The Dance of Death by Kate Sedley Page A

lord duke and myself without arousing people’s curiosity, and that’s the last thing we want at the moment. I’m due to see you, anyway, after dinner.’
    I could tell by the duke’s frown that he agreed with his spymaster, but once I told them what had happened, they were both too concerned to be angry.
    â€˜And you got away from the house without being seen?’ Timothy asked anxiously.
    â€˜As far as I know,’ I said. ‘I went down the back lane behind the cottages that comes out into the Shambles. After that, I lost myself in the crowds.’
    â€˜No one could have noticed you from the other houses?’ the duke put in.
    I shook my head. ‘The only windows are at the front, and as far as I could tell, most of the residents keep their shutters closed because of the stink.’
    â€˜Stinking Lane lives up to its name, eh?’ Prince Richard gave a little half-smile, but immediately sobered again. ‘This means that someone knows something,’ he muttered, looking at Timothy and twisting the ring on the little finger of his left hand round and round, as he always did when troubled.
    â€˜Not necessarily, my lord,’ Timothy protested. ‘There’s no proof that this murder has any connection with Roger’s mission. It might simply be a revenge killing – a personal grudge settled in a violent way.’
    â€˜You don’t really believe that,’ the duke answered quietly, ‘and neither do I.’ He glanced at me with a rueful grin. ‘And I’m sure Roger here doesn’t, either.’
    â€˜It would be too much of a coincidence, Your Highness,’ I said firmly.
    Timothy looked as if he might be ready to do murder himself, but all he said was, ‘Whoever did the deed must have been covered in blood. It might be worth a few judicious enquiries to find out if anyone in Stinking Lane noticed a person in bloodstained clothing.’
    I laughed. ‘That could be difficult. You won’t find many men around the Shambles district who aren’t wearing bloodstained clothing.’
    Timothy gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I suppose not,’ he agreed.
    The duke, who, up until now, had been standing warming his hands at the fire, threw himself back into a cushioned armchair with a muttered curse. ‘If this man Culpepper,’ he said, ‘has been killed by a Woodville agent, how on earth did they find out what I’m up to?’
    I raised sardonic eyebrows at Timothy, who reddened and looked highly uncomfortable. Obviously, he had so far failed to acquaint Duke Richard with my previous night’s experience. This he now proceeded to do with much self-blame for not having mentioned it earlier.
    The duke looked furious, realizing, as he must have done, that Timothy had been intending to keep the incident quiet had not circumstances forced him to reveal it. As usual, though, he kept his anger in check, never, to my knowledge, berating one of his officers in front of a second person; and for someone who undoubtedly had the Plantagenet temper, I have always thought this consideration for others one of his most endearing traits. (And whatever our present lords and masters would have you believe to the contrary, he had many.)
    â€˜Do we know the name of this server? Has he been found?’
    The spymaster looked even more unhappy as he haltingly explained that the man appeared to have fled the castle as soon as he possibly could. ‘But I still do not see, Your Grace, how he could have known anything about Culpepper.’
    â€˜Maybe not.’ The duke pushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. ‘But the moment he reported to his superiors, someone would have been set to follow Roger and keep an eye on what he was up to. When he knocked on the door of Master Culpepper’s house, it would have been noted.’ He frowned. ‘If only you hadn’t gone away, Roger, but stayed to watch the house,