After arranging for the murderer Humfrie to deal with Sir Edmund de Vere, I allowed myself to return to the conundrum of my assassin and what could have happened to him.
Jack must have realized the danger he was in, and bolted after escaping from the gaol. I knew from experience that Jack was inventive and more than capable of hiding when he wanted to. Before I knew him, he had lived amongst the worst denizens of the city, the pickpockets, the whores, the robbers and rogues. He was competent at shaving dice, at using cards to gamble, and many other means of winning money. More, he knew those sorts of people.
There are some who can pass through the strata of the city with ease. They can converse with the poorest beggar, and then straighten their backs and chat amicably with a lord. Jack was one such fellow. He had the gift of charm and elegance that could pass in a royal palace, and on leaving change his clothes and mingle happily with thieves. It was a distinct skill, and ideal for a man like him, who was dedicated to fading into the background and never materializing. As an assassin, he needed to be able to disappear, just as he had now.
It was quite likely that I would not be able to find him. If Jack was determined to remain hidden, I could do little about it.
Fortunately he was only a servant, when all was said and done, and not even a particularly loyal or devoted one. Jack was a creature of his own devices. He followed his urges. Whereas many of my servants have been quite canine and obedient in their behaviour, Jack inclined more to a feline independence. When I thought of him, it was of a man who would seek his own interests first. Others, like myself, would concentrate on furthering the interests of our masters. Certainly there was a degree of self-interest in doing so, for as our masters – or my mistress – advanced, so would we in their service. Jack had none of that desire.
For him, it was more important that he should remain secure, independent, a free spirit. As an example, he would not divulge to me how he had committed his murders, no matter how often I enquired, occasionally threatening him. No, he was not prey to any concerns as to what I might do. In fact, often I would see a cool, remote look come into his eyes when I threatened him, and although I was sure that he did not mean to do so, it left me chilled. When such discussions occurred between us, even when I had tried to instil some fear in him, that look would return, and I would know that I had not only failed, but that were I not cautious, the threat might redound to my disbenefit. At such times, I was aware of a rising anxiety, and usually ensured that I had a number of my men with me for my own defence.
Still, I sought him as best I could for three days until, on Wednesday, I chafed at hearing nothing from my many informers throughout the city. Mark Thomasson told me that Jack had visited him, speaking of a blackmailer threatening to expose Jack as an assassin, but I could learn nothing more. A servant was left at the door of the Cardinal’s Hat, and a second at the entrance to the Clink, but beyond that I saw little that I could usefully do.
But inactivity was anathema to me. On the Wednesday I visited Jack’s house with a view to seeing if there was more for me to learn there.
I set off for St Helen’s.
The way was busy. Bishopsgate was full of carts and sumpters, with young apprentices and trades boys idling about as they will. The church soon rose before me and I turned to the side of it to walk down the street to Jack’s house, and knocked loudly on the door.
It should take only a few moments for a good servant to come and respond to a knock, but Jack’s servant could have baked a loaf of bread in the time it took him to come to the door. He opened it, and when I saw the familiar, surly face, I cuffed him about the ear. ‘Why did you leave me standing here so long, Raphe?’
‘Ow!’
I do have certain rights when it comes to Raphe. He is my sister’s son, and his position here was as a result of my machinations. I wanted a man in the household I could rely on to tell me what Jack was up to. It was not my aim to have my own nephew there ignoring his responsibilities to me, his uncle.
His blasted dog, Hector, immediately began to bark at me until I stared at him. He slunk off behind Raphe, tail down, growling still, but not threatening.
‘Fetch me wine, and be quick!’ I said, and followed Raphe through to the kitchen.
In there, Cecily, Jack’s cook, stood cutting up meat for a pie. She held the knife threateningly, but I ignored that, staring at Raphe while he drew off a jug of wine from the barrel, picked up a cup and brought them to me. I sat at the kitchen table, aware of the dark looks I was getting from the pair of them.
‘What do you know of your master’s disappearance?’ I demanded of Raphe.
‘He went to look at the old house, but I haven’t seen him since,’ Raphe said sulkily.
‘You didn’t report him missing?’
‘He told me – express, like – not to speak to anyone.’
‘You did not think to let me know?’
‘How could I? I didn’t know where you was.’
‘You could have told my men and they could have forwarded the message to me,’ I snapped. ‘As things are, why did he think to go to his old house?’
‘He didn’t say to me.’
‘What else can you tell me?’
‘I don’t know …’
‘Any instructions which he has given you?’
‘Only to keep the place locked up, nothin’ else.’
‘Just tell him, Raphe,’ the cook said with asperity. ‘Don’t you want your master to be released and come back here?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then tell him all you know! Oh! He came back here,’ she said, throwing down the knife and setting hands on hips. ‘He said that he was going to the Cardinal’s Hat. He looked awful, dressed like a butcher’s boy, all mucky and besmottered with filth, not at all like his usual clothing. While here, he took his gun, powder and shot, and then left by the garden, and told us not to let anyone else into the house. I suppose he didn’t mean you, though,’ she added doubtfully.
‘He said nothing more?’
‘Only that he was going to his old house, and he meant to find who had slain the tenant so he could preserve his own good name,’ she said. She set her head to one side as if listening to a voice in her head, and then nodded to herself and picked up the knife again. ‘That was all. Just a suggestion that he was going to find the actual murderer.’
I left them a little later, once I had consumed the rest of the jug of wine, pensively turning over all she had said while I did so. It made little sense for Jack to return to the place where the crime was supposed to have been committed, and the parish must have been on tenterhooks looking for him, or indeed for any man who could be thought to have been involved in the disappearance of the Dutchman. He must have been a respected man. Those who came to England to trade generally came from good families and brought with them money which smoothed their business dealings.
Perhaps it was that which had led to the man’s death. Rich men from outside the city were prey to all kinds of wild animals – most on two legs, although some few might be on four.
By then it was already late, and I was torn, but in the end I decided to return to my house to receive the reports of my spies. Jack’s tenant would have to wait until morning.