That night I learned that my spies were all but useless. Only Sam Cutpurse had any information, and that was hardly helpful. He had tracked down an armourer who had accepted the weapons supplied by Vanderstilt to Sir Edmund, and after speaking to him at some length over several pots of ale – which he expected to receive compensation for – heard that another merchant called Lewan de Beaulieu was engaged in a similar business, supplying arms from his own ships to men around London.
Early the next morning, I was at Beaulieu’s house. It was one of the newer brick buildings just off Cheapside, and I stood on the opposite side of the street staring at it for some time. It was one of those places which had been designed with a view to trade. The windows were shuttered, a sensible precaution against the London mob, and I could see that an archway led around to a yard area behind – not that I could see anything. The gates were solid, fitted the gateway perfectly, and were barred. There was no view of the space behind, although there must have been space for a London cart without difficulty.
I was soon admitted to the merchant’s counting house, where I found him, an elegant man with a black cap and heavy coat, shivering in a room that had no fire. Two clerks were adding up his profits, and they cast anxious eyes at me as I entered.
De Beaulieu welcomed me with the sort of look that spoke of his suspicion that I was not likely to add to his profits that day. ‘Yes?’
I explained that I would like to speak with him in private, and he very reluctantly told his two assistants to make themselves scarce.
He was not an unpleasant man to look at. His paunch spoke of his wealth, and his genial smile told of his good nature, but there was a glint in his eye that also said he would not tolerate having his time wasted, and also that he was a man who would not appreciate protracted politeness. It would be best to come to the point. I explained that I was investigating the disappearance of a countryman of his, and asked if he could help me.
‘I am also from Holland come, yes. So too are many others. Holland is no small nation,’ he said. ‘What do you want to know?’
I explained I wanted to find Vanderstilt. ‘I have heard that you are in competition with him. You trade in the same goods.’
‘He has disappeared, you say? That is terrible. We are both merchants, it is true. As to competition … occasionally we may find we have similar goods to sell.’
‘Such as weapons?’
‘It is possible. We sell what we can, and if we have requests for certain items, we attempt to supply them, naturally. It is our function.’ His eyes, I noticed, had hardened, giving the lie to his amiable expression. A servant brought us wine in pewter goblets, simple and unadorned, but very delightful, and I sipped as I considered him and the room.
It was plain. Tables stood against three walls, one swamped with papers, one holding ledgers, the third covered in bags and towers of coins. There was little ostentation, and I looked about for signs of his religion. A crucifix hung on one wall opposite a window, and I saw that a rosary of bright beads dangled from Beaulieu’s belt. Yet in the present religious climate, many would adopt the trappings of Catholicism without necessarily the beliefs. It was safer.
‘What can you tell me about him?’
‘Vanderstilt? He is a young man making his way. His father helped him set up in business, and loaned him money to help him start, and when his father died some years ago, Vanderstilt took over the family business, and advanced his own trade. I helped him when he was new to the trade. I assisted him in memory of his father, advised him and even lent him men from my own business. He has two ships now, and plies their trade between Amsterdam and London.’
‘What sort of a man is he? Friendly, amiable?’
‘Outside business, yes. But in business, he’s as grasping as a miser. Few can beat him. In a tavern, he will buy the best wine for all, and think nothing of paying for all his friends, but in business, count your buttons before leaving him. He might take them all,’ Beaulieu said, a grin breaking over his face.
‘His competitors may not like him, then?’ I said.
‘Yes. I myself managed to hold off one of his ships. It is a grim side of business, but sometimes a man must do what he can.’ Seeing my confusion, he grimaced and continued, ‘You see, if a man can bring his cargo over sooner, he will benefit from the higher prices. If there is a glut on the market, the price will fall. If it is still a rare item, because no other merchant has managed to dock yet, the first in the markets will command higher prices for their rarity. So for some little while, I have been bribing an official at the Dutch port to raise questions about Vanderstilt’s cargoes. It has held him back but increased my profits.’
It sounded like a sharp practice to me, but what could I know? Besides, it was something done in a foreign land, and not under the jurisdiction of English justice.
‘Did you hold him in contempt, then?’
‘No. For my part I think him a likeable rogue. He is a pleasant fellow, good company, and although he sails close to the wind on occasion, he is yet an honourable businessman, I think. I liked his father, too.’
‘But others might have troubles with him?’
‘Ah, who can say, but that someone in business might resent his profits at their expense?’
‘Did you lose business to him?’
‘Many times,’ Beaulieu said. ‘But if I were to attack all those who have taken business from me, I would have no time to conduct work of any sort. It is a part of life. Not every deal can be won. We win some, we lose many. He was the same. We merchants tend to be practical; phlegmatic. There is enough trade for all.’
‘So you can’t think of other merchants who might have wanted to harm him?’
‘No! I think you will find he returns soon. I expect he has been travelling to make a trade somewhere.’
‘You don’t think he could have been murdered?’
‘Not Geoffrey, no. It seems unlikely to me.’ He paused and looked at me very directly, and while the genial smile remained on his lips, his eyes were as cold as diamond. ‘What exactly is your official interest in this matter?’
I sipped wine and considered him. He appeared to be the sort of man who would be honest. I had seen no indication of his trying to mislead me. As I set the goblet back on the table, I had made up my mind to be frank.
‘A friend of mine has been accused of Vanderstilt’s murder. He was arrested and held, and I seek to show him innocent.’
‘What is this friend’s name?’
‘Blackjack. He owns the house which Vanderstilt was renting.’
‘Oh? Why should he be suspected of murder?’
‘He was heard, foolishly, threatening Vanderstilt because he was a little late with his rent.’
‘I see.’ He took in my attire. As usual, I was clad in plain clothing, with little ostentation. After considering, he set his head to one side and studied me again. ‘I am aware that Geoffrey had some people who were displeased by his efforts. A knight had been arranging for weapons to be brought into the city.’
‘Who?’ I asked, but I knew the answer.
He quickly confirmed it. ‘Sir Edmund de Vere.’ Seeing me nod and make as though to leave, he leaned back in his seat. ‘You know, I like this city. It is a place where men can live side by side and not fight. Foreign men like me are welcomed, if we accept the city’s laws and obey them, and if we pay our taxes and customs. It is friendly, safe, and a haven for the persecuted.’
I nodded, thinking the fool clearly had not spent much time in the places I knew.
Continuing, his eyes went to his goblet as if he was speaking to it. ‘I would be displeased to think that a man might desire to overthrow the command of the city or the country. This kingdom is precious to me.’
‘Is that why Sir Edmund did not go to you for his weapons? Or did you refuse him?’
‘Oh, I only learned of his plans afterwards. You see, I had another client who wanted a similar cargo, and I was not aware of Sir Edmund’s.’ He looked at me closely again and appeared to make a decision. ‘The man I was working for was another who wished for a large consignment of swords, halberds, lances and guns. When I heard Sir Edmund was seeking the same, I was immediately struck with the one thought: the two men must be arranging for shipments to arm soldiers. But they did not work for the queen. So they were planning their own army – and that could only be for one reason.’
‘To overthrow the queen,’ I breathed.
‘No. Perhaps that was so with Sir Edmund de Vere, but my own client is beyond reproach. I know him well, and he is not a man to foment rebellion. His arms were to protect the throne.’
‘I see.’
‘However, he is not a knight, and therefore more … affected by the laws of the land. Perhaps he might fear that his own venture could become his downfall? If one conspiracy was discovered, his own life might be at risk? They say a man can be tarred with the same brush, I think?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘Who was this?’
After some minutes of reassuring him that I would not allow his own name to become known in relation to any criminals’ acts, he finally grunted and admitted.
‘George Loughgren.’
After that interview I proceeded to Aldgate. I confess that I was chewing over the interview with Beaulieu all the way.
So, according to Beaulieu, Loughgren was also accumulating weapons. He and de Vere were – what? Planning insurrection together? A rebellion against the queen? I do not believe in coincidences: if two men in London were collecting weapons for armed uprisings, surely no matter what Beaulieu thought, the two must be acting in accord.
Her ‘own forces’! The army was a nondescript aggregation of every churl, thief and vagabond who was prepared to take a niggardly salary for the benefit of a limited amount of power. In truth, they were ill-equipped and disorganized: in essence, a rabble. She had some good bodyguards, the city of London had its own militia, but against a coordinated attack by well-armed and drilled soldiers, they would be helpless. Those who had fought in the queen’s wars in France and elsewhere were disbanded as soon as they returned. They could be of no use. The others, the men of fighting age, were untrained, and of those, how many would seek to uphold the queen’s position? It was likely to be all too few. De Vere could likely raise a small army from the disaffected in Kent; Loughgren must be moderately wealthy, or was backed by others who were, from the sound of the orders he had put through Beaulieu. How many others were there about the country? Sir Thomas Parry had spoken of men up and down the country who could be tempted to help remove the queen: from the Scottish Marches, from Gloucester, from York – if de Vere and Loughgren were aware of them, they could make common suit with them.
And if so, where would that leave Lady Elizabeth? Very likely held either as a prisoner, or perhaps executed, unless she had some contacts with the rebellion.
I would have to write a lengthy note to Sir Thomas, outlining these new threats.
I continued on my way and was soon rapping sharply on Jack’s old door.
Vanderstilt’s servant was an elderly man who looked as if he had already died, but whose mind had not yet caught up with the fact.
‘My master?’ he said, glowering steadily like a man who suspected I might be a thief, damn his cods! He gradually opened up a little and told me that he was sure his master must have been waylaid on his way back from Sir Edmund de Vere’s house.
‘Are you sure that was where he was going?’
It seemed a most significant coincidence that the fellow was going to the same house where Sir Thomas Parry had told me to arrange a death. Everything seemed to return to de Vere.
‘Yes, yes. But he never returned. My poor master disappeared that night, and I have not seen him since,’ the man said. He looked like a fellow in mourning, clad in his dark clothes, and with his face gaunt and strained, but a glitter in his eyes. ‘He has never been away so long before. Some, they say he has fled because of his money troubles, but that is a lie. He would not run from the town for such a reason. He would ensure those he owed money to would be paid.’
His voice carried conviction. I said, ‘What of the money he owed Jack Blackjack?’
‘The landlord? He paid it.’
‘You have told the sergeant that?’
‘No one has asked me. Somebody did say that Master Blackjack threatened my master, that if he was not paid, he would take revenge or some such, but I did not hear that. In any case, the money was certainly paid. I took it to him. He came here soon after.’
‘When?’
‘The Saturday after my master disappeared.’
‘He came here?’
‘Yes. He demanded to know where my master was. He insisted on looking in my master’s money chest.’
‘And?’
The old man gave a sour grimace, which I took to be a smile.
‘It was empty. When my master was not home, after two days I took his money to a safe merchant to see it guarded.’
‘Who?’
It took him a while to answer that one, but after some moments he admitted, ‘Master Lewan de Beaulieu. I would not trust my master’s money to an Italian or other banker.’
‘I see.’
‘The girl, I do not know of.’
‘What girl?’
He looked surprised. ‘There was a maid up near the Bishopsgate, murdered, so they say. They say Master Blackjack killed her.’
It struck me suddenly that Loughgren’s house, where the maid Alice had worked, might well be a reason for her death. If she had overheard a discussion between Sir Edmund and her master, and realized that the weapons were all being collected for a battle for the throne, she might have decided to tell the authorities, and her decision may have become known to her master. He might have killed her for listening. Or maybe she saw a chance for profit, threatening to blackmail her master – and he took the precaution of removing her.
Or he desired her and she was unwilling to participate in his natural desires, so he killed her. The opportunities and motives for murder were far too broad and commonplace. But neither explained why Loughgren, or “Luffrin” might have sent two men to kill me.
The steward’s voice was harsh and guttural, but there was no doubting his earnest conviction. He could not tell what had happened to his master, only that he had left to visit the knight.
I left the house with little further information, and stood for a short while outside, casting an eye up and down the roadway, wondering what I should do next. I was determined to find my assassin. If Jack was in serious trouble, I must help him. After all, it was quite possible that I could bind him to my service for some time at a reduced cost, were I able to save him from whatever fate he found himself suffering.
Jack had always been most cautious about sharing information about himself. He was a naturally reticent man. But I had spent a considerable amount of time watching him to learn all I could, and I knew there was one person who knew him probably better than any.
I crossed the street and knocked on the door opposite. Before long I was in the parlour of Mistress Susan Appleby, a cheerful, pleasant woman. She at once made me at home as we spoke, and I can safely assert that she was impressed with my authority and general demeanour.