“What?” Gwynnie said impatiently. “What is it?”
“You said Florian accused him of relations with Jerome.”
“I did.” Gwynnie nodded.
“Then where would they go from here?” Tombstone pointed back toward Donsen Tower. “They had spent the evening together, drank, and hooted at the moon out of their wits. Where would they go but the closest bedchamber? Not to Fitzroy’s.”
“Why not?”
“Because Jerome’s was nearer and fewer courtiers would have been around to see.” Tombstone took off back toward the tower. Heaving, Gwynnie ran after him again, struggling to keep up. Emlyn followed them as they hurried past. Rather than taking the main staircase, Tombstone led them to a much narrower one, built of wood and hidden behind two doors.
At the top of the staircase, Tombstone stepped out into a narrow corridor built into the rafters, with low-hanging beams. He reached a door and laid a hand on the wood.
“Master Woodville’s?” Gwynnie asked.
Tombstone nodded. He looked quite sick as he turned the door handle and stepped inside.
Emlyn stood guard outside the door, returning to her role as a yeoman.
Tombstone hovered on the threshold as Gwynnie stepped into the room, the better to see the place. It was a relatively small chamber, not dissimilar in size to Esme Battersby’s, though the walls were draped with fine tapestries and a coffer at the foot of the bed was heavily carved and inlaid, which Gwynnie thought odd for a man who was merely a low courtier.
Gwynnie looked through the coffer, not particularly sure what she was searching for, other than any clue as to where Jerome might be now. She soon saw that Sarah had been right about this chamber. All of Woodville’s clothes had been left where they were. The coffer was still full of hoses and jerkins.
“Maybe this is where it happened,” Tombstone whispered, as Gwynnie turned to face him. His cheeks had paled to the colour of the frost beyond the window. “Maybe this is where he…” He broke off and rubbed his face. “What was it Battersby said to Fitzroy about this night?”
“He asked if Woodville had threatened to tell the king about their relationship.”
“Ah.” Tombstone crossed the room. He glanced over his shoulder at Emlyn, apparently not wanting her to hear his next words. He lowered his voice so only Gwynnie could hear him. “Jerome once threatened to tell Pascal about my … tastes too.” He sighed heavily. “Where do you think he got the money for these fine things?”
Gwynnie was stunned. She looked around the room again at the coffer and the fine clothes within.
“You think that he tried to blackmail Fitzroy too? Then Fitzroy panicked and he…” She trailed off and closed her eyes, once more seeing the way Fitzroy had latched his hands around Florian’s throat. “If it happened here, Fitzroy would have gone to Renard, as he did after he killed Master Battersby.”
“Fitzroy is practically still a child. He goes to Renard for everything.” Tombstone moved to the window.
“That’s right… In Fitzroy’s chambers Renard said that he would remedy it. He said that he had sorted it before and would do so again.” She followed Tombstone to the window. “So, where would he have taken the body if he carried it out of here? He could have dropped it in the water?”
“No. It’s too public.” Tombstone nodded down at the dock where they had just been standing. “On New Year’s Eve, they have fireworks and grand displays on the docks at midnight. Renard would have had to take the body elsewhere.”
“There is only one way in and out of this building.” Gwynnie pressed her nose to the glass, gazing at the yeoman who stood by the door of Donsen Tower. It was the same yeoman whom Emlyn had talked to, the night that Gwynnie had broken into Fitzroy’s chambers. “That yeoman must have seen something.”
Tombstone strode out of the room.
“Do you ever walk slowly?” Gwynnie huffed and chased after him again, with Emlyn falling into step behind them. When they reached the staircase, Emlyn took hold of Gwynnie’s shoulder, holding her back.
“When all of this is said and done, we need a way out of the palace —”
Tombstone turned at the bottom of the stairs, evidently having heard. His eyes flashed with anger as they settled on Emlyn, and they all fell still.
“I have no qualms about arresting killers, Mistress Wightham. I may be working with thieves in order to find one killer, but it does not wipe away your sin.”
Gwynnie blinked, feeling as if she had been kicked in the gut. “You intend to arrest us both when this is done, do you not?”
Tombstone said nothing. He did not need to. He walked away, leaving them to hurry behind once more. Emlyn’s hand tightened on Gwynnie’s shoulder, and she nodded knowingly. Tombstone may be helping them for now, but it was not a support that would last. He would only use them for as long as it was convenient.
They stepped out into the main courtyard, and Emlyn was careful to walk swiftly away, hiding her face from the yeoman who would undoubtedly recognise her if he looked too closely. Gwynnie stayed close to Tombstone, half hiding her face behind his shoulder.
“What’s your name?” Tombstone asked the yeoman, bowing his head in greeting.
“Cuthbert, sir.”
“Were you guarding Donsen Tower on New Year’s Eve?”
“I was, sir.” The man nodded, his large hat slipping down his brow. He nudged it back up again.
“Did you see Monsieur Renard come by here that night? Or the Duke of Richmond?”
“The duke, sir? Aye, he and Master Woodville went to look at the fireworks. Didn’t see them after that.”
“And Monsieur Renard? Did you see him?” Tombstone asked tartly.
Cuthbert shifted between his feet then nodded. “Aye, I did. He came out in a most strange state, just as the final fireworks sounded. I asked him if he was well, and he said he was well enough, but he looked most sick to me. Ruddy and sweating. He was carrying something too, over his shoulder, see?” He mimicked the position, pretending to have something slung across his back. “Wrapped in a heavy cloak it was.”
“Where did he go?” Tombstone demanded.
“Toward the stables, sir.” Cuthbert pointed under an archway.
CHAPTER 28
