I ran to the edge but the current was strong. I could see no sign of either of them and I turned to defend myself as a villain, blood streaming from his mouth, lurched at me. Benjamin caught him midway with a cutting slash to the neck and the fellow fell, tumbling sideways into the water. Now, I have been in bloody struggles, I have watched the most horrible of battles. I have seen Mars in all its terrors, thankfully from some safe vantage point, yet that struggle in the sewers of London is one of the most memorable. A recurring nightmare. You see, Charon's men had no illusions. This was no honourable chivalrous fight where prisoners could be taken, ransoms obtained. These were bullyboys, the scum and the filth of the city who lived off the fat of the land with a deep-seated hatred for all authority. They asked for no quarter and none was given. I crouched in the shadows and watched. Benjamin moved effortlessly: a swordsman, he stood with his back to the wall and took on all comers. Cornelius moved beside him, a thin silent, deadly killer with his broad stabbing sword and thin Italian stiletto. A man born to kill. Lord Egremont and Kempe swirled by me. Kempe shouting orders, trying to stop the villains fleeing into the darkness whilst Egremont, and you can always tell from a man's face when he likes blood and dotes on killing, was in his element.
At last the fighting subsided. Most of Charon's men were dead but Cerberus and at least a score of others were alive or nearly so: their hands were bound, and soldiers and archers were pushing them away. Egremont, Cornelius, Benjamin and myself went into Charon's cavern. Lord Egremont took the corpse from its seat at the table and, dragging it to the waterside, threw it in without a by your leave. He then cleared the table with his sword and sat down smiling, like a man who has done a good day's work.
'Your men are collecting the treasure?'
'We have clerks,' Kempe replied, wiping the sweat from his face. 'Everything will be collected and sealed.'
Benjamin got up and. despite Kempe's protests, walked out. I followed. The caverns were now thronged with soldiers and clerks of the Exchequer. That's one thing about the English, they love good administration and Henry's Exchequer officials were the best there were. Years later I'd see them sweep into a monastery like Charterhouse or the great Abbey of Bury St Edmunds and, in a day, everything that could be moved was bagged, casked and sealed. They would scramble like ants round Lord Charon's treasure trove and sniff out gold like a mouse would cheese. Benjamin watched them, ignoring Kempe's protests to return. He then moved amongst them, asking if they had seen the Orb or any special relic? The clerks just shook their heads. I went and stood by the fast-running sewer, one of London's underground rivers, staring into the darkness. I half expected to see that stupid dog with its great flapping ears and lolling tongue but he was gone.
Benjamin came up beside me and put a hand on my shoulder.
'He's dead, Roger. Charon struck him a number of blows.'
'He was a good friend, master,' I replied. This time my tears were genuine, silent, just running down my face. 'He was a stupid dog. All fierce and loyal but with a heart as soft as honey.'
Benjamin embraced me. 'In which case, Roger, you had a lot in common.' He stood away. 'Castor saved you. When you failed to return to the tavern, I went out into the street. A beggar boy noticed you go into the church of the Crutched Friars but never come out. None of Kempe's men had seen anything untoward so I took Castor there. He immediately picked up your scent.'
'But I was carried,' I replied. I looked down at my boots, the tips were all scuffed.
'You were dragged but not far,' Benjamin replied. 'Castor was a hunting dog. In the cemetery behind the church, there's an entrance to the sewers beneath a grave stone. Kempe collected his men. Egremont and Cornelius were present when the messenger arrived and they insisted on coming too.'
'You won't find the Orb down here,' I replied, wiping my eyes. 'Lord Charon, may God send him good judgement, said he had already sold it but, to whom, I don't know.'
'You are sure of that?'
'As sure as I am of standing here.'
'Someone like Charon,' Benjamin mused, 'would insist on being paid in gold or silver. Wait there, Roger.'
He walked away, talking amongst the clerks opening casks and chests. I stood staring at the water, ignoring the chaos and confusion around me. Benjamin came back.
'The King is going to be a very contented man. Charon's treasure is a veritable hoard.'
He linked his arm through mine and we walked further away from the clerks who were now dragging the casks and sacks out.
'We know the French envoys have left London,' Benjamin continued. 'If they bought the Orb they'd have paid in their own coin, Lord Charon would have insisted on it. However, apart from a few pieces, there's no sign of any French gold or silver. Nevertheless, one of the clerks told me that there's a casket full of gold, which looks new, as if Charon had just taken possession of it. It's not English, it's not French or German, but the best silver and gold from the mints of Italy.'