Read Online A Murder on London Bridge by Susanna Gregory - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susanna Gregory
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Blue Dick’s stabbing?
‘Where do you think you are going?’ demanded the Earl, before Chaloner could take more than two or three steps towards the door. ‘I have not said you can go.’
Chaloner regarded him in confusion. ‘I thought you wanted me to find Blue Dick’s killer. And listen to rumours about what the Dowager might be planning for Shrove Tuesday.’
The Earl looked annoyed. ‘I do, but you will escort me to the Presence Chamber first. Leigh has gone to Piccadilly to solve a problem with my new house, and it would not do for me to arrive unescorted. And I can hardly ask Bulteel, who does not know one end of a sword from another. You must do the honour.’
As the crow flew, it was not far to the King’s Presence Chamber from the Earl’s offices – just a few rooms away, and on the same floor. But White Hall was a contrary place, and Chaloner and Clarendon were obliged to walk down the stairs, across the chilly, windblown expanse of His Majesty’s private gardens, then climb the grand steps that led to the Privy Gallery. This was a long hall that was always full of people who wanted an audience with His Majesty, although, given the ‘early’ hour, it was not as crowded as it would be during the late afternoon and evening. The King’s Presence Chamber lay at the far end.
Chaloner did not enjoy walking the length of the Privy Gallery with the Earl at his side. The Earl was hated by the younger members of Court, because he frowned on any activities they deemed to be fun – their wild revelries, lewd plays, duels and debauchery. They glowered at him as he passed, and the only person who smiled was the Bishop of Hereford, with whom the Earl shared some inflexible views on religion.
‘Do not worry, Chaloner,’ whispered the Earl. ‘I am used to this sort of thing, and it no longer bothers me.’
It bothered Chaloner, though. He had known his employer was not the best loved member of Court, but was appalled by how brazen the antipathy had become. He wondered how much longer the Earl would be able to cling to power, especially if the King decided he had had enough of his first minister’s prim ways and nagging tongue. And then what would happen to Chaloner himself?
Eventually, the Earl stopped outside a door, and indicated that the man on duty was to open it. Chaloner was surprised to recognise the guard as someone who had been in the Dowager’s mansion the previous night – one of the four brothers who were thought to be courting her. He was a burly fellow with a wind-burned face, and his clothes were new enough to look stiff and uncomfortable. He was older than Chaloner, with wisps of grey hair poking from beneath his wig.
‘What do you want?’ the fellow demanded. ‘Stand back at once! Both of you.’
‘The Lord Chancellor has an audience with the King,’ said Chaloner curtly, somewhat taken aback by the impudent greeting. ‘Let him pass.’
‘The King is not ready for him.’ Suddenly, the Privy Gallery was silent as everyone stopped talking to listen, and the man’s three kinsmen appeared from nowhere to stand encouragingly at his side. ‘I have been charged to protect His Majesty’s privacy, and that is what I intend to do.’
‘And who are you, pray?’ demanded the Earl, looking him up and down with unconcealed disdain. The man bristled, and Chaloner saw the Earl had just added someone else to his already impressive list of enemies.
‘I am Rupert Penderel,’ replied the man. He nodded to the fellows at his side. ‘And these are my brothers Oliver, Neville and Edward. We are newly appointed Yeomen of the Presence Chamber.’
‘Penderel,’ mused the Earl, while Chaloner thought that here was a title which did not exist – the Penderels had been fobbed off with an office that held no legitimate standing. Of course, given that all four carried swords and looked as though they were ready to use them, legal niceties were hardly relevant. ‘In the last civil war, five
‘Where do you think you are going?’ demanded the Earl, before Chaloner could take more than two or three steps towards the door. ‘I have not said you can go.’
Chaloner regarded him in confusion. ‘I thought you wanted me to find Blue Dick’s killer. And listen to rumours about what the Dowager might be planning for Shrove Tuesday.’
The Earl looked annoyed. ‘I do, but you will escort me to the Presence Chamber first. Leigh has gone to Piccadilly to solve a problem with my new house, and it would not do for me to arrive unescorted. And I can hardly ask Bulteel, who does not know one end of a sword from another. You must do the honour.’
As the crow flew, it was not far to the King’s Presence Chamber from the Earl’s offices – just a few rooms away, and on the same floor. But White Hall was a contrary place, and Chaloner and Clarendon were obliged to walk down the stairs, across the chilly, windblown expanse of His Majesty’s private gardens, then climb the grand steps that led to the Privy Gallery. This was a long hall that was always full of people who wanted an audience with His Majesty, although, given the ‘early’ hour, it was not as crowded as it would be during the late afternoon and evening. The King’s Presence Chamber lay at the far end.
Chaloner did not enjoy walking the length of the Privy Gallery with the Earl at his side. The Earl was hated by the younger members of Court, because he frowned on any activities they deemed to be fun – their wild revelries, lewd plays, duels and debauchery. They glowered at him as he passed, and the only person who smiled was the Bishop of Hereford, with whom the Earl shared some inflexible views on religion.
‘Do not worry, Chaloner,’ whispered the Earl. ‘I am used to this sort of thing, and it no longer bothers me.’
It bothered Chaloner, though. He had known his employer was not the best loved member of Court, but was appalled by how brazen the antipathy had become. He wondered how much longer the Earl would be able to cling to power, especially if the King decided he had had enough of his first minister’s prim ways and nagging tongue. And then what would happen to Chaloner himself?
Eventually, the Earl stopped outside a door, and indicated that the man on duty was to open it. Chaloner was surprised to recognise the guard as someone who had been in the Dowager’s mansion the previous night – one of the four brothers who were thought to be courting her. He was a burly fellow with a wind-burned face, and his clothes were new enough to look stiff and uncomfortable. He was older than Chaloner, with wisps of grey hair poking from beneath his wig.
‘What do you want?’ the fellow demanded. ‘Stand back at once! Both of you.’
‘The Lord Chancellor has an audience with the King,’ said Chaloner curtly, somewhat taken aback by the impudent greeting. ‘Let him pass.’
‘The King is not ready for him.’ Suddenly, the Privy Gallery was silent as everyone stopped talking to listen, and the man’s three kinsmen appeared from nowhere to stand encouragingly at his side. ‘I have been charged to protect His Majesty’s privacy, and that is what I intend to do.’
‘And who are you, pray?’ demanded the Earl, looking him up and down with unconcealed disdain. The man bristled, and Chaloner saw the Earl had just added someone else to his already impressive list of enemies.
‘I am Rupert Penderel,’ replied the man. He nodded to the fellows at his side. ‘And these are my brothers Oliver, Neville and Edward. We are newly appointed Yeomen of the Presence Chamber.’
‘Penderel,’ mused the Earl, while Chaloner thought that here was a title which did not exist – the Penderels had been fobbed off with an office that held no legitimate standing. Of course, given that all four carried swords and looked as though they were ready to use them, legal niceties were hardly relevant. ‘In the last civil war, five