'Why should Kempe want information?'
'I don't know,' Cornelius replied. 'But if Sir Thomas Kempe is going to watch us, I assure you, we will watch him.'
And, patting Benjamin on the shoulder, Cornelius went out to where Lord Egremont waited.
'You never told me about that?' I said, pointing to the quiver.
Benjamin put it back in the chest.
'It's one of the first things I noticed. What intrigued me about all this, Roger, is that there was no sign of a struggle, so a half-empty quiver soon caught my attention.'
'What is Kempe up to?' I asked.
'That,' Benjamin replied, 'like the rest of the mystery, remains to be seen.'
'What are you whispering about?' Kempe stood in the doorway.
'About the subtleties of life,' Benjamin replied enigmatically. 'Sir Thomas, this relic-seller?'
'His corpse is still at the Rose and Crown,' Kempe replied. 'We would like to see it.'
'And see it you shall.' Agrippa came out into the hallway, hat on his head, eyes twinkling.
I went and opened the door, to see that Egremont, Cornelius and their entourage were now sweeping through the gatehouse.
'What has happened to Lady Isabella's remains?' I asked.
'The Friar Minoresses at St Mary of Bethlehem have agreed to inter her remains,' Kempe replied. 'The archers and Noctales are to be buried in Charterhouse. The King has agreed to give grants to their relatives.'
'And the Orb?' I asked. 'The replica?'
'Safely stowed away,' Kempe replied.
I stared at this most secret servant of the King's. Why should one of his archers send messages to him? Was he involved in this knavery? Was the Great Beast's rage genuine? But if Kempe had stolen the Orb, to whom would he sell it? Some merchant who would pay a fortune to have it hidden in his vaults? Or some foreign power? The French? Or even the Papacy?
'You mentioned Sir Hubert Berkeley?' Benjamin declared. 'You said he was missing?'
'Left his home last night,' Kempe replied. 'Slipped out through an alleyway. He told no one where he was going or when he would be back. By dawn this morning his master journeyman, alarmed at his master's prolonged absence, sent word to the court.'
'Could he be involved in this mischief?' I asked.
'God knows,' Benjamin replied before Kempe could. 'But, come, let's view the mortal remains of Walter Henley.'
We gathered our horses. Benjamin himself locked up the manor and the gates. Kempe promised he would send some of the men to guard it as well as our few paltry possessions stowed away in the gatehouse. Castor also stayed, and I promised him that I would return with some sweetmeats. The dog just looked mournfully at me as I locked him in our room before going down to join the rest. Kempe informed us the Rose and Crown was just opposite the Priory of St Helen's, within sight of Cripplegate.
Benjamin, however, insisted on taking a detour and we stopped for a while at Master Oswald's cookshop. Benjamin threw the reins of his horse at me and went inside. It looked a cheerful, busy place, the ground floor of a three-storey house. The smells made my mouth water; I was tired of the dried meat and rather stale food at Malevel, so I went inside and bought a pie from a tray held by a boy. The crust was golden, carefully sculpted, and the meat was fresh and sweet. As I ate, a memory was jogged but I couldn't place it. I looked down towards the back of the shop, past the tables where customers sat on overturned barrels or hogsheads, to where Benjamin was busily talking to Oswald and Imelda. He was asking them questions, They replied quickly. After a while Benjamin shook their hands and came back to join me.
'Well, master?'
'One thing I have established, Roger. On the night all those men were killed, our good cooks roasted some meat and set the table. They are certain that Jonathan did not order the soldiers to clean up after the evening meal, which is strange, isn't it? Because, on the night they were all massacred, someone cleaned up the kitchen and removed all traces of the food and drink?' 'You mean the assassins?'
'Possibly.' Benjamin grimaced. 'But, there again, it may have been a mere coincidence. Imelda did say Jonathan was complaining about mice and the need to keep the kitchen clean.'
'Then you have an answer,' I replied.
'Of sorts,' Benjamin declared. 'But we'll see, we'll see.'
We went out to join the other two. Kempe was waiting impatiently but Agrippa looked as if he was half asleep. When we had first arrived in the city, the market stalls were only just opening but now the crowds were milling about. I was glad to be out of Malevel Manor with its corpses, bloody mysteries and moonlit galleries. We had to dismount and walk our horses, and I fell behind watching a group of Lacrymosi. These belonged to a strange cult, men as well as women, who shaved the top part of their heads, painted their faces red and dressed from head to toe in brown serge cloth tied round the middle by a cord. They carried staves in one hand and Ave beads in the other: before Henry struck against Rome, they could often be seen in the great cities from Dover to Berwick. Their leader always bore a cross and they got their names because they were constantly crying -shrieking would be the more accurate description. They would throw their hands up in the air, mournfully exclaiming about their sins and those of others. This group of about sixteen helped the tears along by hitting each other with knotted ropes. An amusing set of noddle pates! Behind them a blind boy, his eyes covered in patches, beat on a drum whilst beside him two little girls, obviously the daughters of one of the Lacrymosi, held out begging bowls towards the crowds. I watched them pass. Benjamin called at me to keep up, and as I hurried to do so, I saw a shift in the crowd. Cerberus, Charon's dog-faced lieutenant, stood glaring at me. Apparently, Lord Charon had not forgotten me and, once again, I wondered if those deaths at Malevel Manor were his work.