The Grail Murders(12)

Agrippa leaned forward and squeezed my hand. 'Shallot, Shallot!' he murmured. "There may be a slight cast in your eye'— and in truth there was, an affliction since birth — 'but beneath that cunning face a subtle wit thrives and grows. The Lord Cardinal will be pleased.'



'Oh,' I mocked, 'my happiness is now complete. And what about this treachery and bloody murder?'



'In a while,' Agrippa smirked. 'Give the shadows more time to gather.'





Chapter 3



We left The Golden Turk and went down to the riverside. The day was beginning to fade as the barge we hired pulled to mid-stream and took us downriver to Richmond Palace. Benjamin crouched in the bows, rather dull and listless. Agrippa, pleased and contented with himself, kept leaning over and tapping me on the hand for my perspicacity in dealing with Hopkins's riddle.



The oarsmen swept round the bend of the Thames and down past Westminster. The quayside was obscured by the different ships moored there: carracks from Venice, fat sturdy cogs from the Baltic, and fishing smacks getting ready for a night's work. A pleasant enough sight for a trip down the river on a late-autumn evening.



Agrippa, basking in the calmness of the scene, smiled reassuringly at us. Believe me, if I'd known then what lay ahead - mysterious fires, the severed hand of glory, a haunted chapel, witch's curses and decapitated heads dripping blood - I would have slipped over the side of that wherry and swam for dear life to the nearest shore.



My master, however, had more immediate concerns. He looked sleepily back at the disappearing turrets of Westminster Abbey and shook himself alert.



'Why?' he asked abruptly.

'Why what?' Agrippa retorted.



'Why did we have to witness that execution? And was it necessary for us to see Hopkins stretched out on that rack?'



Such thoughts had occurred to me so I stared curiously at Agrippa. He chewed on his lip as he tore his gaze away from the bank. The colour had returned to his eyes. Now they looked dark blue rather than that clear, glass-like appearance they always assumed when Agrippa witnessed any violence or bloodshed.

'In a few days,' the good doctor whispered, 'we will know all. But I tell you this: Buckingham, albeit a fool, died an innocent man.'



I stared at him in amazement.



'Oh, yes,' Agrippa continued. 'He may have been a secret Templar. He may even have been searching for the Grail and Arthur's Sword. But, according to Hopkins, that's all Buckingham was interested in.'



'So what proof of treason did the King produce at Buckingham's trial?'



'The testimony of Taplow, Buckingham's agent in London. Mind you,' Agrippa peered into the gathering mist, 'Buckingham is not the only one to lose his life over this matter.' He looked squarely at Benjamin. 'Did you know Calcraft?'



'A little.'



'Well, he was one of Mandeville's most trusted agents: a good man, a subtle scurrier who could worm out secrets and trap those plotting against the crown.'

'Yes, yes, I know,' Benjamin replied, 'I met Master Calcraft on one occasion. He had a face as sour as wormwood and was skilled in putting treasonable words into other men's mouths. Why, what mischief is he up to now?'



'Probably dancing with the devil,' Agrippa replied with a smile. 'Calcraft's dead! He was garrotted only a stone's throw from Richmond.'

'So these secret Templars may be striking back against Mandeville's men?'



'Perhaps. Calcraft was instrumental in sending Buckingham to the block. Anyway, he's gone.'



'Which is why dear Uncle sent for us?'



'Of course; Mandeville still has another agent, Warnham, investigating Buckingham's cover but Uncle wants you!'



'And our attendance at Buckingham's execution was to concentrate our minds.'

Agrippa smiled and nodded. 'The Lord Cardinal knows human nature well,' he replied. 'Master Benjamin, you have been lost in the calm and peace of Ipswich. Buckingham's death was a fitting prelude to the horrors which may await.'



Benjamin leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes whilst Agrippa diverted the conversation to the gossip and petty scandals of the court.



We arrived at Richmond just before dusk. A strange place even though it was relatively new, being rebuilt by the Great Mister, Fat Harry's father in 1490, Richmond was really a series of towers and halls built round a number of courtyards, each containing small orchards or gardens. The walls were covered with trellises of roses, red and white mixed together, to remind everyone that the Tudors united what was best in both the houses of York and Lancaster. The brickwork was ornamented with carvings and strange markings, gargoyles and statues, and each tower was capped by a large onion-shaped cupola. From the highest of these flew the banners of England and the pennants of Wolsey, proclaiming that both the King and his principal minister were now in residence.