The Burgundian's tale

I thought this over. ‘But those three houses at the end of the Strand,’ I pointed out, ‘are considered to have been a part of the original palace; therefore, if this tale were true, the treasure — if it exists at all — is unlikely to be buried underneath them … Do you believe this story?’ I asked the boy.

My namesake grimaced. ‘Naw! There are tales like this un by the dozen about almost every part o’ London. The streets are paved with gold, we tell strangers. Just dig a bit an’ you’ll find it. Meantime, buy my nice new shiny spade. Or, better still, this old un that’s cost me nothing, ’cause it belonged to my great-great-grandfather.’

A cynic at twelve years old! My heart warmed to him in spite of his unprepossessing appearance and smell.

‘And what did Fulk Quantrell say when you asked him if he believed this story?’

‘Said ’e hadn’t ’eard it. What was it about? So I told ’im, like I’ve just told you.’

‘Did you believe him?’

Young Roger, who, until now, had been perched on the empty frame of the bed, shifted and slid down the curve of the mattress to sit cross-legged on the floor.

‘Well … that’s the funny thing. When ’e said ’e’d never ’eard the tale, yes, I did believe ’im. But later that visit, just as ’e was going, ’e laughed and said something like, “There’s plenty of treasure buried in the Strand if you know where to look for it. I’ve been hopin’ you’d tell me where it can be found. But seems like you don’t know.” Then ’e laughed again and added, “But I don’t really need it. I can make my fortune without.” ’E went away and that was the last time I saw ’im. Next thing I ’eard, he was dead. Been found murdered in Faitour Lane.’ After a pause, Roger asked eagerly, ‘Anythin’ else you want t’ know?’ He glanced at the coins in his hand and jingled them suggestively.

‘I’m not a rich man,’ I protested. Nevertheless, I dipped into my purse and doled out a couple more groats. ‘You haven’t yet explained exactly why you ran away from Mistress St Clair’s. What made you think someone was trying to kill you? And who do you think it was?’

‘I don’t know who it was,’ was the disappointing response. ‘But I do know that I had some very peculiar accidents in that house.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, once, I was by myself at the bottom of the garden, plantin’ some cress seeds along the water’s edge, like Paulina Graygoss told me. I ’ad me back to the ’ouse and wasn’t thinkin’ about nothing but what I was doing, when suddenly, I toppled into the river. I swear to you, chapman, that someone pushed me, but when I came to the surface, there was no one in sight. Everyone swore they was somewhere else at the time and said I must’ve slipped. But I didn’t. I know I didn’t. Somebody pushed me in. Luckily, I can swim like a fish. Then, another time, I’d to go down the cellar to bring up some o’ the master’s favourite wine. I’d a candle, o’ course, but I still didn’t see the wooden ball on the third or fourth step from the top. I went crashing to the bottom and was lucky not t’ break me fuckin’ neck. As it was, I was laid up the best part of a month.’

‘What sort of a ball?’ I queried.

‘A child’s ball. A painted thing Mistress Alcina used to play with when she was a child, or so Paulina Graygoss said. Said, too, she thought it was put away with all the other old toys in a chest in Alcina’s bedchamber, but that someone must’ve got it out, though goodness knows why. That’s what Paulina said. And there was the time I was terrible sick after eating me dinner. It was mutton stew, and no one else was ill. I reckon somethin’ ’ad been added to me bowl when I wasn’t lookin’.’

‘Whom did you suspect? Mistress Graygoss?’

‘Any of the women. Not Nell, but everyone else. They were all in and out the kitchen that day, I remember. The master and mistress were ’avin’ Master and Mistress Jolliffe and Master Brandon to supper, ’s I recall, and were out to impress. Mistress Alcina was quite sweet on Brandon Jolliffe in them days, though I ’ear she ain’t so much now. Wanted Master Quantrell. We ’ad a laugh about that, we did. But, as I say, all the women were in ’n’ out o’ the kitchen at some time or another that morning. And William Morgan. Any of ’em could’ve put somethin’ in me stew without me seeing.’

I was a little doubtful about this last instance; and in the first, whatever Roger thought, he could have slipped. But the incident with the child’s ball certainly appeared more sinister.

‘Did anything else happen after that?’ I asked.

He gave a scornful snort. ‘I didn’t wait t’ find out. I ran away and came ’ere, where I’ve been ever since. What’s more, I’m goin’ to stay ’ere. Now, mind! Don’t you go tellin’ anyone in that house you’ve seen me. Not even Nell.’

‘She’s worried about you. She’d like to know that you’re alive and well.’

‘Daresay,’ he replied unfeelingly, ‘but she ain’t one for holding her tongue. Never could keep a secret, couldn’t Nell.’