Read Online The House of the Red Slayer by Paul C. Doherty - Free Book Online
Authors: Paul C. Doherty
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loyal, and if trouble comes, I shall hold the Tower to my dying breath!‘
Cranston grinned and tapped him gently on the chest. ‘Now, my good lieutenant, you have it We think the same on this. Sir Ralph’s death may be linked to the conspiracies which flourish like weeds in the villages and hamlets around London.’
Colebrooke nodded.‘ Whitton was a hard taskmaster,’ he replied, ‘and the Great Community’s paid assassin would have found such a task fairly easy to accomplish.’
Athelstan too smiled and patted Colebrooke on the shoulder. ‘You may be right, Master Colebrooke, but there is only one thing wrong with such a theory.‘
The lieutenant gazed dumbly back.
‘Can’t you see?’ Athelstan murmured. ‘Someone in the Tower must have told such an assassin where, when and how Sir Ralph could be found!‘
A now crestfallen lieutenant led them down the stairs. The two burly, thick-set guards still squatted with hands outstretched towards the fiery red brazier. They hardly moved as Colebrooke approached and Athelstan sensed their disdain for a junior officer suddenly thrust into authority.
‘You were on guard last night?’
The soldiers nodded.
‘You saw nothing untoward?’
Again the nods, accompanied by supercilious smiles as if they found Athelstan slightly amusing and rather boring.
‘Stand up!’ Cranston roared. ‘Stand up. You whorebegotten sons of bitches! By the sod, I’ve had better men tied to trees and whipped till their backs were red!‘
The two soldiers jumped up at the steely menace in Cranston’s voice.
‘That’s better,’ the coroner purred. ‘Now, my buckos, answer my clerk’s questions properly and all will be well.’ He grasped one by the shoulder. ‘Otherwise, I may put it about that in the dead of night you killed your master.’
‘That’s not true!’ the fellow grated. ‘We were loyal to Sir Ralph. We saw nothing, knew nothing, until the popinjay the guard shrugged ‘-the constable’s prospective son-in-law, comes rushing down, exclaiming he can’t rouse Sir Ralph. He grabs the key and is about to return, but the coward thinks better of it and sends for the lieutenant here.’
‘You heard him knock on the door and call Sir Ralph?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Of course we did.‘
‘But he did not enter?’
‘The key was down here,’ the guard replied, pointing to a peg driven into the wall. ‘It was hanging before our eyes. There were only two. One here, and Sir Ralph had the other.’
‘You are certain of that?’ Cranston asked.
‘Yes, yes,’ the fellow confirmed. ‘I found the other key on the table next to the constable’s bed as soon as I opened the door. I have it now.’
Cranston nodded. ‘Ah, well,’ he breathed, ‘enough is enough. Let us see the tower from the outside.‘
As they left the North Bastion, they suddenly heard an awesome din from the inner bailey. They followed the lieutenant as he hurried under the arch, staring across the snowcapped green. The noise came from a building in between the great hall and the White Tower. At first Athelstan couldn’t distinguish what was happening. He saw figures running about, dogs leaping and yelping in the snow. Colebrooke breathed deeply and relaxed.
‘It’s only him,’ he murmured. ‘Look!’
Athelstan and Cranston watched in stupefaction as a great brown shaggy-haired bear lurched into full view. The beast stood on its hind legs, its paws pummelling the air.
‘I have seen bears before,’ Cranston murmured, ‘roughhaired little beasts attacked by dogs, but nothing as majestic as that.’
The bear roared and Athelstan saw the great chains which swung from the iron collar round its neck, each held by a keeper as the lunatic Red Hand led the animal across the bailey to be fastened to a huge stake at the far side of the great hall.
‘It’s magnificent!‘ Athelstan murmured.
‘A present,’ the lieutenant replied, ‘from a Norwegian prince to the present king’s
Cranston grinned and tapped him gently on the chest. ‘Now, my good lieutenant, you have it We think the same on this. Sir Ralph’s death may be linked to the conspiracies which flourish like weeds in the villages and hamlets around London.’
Colebrooke nodded.‘ Whitton was a hard taskmaster,’ he replied, ‘and the Great Community’s paid assassin would have found such a task fairly easy to accomplish.’
Athelstan too smiled and patted Colebrooke on the shoulder. ‘You may be right, Master Colebrooke, but there is only one thing wrong with such a theory.‘
The lieutenant gazed dumbly back.
‘Can’t you see?’ Athelstan murmured. ‘Someone in the Tower must have told such an assassin where, when and how Sir Ralph could be found!‘
A now crestfallen lieutenant led them down the stairs. The two burly, thick-set guards still squatted with hands outstretched towards the fiery red brazier. They hardly moved as Colebrooke approached and Athelstan sensed their disdain for a junior officer suddenly thrust into authority.
‘You were on guard last night?’
The soldiers nodded.
‘You saw nothing untoward?’
Again the nods, accompanied by supercilious smiles as if they found Athelstan slightly amusing and rather boring.
‘Stand up!’ Cranston roared. ‘Stand up. You whorebegotten sons of bitches! By the sod, I’ve had better men tied to trees and whipped till their backs were red!‘
The two soldiers jumped up at the steely menace in Cranston’s voice.
‘That’s better,’ the coroner purred. ‘Now, my buckos, answer my clerk’s questions properly and all will be well.’ He grasped one by the shoulder. ‘Otherwise, I may put it about that in the dead of night you killed your master.’
‘That’s not true!’ the fellow grated. ‘We were loyal to Sir Ralph. We saw nothing, knew nothing, until the popinjay the guard shrugged ‘-the constable’s prospective son-in-law, comes rushing down, exclaiming he can’t rouse Sir Ralph. He grabs the key and is about to return, but the coward thinks better of it and sends for the lieutenant here.’
‘You heard him knock on the door and call Sir Ralph?’ Athelstan asked.
‘Of course we did.‘
‘But he did not enter?’
‘The key was down here,’ the guard replied, pointing to a peg driven into the wall. ‘It was hanging before our eyes. There were only two. One here, and Sir Ralph had the other.’
‘You are certain of that?’ Cranston asked.
‘Yes, yes,’ the fellow confirmed. ‘I found the other key on the table next to the constable’s bed as soon as I opened the door. I have it now.’
Cranston nodded. ‘Ah, well,’ he breathed, ‘enough is enough. Let us see the tower from the outside.‘
As they left the North Bastion, they suddenly heard an awesome din from the inner bailey. They followed the lieutenant as he hurried under the arch, staring across the snowcapped green. The noise came from a building in between the great hall and the White Tower. At first Athelstan couldn’t distinguish what was happening. He saw figures running about, dogs leaping and yelping in the snow. Colebrooke breathed deeply and relaxed.
‘It’s only him,’ he murmured. ‘Look!’
Athelstan and Cranston watched in stupefaction as a great brown shaggy-haired bear lurched into full view. The beast stood on its hind legs, its paws pummelling the air.
‘I have seen bears before,’ Cranston murmured, ‘roughhaired little beasts attacked by dogs, but nothing as majestic as that.’
The bear roared and Athelstan saw the great chains which swung from the iron collar round its neck, each held by a keeper as the lunatic Red Hand led the animal across the bailey to be fastened to a huge stake at the far side of the great hall.
‘It’s magnificent!‘ Athelstan murmured.
‘A present,’ the lieutenant replied, ‘from a Norwegian prince to the present king’s
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