Part 19 (1/2)

'Only up to a point. He was very discreet where ladies were concerned. But this case was slightly different.'

'Why?'

'There was an element of revenge,' explained the soldier. 'Jeronimo felt that your brother had slighted him. What better way to get his own back? He could sport with the lady and enrage Henry at the same time.'

'It was no true romance, then?'

'Only for her.'

'And who might she be?' 'Your brother will tell you that, Mr Redmayne.'

'He prefers to protect the lady's reputation.'

'He'd have done that best by leaving her well alone for she was married.'

'That did not seem to hinder Signor Maldini.'

'Jeronimo is like me,' said Harvest, reaching for his tankard. 'He takes his pleasures where he finds them. That's what I meant when I said we were kindred spirits,' he went on, downing his beer in one gulp. 'We are both soldiers of fortune.'

'You did not give me the lady's name,' pressed Christopher.

'Why are you so eager to learn it?'

'So that I can tax my brother with it.'

'I would have thought he has enough troubles, as it is. Why remind him of a lady who was s.n.a.t.c.hed away from beneath him? It would only torment him.'

'You are doing that by spreading lies about him, Captain Harvest.'

'Take care, sir,' warned the other, sitting up. 'I'll brook no insults.'

'You are quick enough to hand them out.'

'I speak as I find.'

'Was Signor Maldini as hot-blooded as you? Is that why you liked him?'

'We understood each other, Mr Redmayne.'

'You both preyed on innocent women, you mean?'

Harvest beamed. 'Jeronimo's conquests were not innocent,' he said. 'Far from it. He had a preference for married women and they for him. Take the lady whom your brother was sniffing after. She deliberately cuckolded her husband.'

'Why?'

'Because Jeronimo wooed and won her. He was a very handsome man.'

'And a vengeful one, too. He made sure that my brother knew about it.'

'I applauded that.'

'What happened to the lady afterwards?'

'Who knows?' asked Harvest with a shrug. 'Who cares? Such dalliances come to a natural end. Jeronimo simply walked away and never looked back.'

'But she must surely have loved him to take such a risk.' 'She was obsessed with him.'

'Then it would be a kindness to let her know of his fate,' said Christopher. 'If she was truly enamoured of him, it's only fair to let her mourn him.'

”That thought never struck me,' he admitted, 'but you are right.'

'Tell me the lady's name and I'll apprise her discreetly of the facts.'

'I'd do that myself, if I could.'

'What prevents you?'

'Jeronimo never told me who she was, Mr Redmayne. Only what she was.'

Christopher was relieved. After only a minute in the company of Captain Harvest, he knew that he could never gag the man. If he were asked in court what was the source of discord between the prisoner and the fencing master, Harvest would not lie. He would disclose a possible motive for murder. But he would not be in a position to create additional scandal by naming the lady in question. It was compensation for the effort that Christopher had put into finding the man that evening.

Captain Harvest got to his feet. When Christopher rose, he saw for the first time how brawny the man was. The soldier glared at him with a mixture of hostility and amus.e.m.e.nt.

'Go your way, sir. I'll not help your brother to escape the gallows.'

'You still think him guilty?'

'Yes, Mr Redmayne. Guilty of murdering a good friend of mine.'

'Yet when he left you in Fenchurch Street, my brother could barely stand.'

'He was not too drunk to stab a man in the back.'

'Perhaps not,' said Christopher, 'but I very much doubt if he could then carry a dead body to the river and have the presence of mind to throw it in.'

'I agree with you.'

'Then why do you still name him as the killer?'

'Have you not worked it out yet?' taunted Harvest. 'Henry had an accomplice.'

Chapter Ten.

Jonathan Bale rarely discussed his work as a constable with his wife. Most of it was too tedious even to talk about and he sought to protect her from the more gory aspects of his occupation. His children always pressed him for details of terrible crimes but he refused to satisfy their ghoulish interest. It was his belief that a home should be a place for quiet, pleasant, restorative family life, safe from the horrors that stalked the streets of London. This time, however, it was different. His younger son had actually been the person to discover a murder victim so it was impossible to say nothing about the investigation when he stepped into the house. Both boys were eager to know when the killer would be tried and hanged. Richard, in particular, was agog for any news.

Their day began with family prayers. It was followed by a breakfast of bread, whey and the remains of a meat pie that Sarah Bale had baked the previous afternoon. When the meal was over, she took her sons off to their petty school nearby. On her return, she found Jonathan still in his seat. He was brooding darkly.