The Heresy of Dr Dee

XXXIX

Property of the Abbey





GREEN OAK AND clean new brick were aged by crowding shadows, alleyways become caverns. Behind the gloss of commerce, this was an old town with old ways.

We walked back towards a quietened market place, where you could smell the pitch from the dead torches. No lights in the sheriff’s house. He’d be back in his farm, the other side of Radnor Forest, nursing his wounded reputation. Lights could yet be seen in the hills where the young men of Presteigne pursued a quarry they must have known they’d never find. I guessed it was become a game now, Prys Gethin already become a phantom.

I said, ‘How did he get out of the court unmolested?’

‘Mabbe the same way they got the judge out.’ Vaughan stared ahead to where the castle mound loomed grey in the moonlight. ‘There’s a yard at the back, with a gate to an alley… and back to the road out of town. You’d expect him to take one of the two roads west, but who knows? He’d be safer in England tonight.’

‘It deceives you, this town,’ I said. ‘So many alleyways, so many hidden houses.’

‘England. Welsh towns are simpler.’

‘Many of the houses and workshops were once owned, I’m told, by Wigmore Abbey.’

‘Much of the town was owned by the abbey,’ Vaughan said. ‘It was how a wool merchant like Bradshaw could buy into Presteigne so quickly. Grabbing the old abbey property from the Crown as soon after the dissolution as deals could be done.’

‘And is it possible,’ I said, ‘that deals may have been done before—?’

‘Dr Dee!’ A shout. A man approaching us briskly out of the shadows. ‘Forest, Dr Dee. John Forest.’

Dudley’s man, who we’d left behind in Hereford to intercept any significant messages from London. When the devil had he returned?

‘My master, Dr Dee… he’s not with you?’

‘No, I… haven’t seen him since this morning. I had business at my family’s home, I—’

I saw the serious, gaunt-faced Forest glancing warily at Vaughan, who at once held out a hand for the reins of my mare.

‘Take your horse to Albarn, Dr Dee?’

‘Mercy?’

‘The ostler at the Bull?’

‘Oh… yes… thank you.’

He’d yet go far, this boy. Knew when to fade into shadow. When we were alone, Forest placed a hand on his leather jerkin, at the breast.

‘I’ve a letter here – for my Lord Dudley. From Thomas Blount. His steward?’

‘I know.’

‘I’m given to understand that it…’ He hesitated. ‘That is, I think it’s of considerable import. In relation to the continuing inquiries into the death of Lady Dudley.’

‘You’ve been to the Bull?’

‘He’s not at the inn, although his horse is. No one there I spoke to can recall seeing Lord… Master Roberts. Not tonight, not this afternoon. I’ve since been all over the town.’

‘He was in the courtroom earlier.’

‘Then where in God’s name is he? God’s bones, Dr Dee, this is Lord Dudley— Master of the Horse.’ Forest smashed a fist into a palm. ‘I warned him – tried to – against this folly. Felt better when I saw all the armed men with the judge, but now…’

‘You know what’s happened here?’

‘Be hard not to. The place is collapsed into insanity! Do you have any idea where he might have gone?’

‘He’d be furious at the verdict,’ I said. ‘He’d want answers.’

‘You think he went after the judge? With one of the hunting parties?’

I hadn’t thought of that. In normal circumstance, Dudley would have been leading them.

‘I don’t know.’ I spun around wildly. ‘He’s less driven by impulse these days, but… you said his horse was still stabled at the Bull?’

Of a sudden, none of this looked good.

‘Let’s go back to there,’ I said. ‘Make sure he hasn’t returned.’

Yet knowing he wouldn’t be there. Thinking now of Dudley telling me how the whore had implied she could put him in touch with Abbot Smart. When he’d told me, I hadn’t been too convinced. But that was before I’d spoken with Anna Ceddol and drawn certain conclusions about the abbey property.



It took not long to find the narrow house in the alley, dark workshops either side of it. Glass in its windows, the moon in the glass.

John Forest beat upon the door with a gloved fist, then again, louder and harder, until an upstairs window set into a small gable was pushed open with some difficulty.

‘Come back tomorrow!’

Her face was furrowed with shadows in the moonlight; she pulled hair out of her eyes.

‘We’re looking for Master Roberts,’ I said.

‘Who?’

‘Master Rob—’

‘Never heard of him. You have the wrong door.’

‘Tall,’ Forest said. ‘Not yet thirty years. A fine, handsome man such as you won’t see around here too often.’

‘Then I’d remember. Go away.’

You could hear the woman battling to close the window, its iron frame grinding.

‘Wait,’ I shouted. ‘Amy…’

No reply, but she left the window ajar.

‘Your name is Amy?’ I said.

‘My name,’ she said, ‘is Mistress Branwen Laetitia Swift. Ask anyone in this town.’

‘You told Master Roberts your name was Amy,’ I said, thoughtful now. ‘How came you by that name?’

‘I never came by it, for, as I’ve just told to you, it’s not my name. Now leave me alone. You’re both in your cups. Get off to your homes and sleep it off.’

‘He came tonight, didn’t he? You told him you might help him in his search for a man who was called John Smart.’

‘You’re at the wrong house.’

‘Is Master Roberts in there still?’

‘Must needs we break down the door?’ Forest said.

‘Holy Mother, do you want me to shout for a constable?’ She turned her back to the window, speaking to someone in the room, not bothering to lower her voice. ‘You… show them your face… another half hour if you show them your face.’

The face that came eventually to the window was plumpen, white-haired and stayed there not long. I looked at Forest. I thought we could take it that Dudley would not be in there with another man in her bed.

‘Was he here earlier?’ I asked. ‘The man we’re seeking.’

‘I swear I know not what you’re—’

‘This house, mistress. Was it once the property of the Abbey of Wigmore?’

‘You’re drunk.’

‘To whom do you pay a portion of your earnings for its use?’

‘I bid you goodnight, masters,’ the woman who was not called Amy said.

And the window slammed and rattled.

‘Amy?’ Forest said.

‘Dudley told me that was what she called herself, when he… when he spoke with her. She was lying, of course. She knew who we meant.’

It all seemed less innocent now. For the first time this night, I began to fear for Dudley’s welfare. We came out into the alley, Forest resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Where now?’

I was not confident about this, but saw no other way.

‘I think… the abbot himself.’