Free The Devil's Domain by Paul Doherty

where did the Constable of Dover Castle get his orders?’
    ‘By courier from London. The message was general. It simply said that our wine fleet would be leaving Calais and French privateers were busy in the Channel’
    ‘A remarkable coincidence.’ Sir John, wheezing and puffing, got to his feet.
    ‘What are you implying?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Something I’ve suspected.’ Sir Maurice spoke up. ‘The
St Sulpice
and
St Denis
came out of a French port. They had to be prepared and provisioned for sea.’ He shrugged. ‘It was common gossip that the Regent had a spy in the French camp who sent him news about this.’
    ‘And now the French captains themselves suspect this?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Possibly.’
    Sir Walter rubbed his hands together, pleased that suspicion had been diverted from him.
    ‘It could well cause animosity amongst the prisoners,’ he declared, bright-eyed, ‘if they thought someone was the traitor, perhaps Serriem?’
    Sir John clapped him on the shoulder. And you, Sir Walter?’
    ‘I know what you are thinking.’ The knight gaoler shrugged Sir John’s hand off. ‘Don’t worry, Sir John, I thought the same as soon as I knew Serriem was dead. Here’s old Limbright, a man who hates the French, who killed his wife, sons and drove his daughter witless. What a marvellous opportunity for revenge!’ He drummed his fingers against his dagger. ‘But I didn’t want them dead, Sir John. I just wanted them prisoners. I wanted them to experience the hurt that I felt. To pine for their families as I did. To walk round and round a room and feel the grief of separation.’ He faced the coroner squarely. Athelstan noticed the spots of anger high in his cheeks. ‘And if I wanted to kill them, Sir John, I’d do it honourably. I may be the knight of the dirty jerkin, ageing and bitter, but it would be sword against sword, or lance against lance, not poison in the dead of night.’
    ‘Well said! Well said!’ Athelstan commented.
    ‘And the corpse?’
    ‘It will be interred in some churchyard!’ Sir Walter snapped. ‘If the French want it home they’ll have to pay for it!’
    ‘I’d best be leaving,’ the physician interrupted.
    Aspinall bid farewell, and quietly left.
    Sir Walter waited until the footfalls faded.
    ‘Now there goes a man,’ he muttered sarcastically, ‘who believes that blunt, honest speech covers a multitude of sins.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Our good physician is what he claims to be but he likes visiting Hawkmere Manor.’
    ‘Stop talking in bloody riddles!’ Sir John snapped.
    ‘Aspinall is a bachelor; he’s taken a liking to young Gresnay.’
    ‘You mean he’s a lover of men?’
    ‘I didn’t say that, Sir John. Serriem did. Aspinall is recently arrived in London. I know little of him. Anyway, Gresnay had a fall downstairs. Aspinall came to examine him. Nothing more than bruised ribs. Serriem cracked a joke about our physician being as tender as a woman. Gresnay and the physician became rather flustered, very embarrassed. A fight might have ensued but Vamier intervened.’
    ‘Is there anything else we should know?’ Sir John asked.
    ‘Very little! The French seem a close-knit group of sailors and soldiers who’ve fought against the Goddamns since their youth. They give little away.’
    ‘And how long will they remain here?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘They are all from fairly wealthy families. But the ransom is steep, ten pounds in gold each.’
    ‘Why so high?’
    ‘Talk to any ship owner along the Thames,’ Sir Maurice answered. ‘The
St Sulpice
and
St Denis
were hated and feared. Those two warships did terrible damage to English shipping. They are only receiving what they served up to others.’
    ‘Wait! Wait!’ Sir John held his hand up as Sir Walter went to open the door. ‘They commanded warships?’
    ‘I’ve told you.’
    ‘Sir Maurice, when the
St Sulpice
was taken, what was its cargo?’
    The young knight scratched his