Queen Without a Crown by Fiona Buckley Read Free Book Online Page A

by his height, his velvet gown, gold chains, white stave of office and the menacing grip on her arm, which prevented her from placating him with curtseys, gasped out her story.
    ‘His name? The sick man, who is he? I can’t send help unless I know. Come, come, girl,’ said the White Stave, and then, realizing that she was terrified and that his own majestic mien was making things worse, eased his grip and softened his voice. ‘Don’t be afraid of me. I am William Paulet, Lord St John, Master of the Household. Tell me who is ill and I will see something is done.’
    ‘Master Peter Hoxton, sir. He’s a Clerk Comptroller, sir. Oh sir, he’s . . . I think he’s out of his mind! He might kill someone! And such sickness; I never saw the like . . .!’
    ‘I will deal with it. Go back to the Spicery and go on with your duties. You have done nothing wrong.’
    ‘But sir, I can’t find the way back! I’m lost!’
    Paulet, now patting her arm kindly enough, steered her rapidly to the head of a narrow staircase and pointed down it. ‘Turn left at the foot of that, and you’ll know where you are. Off with you, now.’
    And after that, her responsibility was over, except that later on, when they knew that Peter Hoxton was dead and that the physician was talking about poison, she found herself remembering something that worried her, and she nervously told one of the upper maidservants about it, who passed on the information to one of the sergeants of the Spicery, who at once spoke to a Comptroller, who spoke to Paulet, and much to her distress, Madge found herself in Paulet’s office, standing before the great man once again, to answer questions. Concerning a man she had seen on the day of her frightening encounter with Hoxton. A man she had seen putting a pie on the tray which held Hoxton’s dinner and was waiting to be collected by his servant.
    ‘It were all just awful,’ Madge said, after getting that far with her story. ‘Awful. Awful! I won’t ever forget it, no I won’t!’
    Clearly, she hadn’t. The shock had been too great. She had been young and inexperienced, and she had never seen a naked man before, let alone a naked man apparently in an advanced state of insanity, and Hoxton’s reputation had scared her anyway.
    ‘A reputation he certainly had,’ said Sterry. ‘He was a womanizer; there’s no doubt about that.’
    ‘A young woman like Judith Easton was likely to attract his notice, then?’ I asked.
    ‘Very likely! That was the reason why her husband killed him, or so it was said. In fact, with Judith . . .’
    ‘Yes?’ I said.
    Sterry was frowning. ‘It was odd. Mostly, if a girl refused him – and there were those that did – he’d resent it, but he’d turn easily enough to somebody else. But with Judith Easton . . . He behaved as if he were really besotted. Madge, go on with your tale. Tell us about this man you saw putting something on Hoxton’s tray.’
    Madge hesitated.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked.
    ‘Well . . . it’d be easier to show you, like. Show you where things happened and that.’
    I glanced at Sterry, who nodded. ‘All right,’ I said to Madge. ‘Can you show us now?’
    Madge nodded and led the way, back through the pestle room, through the main kitchen and into a short passage with small rooms on either side, most of them with wide doorways and no actual doors. People carrying supplies in and out, usually with both hands occupied, needed elbow room but could well do without latches.
    At the far end, the last two rooms, one on each side, contained shelves where food had been set to cool because it was to be served cold. One had an array of custards and blancmanges, while the other had cuts of meat on wide dishes.
    ‘There are no flies to worry about at this time of year,’ Sterry remarked. ‘In summer, everything has to have covers or thin cloth over it, otherwise the place fills up with bluebottles.’
    ‘Back then,’ Madge said, pointing, ‘there was a table