The Burgundian's tale

I could tell that this time he was determined to leave and that nothing I could do, short of brute force, would detain him further. He had seen quicksands ahead of him and was anxious to avoid them if he could.

‘You said you thought your son would be willing to speak to me, sir. If he’s still in the parlour, would you ask him to come up?’ I added in my most authoritative voice, ‘Their Graces the Duke of Gloucester and the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy are hoping for a speedy resolution to this enquiry.’

‘Yes … Yes, I see … All right! If he hasn’t gone out, I’ll send Jocelyn up to you.’ And Godfrey, only pausing to give another twitch to the jar of flowers, whose position in the niche appeared to offend his ideas of symmetry, left the room.

I put another log on the fire. Outside, it was still overcast and raining.

‘Well?’ Bertram asked. ‘What do you think?’

‘What about?’

‘Master St Clair. Could he have killed this Fulk Quantrell, do you think? He’d like his son to marry Mistress Threadgold, that’s plain.’

I shrugged. ‘He could have done. But in order to murder Fulk, he must have been following him. Now, Godfrey could have left the house and re-entered it without anyone seeing him, I grant you. But so could anyone in this house, thanks to this so-called secret stair. The murderer would only have had to ensure that the door in Mistress St Clair’s bedchamber was unbolted on the inside — and that wouldn’t have been difficult, seeing she was drugged with lettuce and poppy juice — and, similarly, have left an outside door in the kitchen passage unlocked — that’s presuming, of course, that there is one — and there you are! But we’ve a long way to go yet, my lad, so don’t go jumping to any conclusions.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Bertram protested, offended. ‘I was just trying to clear my head. I’m not that much of a fool.’

I grinned. ‘Of course you’re not. But the question bothering me at present is: was it William Morgan who attacked me last night? And if so, why? Two questions.’

Bertram gave a low whistle. ‘Do you really think it might have been him?’

‘He’s Welsh. And although I couldn’t swear to it, I thought I recognized his voice. Moreover, he’s about the right height and size. But having said all that, I wouldn’t be absolutely positive he was the man. Maybe when I speak to him, perhaps I shall be able to make up my mind.’

The door to the winter parlour opened again and Jocelyn St Clair appeared.

‘My father says you want to see me, chapman. If so, make it brief. I’ve an appointment with a cordwainer in Watling Street about a new pair of riding boots, and I promised I’d be there before dinner time. What do you want to know?’

He threw himself into the armchair and looked at me down that hawk-like nose of his. The blue eyes were half-closed, indicating boredom, but I noticed a nervous tic at one corner of his long, thin mouth. He was not as indifferent to this interview as he wished to make out.

‘Tell me about Fulk Quantrell,’ I said.

Jocelyn gave a harsh laugh. ‘He was arrogant, conceited and he got what was coming to him. But,’ he added hastily, ‘I didn’t kill him. I wouldn’t have soiled my hands.’

‘You didn’t like him?’

Jocelyn gave another laugh that grated on my ears as much as the first. ‘What an intellect! Does the Duke of Gloucester know what he’s paying for?’

‘His Grace doesn’t pay me,’ I answered quietly.

‘Just as well for him, then,’ retorted this objectionable youth. ‘No, I didn’t like Fulk Quantrell. And he didn’t like me. Although that’s not quite right. He was contemptuous of me, just as he was of Brandon. Just as he was of everybody! But, naturally, he didn’t let everyone know it, only those who didn’t matter to him. To my stepmother, to Alcina, to Lydia Jolliffe, he dissembled until he’d got what he wanted.’

‘And that was?’

He gave another insolent smile. I noticed he had very small, even white teeth. ‘Oh, come on! You can’t be as stupid as you pretend to be!’

‘Just answer me,’ I said, keeping my temper in check.

‘Well, what do you think he wanted? He wanted my stepmother’s money: to be her heir. He wanted to get in between the sheets with Lydia Jolliffe. She’s very attractive, if you have a fancy for the maturer woman, which I must admit I don’t. I like ’em young.’ Again he bared those small, predatory teeth and winked. ‘More juice.’

I was beginning to dislike young Master St Clair very much indeed. ‘And Alcina? What did he want from her? Not marriage, it would seem. At least, not according to Lionel and Mistress Broderer.’

‘No. I never thought he did. He just wanted to take her away from Brandon. To prove his superiority. To prove his power over women. Once he’d done that, he had no more use for her. I tried to warn Cina, but she wouldn’t listen. She was as besotted by him as my stepmother and that silly old fool of a housekeeper.’

‘Mistress Graygoss liked him, too, did she?’

‘All the women thought the sun shone out of his arse.’

‘You speak with some bitterness. How had Master Quantrell offended you?’