Read Online The Gallows Murders by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online
Authors: Paul Doherty
Tags: Historical Novel
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Benjamin declared, putting his cup down. ‘We are to go to the Tower, Roger, then on to meet the King at Windsor.'
I stared round that peaceful, perfume-filled garden. 'I can't stay here,' I murmured, ‘but I don't want to go to Windsor.'
Benjamin opened his wallet: he drew out a writ, sealed with the Cardinal's own signet. I read it quickly. I had no choice: Benjamin Daunbey, the Cardinal's beloved nephew, and his manservant Roger Shallot, on their allegiance to the King, were to go in all haste to the royal castle of Windsor. I threw the letter back. On reflection the death-cart, the sweating sickness and those terrible burial pits didn't seem so dreadful! If Wolsey wanted me, then I was about to enter the House of Shadows! Murder and treachery would be my guides.
I quickly packed my belongings and bade a fond farewell to Prior Houghton and his kindly brothers. I never saw Houghton again. Years later, when Fat Henry broke with Rome over dark-eyed Boleyn, Houghton, true to his own soul, refused to take the Oath of Supremacy. I was out of the country at the time, the unwilling guest of the Spanish Inquisition (splendid gentlemen!). I returned to learn that Houghton and some of his Brothers had been hanged over their own gatehouse: I sat in the darkness and wept. He was a good man. He deserved a better death ...
Agrippa, Benjamin and I left, keeping well away from the city. We walked by Gray's Inn, skirting the Temple and Whitefriars to a barge waiting to take us up-river to the Tower. The oarsmen were all the good doctor's henchmen, a bigger group of flea-bags you never hope to meet. Cut-throats, rascals, scum of the earth! As usual they greeted me like a long-lost brother. I was glad of the rapturous welcome because, as we walked the hot, musty streets, both Agrippa and Benjamin had become strangely silent. Even when I told them about Quicksilver: raving against his perfidy, threatening to hunt him down, they just shook their heads, lost in their own thoughts. At first I thought they were frightened but, as the barge moved mid-stream, Agrippa's rascals pulling at the oars, the good doctor stirred. He pointed to each bank.
'How time goes!' he muttered softly. 'You know, Roger, I remember Claudius's legions trying to ford this river, when London was nothing more than mud-flats and wide stretches of moorland.'
I looked at him strangely. Now and again Agrippa would make these slips and talk about events which had happened hundreds of years ago as if they had occurred that morning.
They paid for it, mind you,' he continued. The river ran red with blood. The mud-banks further down were piled high with corpses, like faggots in a woodshed.' He put on his hat again and looked at me from under his brows. 'It will be scarlet once again!’ he declared, and pointed to the poles jutting out from London Bridge where the rooks and ravens fought over the severed heads of traitors. 'A time will come when all the horrors will appear.'
'Might it now?' Benjamin observed drily.
‘Why, what's the matter?' I asked.
'Show him, Dr Agrippa.'
Agrippa fished in his pouch and drew out a small scroll of white parchment. 'Read that, Roger.'
I undid the scarlet ribbon and stared curiously at the blue-green writing inscribed in an elegant hand. The first words made me laugh.
To Henry Tudor calling himself King. I, Edward, by the grace of God King of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, do denounce thee as a traitor, a usurper and the son of a usurper, who seized my father's Crown and Sceptre.'
I looked up. 'What is this?' I exclaimed. 'Read on.'
‘Now we know,' the letter continued, 'and it is a matter of public knowledge how your usurpation has been punished by God. What you possess will not be passed on to a son. We deem this punishment enough. We are content to bide our time and wait for God's intervention. However, until then, our royal estate must be maintained. What you hold, you do as steward for us. I therefore demand that a thousand
I stared round that peaceful, perfume-filled garden. 'I can't stay here,' I murmured, ‘but I don't want to go to Windsor.'
Benjamin opened his wallet: he drew out a writ, sealed with the Cardinal's own signet. I read it quickly. I had no choice: Benjamin Daunbey, the Cardinal's beloved nephew, and his manservant Roger Shallot, on their allegiance to the King, were to go in all haste to the royal castle of Windsor. I threw the letter back. On reflection the death-cart, the sweating sickness and those terrible burial pits didn't seem so dreadful! If Wolsey wanted me, then I was about to enter the House of Shadows! Murder and treachery would be my guides.
I quickly packed my belongings and bade a fond farewell to Prior Houghton and his kindly brothers. I never saw Houghton again. Years later, when Fat Henry broke with Rome over dark-eyed Boleyn, Houghton, true to his own soul, refused to take the Oath of Supremacy. I was out of the country at the time, the unwilling guest of the Spanish Inquisition (splendid gentlemen!). I returned to learn that Houghton and some of his Brothers had been hanged over their own gatehouse: I sat in the darkness and wept. He was a good man. He deserved a better death ...
Agrippa, Benjamin and I left, keeping well away from the city. We walked by Gray's Inn, skirting the Temple and Whitefriars to a barge waiting to take us up-river to the Tower. The oarsmen were all the good doctor's henchmen, a bigger group of flea-bags you never hope to meet. Cut-throats, rascals, scum of the earth! As usual they greeted me like a long-lost brother. I was glad of the rapturous welcome because, as we walked the hot, musty streets, both Agrippa and Benjamin had become strangely silent. Even when I told them about Quicksilver: raving against his perfidy, threatening to hunt him down, they just shook their heads, lost in their own thoughts. At first I thought they were frightened but, as the barge moved mid-stream, Agrippa's rascals pulling at the oars, the good doctor stirred. He pointed to each bank.
'How time goes!' he muttered softly. 'You know, Roger, I remember Claudius's legions trying to ford this river, when London was nothing more than mud-flats and wide stretches of moorland.'
I looked at him strangely. Now and again Agrippa would make these slips and talk about events which had happened hundreds of years ago as if they had occurred that morning.
They paid for it, mind you,' he continued. The river ran red with blood. The mud-banks further down were piled high with corpses, like faggots in a woodshed.' He put on his hat again and looked at me from under his brows. 'It will be scarlet once again!’ he declared, and pointed to the poles jutting out from London Bridge where the rooks and ravens fought over the severed heads of traitors. 'A time will come when all the horrors will appear.'
'Might it now?' Benjamin observed drily.
‘Why, what's the matter?' I asked.
'Show him, Dr Agrippa.'
Agrippa fished in his pouch and drew out a small scroll of white parchment. 'Read that, Roger.'
I undid the scarlet ribbon and stared curiously at the blue-green writing inscribed in an elegant hand. The first words made me laugh.
To Henry Tudor calling himself King. I, Edward, by the grace of God King of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, do denounce thee as a traitor, a usurper and the son of a usurper, who seized my father's Crown and Sceptre.'
I looked up. 'What is this?' I exclaimed. 'Read on.'
‘Now we know,' the letter continued, 'and it is a matter of public knowledge how your usurpation has been punished by God. What you possess will not be passed on to a son. We deem this punishment enough. We are content to bide our time and wait for God's intervention. However, until then, our royal estate must be maintained. What you hold, you do as steward for us. I therefore demand that a thousand
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