,' the fellow smirked, 'was serving one of the customers in the adjoining chamber. Anyway, she heard Henley laugh, a deep-throated bellow as if his companion had told him an amusing story. A short while later the stranger left. We thought Henley was staying for the evening and that's all I know.' 'Where's the beeswax candle now?' Benjamin asked. The landlord sighed, hurried off and came back with it.
    'Where did you find this?' Benjamin asked, taking the candle and scrutinising it carefully. 'It's hardly been used.'
    ‘I know that,' the landlord replied. 'It was just left lying on the table and that,' he added flatly, 'is all I do know. I have a tavern to run.' He gestured down. 'What about the corpse?' 'Do you have a wheelbarrow?' Kempe asked. 'Yes.'
    'Pay the archer a penny,' Kempe declared. 'Some of the profits you stole from Henley's purse. Have the body taken to Greyfriars. The good brothers will bury his corpse in a pauper's grave.'

Chapter 8
    We went downstairs into the street. Kempe muttered about continuing his searches for Hubert Berkeley, and Benjamin grasped him by the arm.
    'Where did Henley live? You must know,' he added, 'if you were keeping a watch on his ilk?'
    'Nearby.' Kempe withdrew his arm. 'That's right, in Old Jewry. Skinner's Lane, opposite the hospital of St Thomas of Acorn. Why?' Kempe's eyes slid to me. 'Are you thinking of augmenting your relic collection? And what was all that business about the candle?' Benjamin shook his head. 'I was just intrigued.'
    'And so will the King be,' Kempe added, hitching his fur robe round his shoulders.
    His eyes strayed over my shoulder. I glanced round and saw two well-armed bullyboys standing in the mouth of the alleyway. Men like Kempe didn't go anywhere unless they were protected.
    'I really must be going,' he insisted. 'It is important that we find Berkeley.' He prodded me in the chest. 'But meanwhile, what about this business of Lord Charon?'
    'We also need to take counsel with His Eminence,' Agrippa said, coming out of the tavern. He smiled apologetically and wiped his lips on the back of his glove. 'They say a good ale is strong and clear. I, too, Master Daunbey, was thinking about candles. But, as Sir Thomas says, Berkeley has to be found and counsel has to be taken.' He winked at both of us. 'The court has moved to Sheen. I shall go there. Sir Thomas has Berkeley to find. Where were you when Charon,' he added, turning to me, 'first met you?' 'At the Flickering Lamp tavern,' I replied.
    'Go back there,' Agrippa ordered. 'Sir Thomas and I will meet you later on.'
    Agrippa collected his horse from the stable and nonchalantly rode