40

You have left a trail of devastation across the city,” shouted Walsingham. “I thought when we spoke yesterday, in this very chamber, that the worst you had done was kill a servant boy.”

“What are you accusing me of?” retorted Crackenthorpe, facing the small man on the other side of the table.

“It’s not me accusing you. It’s Clarenceux’s manservant, and he has a host of witnesses. Not only did you hang the boy, but you also stole Clarenceux’s horses.”

“I did not steal them. I took them as compensation for the murder of my brother.”

“You had no right simply to appropriate another man’s property just because you felt aggrieved. There are courts—”

“I don’t give a damn about courts. No one kills a member of my family, or blinds one of my men in one eye, and lives to brag about it. No one.”

“Don’t be a fool, Crackenthorpe. It is not a personal matter. Regard it as such, and you will get yourself killed. You’ll betray me. You failed to keep Clarenceux in your sight—that is what matters most. That he killed one of your men is not my failing but yours. You should have posted more guards. You should have followed him yourself.”

Crackenthorpe suddenly kicked over the chair in front of him and stamped on it, splitting the struts. He stamped again, then pulled off one of the legs and held it like a cudgel. He pointed it at Walsingham. “So it’s my fault that Clarenceux killed my brother? My fault that Ralph French was blinded? I have a good mind to beat your brains out, here and now.”

Walsingham stared him down. “Yes, it’s your fault. And beating me won’t change what you’ve done. It will remove your only protector—the only man who will save you from the gallows. You are responsible for the death of that servant boy. And Machyn’s. And that of the Scottish assassin. And the theft of the horses. And the fact that Clarenceux is at large. You have failed on almost every count. If the course of the law were to run freely, you would draw your final breath this very day.”

Crackenthorpe gripped the chair leg more firmly. “I found Machyn’s will. Not you. And I found Machyn himself too. No one else stayed out that godforsaken night. I waited for hours in the cold and the rain—and not only did I find Machyn but I discovered that Clarenceux was part of the plot. You had not even imagined that he was involved. I protected Draper from the Scots assassin and I found out about the Knights of the Round Table. Don’t tell me I have failed on every count. I have paid a very high price in your service. And I have succeeded in ways you did not foresee.”

Walsingham stepped around the table until he stood barely five feet from the taller man. His voice was calm. “Do not presume you can speak to me in this manner.”

There was silence. Suddenly Crackenthorpe smashed the leg of the chair down on the edge of Walsingham’s table, breaking the leg in two. He threw the piece into the fireplace. “I’ll speak how I see things, Mr. Walsingham. I’ll do things my way. I will kill Clarenceux. I have sworn it and I will do it. And if you try to stop me, I will kill you too.”

“Don’t even think of it. I could crush you.”

Crackenthorpe laughed. “You? Look at the size of you!”

“Exactly, Crackenthorpe. Look at the size of me. I am the State. I am the force of law. If you kill the body of Francis Walsingham, you have not even begun to touch me. I am just one of the many instruments of her majesty. I hang men like you every day by the hundred—all across the country—and I glory in those hangings, the true measure of my power.”

Crackenthorpe stared at Walsingham, the black skull cap, the relentless will. “All right. I have made mistakes. But I swear that what I said is true. I will kill Clarenceux. And I will kill anyone who tries to stop me.”

“First you must find him. Then you must let me interrogate him. Afterward you can do what you want.”

“I will find him, be certain of it.”

“And the other Knights of the Round Table—you will find them too.”

“Draper we have already seen. Nicholas Hill was found in Queenhithe ward by the guards I had posted looking for Clarenceux. He ran as far as the Guildhall before they brought him down.”

“Has he talked?”

“He will soon.”

“I don’t care about his welfare, as well you know, but I don’t want to offer the authorities any more reasons to indict you. Their interference will just make our problems worse. Don’t kill him. What about the others, Michael Hill and Daniel Gyttens?”

“No sign of them. Yet.”

“And the blacksmith’s house, the one by which Machyn came and went. Have you identified it?”

“There are no houses on the walls owned by anyone called Mason. But there are only a limited number of ways into the city. I will know by this time tomorrow.”