He was trying again to move a die from his sleeve to the table and back again without being spotted, when he heard the sound of someone at the window. He turned to look and saw to his horror that Robert Carey was sitting on the sill with one knee drawn up, ready to jump down.
Barnabus had drawn a knife, but Daniel was in too much of a panic to be afraid of it. He simply fell backwards off the bench, scattering dice in all directions, rolled, headed for the door. By some miracle, he got through it first, slammed it, tried to lock it, dropped the key in his haste and ran up the stairs to the bedrooms, with Carey hot on his heels.
It was Maria’s room they barged into, and she already had her first client of the day. Daniel dodged, tried to hide behind the bed, but Carey skidded to a halt and stared.
‘What the Devil...’ wailed the man on the bed, whose shirt had tangled round his armpits as Maria worked on him. He sat up, throwing Maria aside and tried desperately to pull down his shirt.
Carey had turned his back.
‘I’m very sorry, my lord,’ he said in a strangled voice, ‘I was chasing a horse-thief... I had no idea.’
Barnabus, who had seen Burghley’s hunchbacked son Robert Cecil in circumstances too wonderful to tell and was not at all concerned, went behind the bed like a ferret and hauled out Daniel, with a knife at his neck.
‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble, you,’ he hissed into Daniel’s ear as he twisted Daniel’s arm behind him very painfully. ‘That’s the Lord Warden of the West March you’ve offended. What did you think you was doing, running like that, we only wanted a little chat. Guilty conscience, that’s what it is. Come on.’
‘For God’s sake,’ said Thomas Lord Scrope, then realising he looked worse standing up than he did in bed, he sat down again and pulled the covers up to hide his embarrassment. ‘Robin. You won’t tell Philly, please. I know she’s your sister, but...’
Carey still had his back turned, but his fists were clenched. At last he turned with a perfectly calm expression on his face.
‘Don’t worry, my lord,’ he said, ‘I would never do anything to hurt her.’
Scrope winced and looked at the floor. ‘She’s a good woman,’ he said lamely, ‘she’d never... well, you know. I’m only flesh and blood...’
Carey had got a proper grip on himself. ‘I think we should both forget that this happened, my lord,’ he said.
Scrope’s face was full of relief. ‘Er... yes, forget it, absolutely right, of course.’
Barnabus was at the door with Daniel, not being too careful with his knife point either. Daniel squawked and struggled as he nearly lost his earlobe but the pain from his arm stopped him. Carey took a step closer to the bed.
‘One thing, though, my lord,’ he said very quietly.
‘Er, yes, Robin,’ said Scrope vaguely. He was being distracted by Maria’s busy fingers under the covers, Daniel saw jealously.
‘If you pox my sister, I will personally see to it that you never have the opportunity again. Do you understand me?’
‘Well... er...’
‘I’ll make a woman of you, my lord, is that clear?’
Thomas Lord Scrope quivered and shrank back under the bedclothes.
Carey didn’t wait to see his reaction, but waved Barnabus on and walked out of the room, shutting the door very carefully behind him.
They processed down the passage, where they met Madam Hetherington, with her dag.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded. ‘And who are you?’
‘I am the Deputy Warden of the West March and I am arresting your man Daniel Swanders, for horse theft and murder.’
‘He’s not my man, he’s only staying here,’ said Madam Hetherington quickly.
‘So we are absolutely clear, madam, I have... ahem... checked the matter with the Lord Warden, who is in agreement. I apologise for the disruption to your establishment, but I had hoped to take him quietly out of the courtyard, without bothering you at all. Circumstances...’
Madam Hetherington’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you taking him to the castle, sir?’
‘Not yet. I would like to use your private room, if that’s possible.’
Madam Hetherington nodded curtly, led the way down the passage and handed him the key to the room.
Carey was staring into space, his face working oddly. Barnabus wondered if there was going to be an explosion, and there was. It was Carey roaring with laughter.
‘Oh Barnabus, did you see his face... Jesus, I nearly died.’
‘I think so did he, sir,’ said Barnabus primly. ‘Very unhealthy for any man, that sort of shock.’ Carey creased up again.
‘Oh... oh... God, I must stop this, it’s a very serious matter... with his shirt up and his prick all covered with lard...’ Carey bent over and howled.
Daniel had picked himself up off the floor, felt his ear where blood was oozing and rubbed his arm and shoulder. He smiled at them uncertainly, took two of the dice from the floor near his feet and tossed them from hand to hand.
Carey was recovering himself, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, blowing his nose and coughing. ‘Oh Lord, oh Lord, I wish I could tell Philly. No, Barnabus, I know I can’t, but... All right. Enough. To business.’
Carey hitched the padding of his trunkhose onto the table and stared down its length at him. Daniel sat on the bench and continued to juggle, staring back guilelessly.
The silence suddenly became very thick, a little decorated round the edges by sounds of chatter from the kitchen and the creaking of beds upstairs.
‘Get on, Robin,’ Daniel said at last, ‘ye know me. I take it, you’re saying was it me killed Sweetmilk Graham and stole his horse? You know I’d never be mad enough to do such a thing.’
Carey sighed. Barnabus had at first stared at his impudence in using Carey’s nickname, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
