Walsingham clapped me on the shoulder. ‘You see, Thomas – this is why we have need of Bruno’s mind. I had supposed they meant to obscure her identity, so she could not be easily recognised, but I confess that made little sense, given that they left her clothes. I had not thought it might be symbolic.’
He fell silent and I knew his thoughts had flown back, as mine had, to the last time he and I had stood over the body of a girl whose killer had left symbols carved into her flesh.
‘Perhaps I am reading too much,’ I said quickly. ‘I only wondered if someone was making a point about betrayal. How was she identified?’
‘I have people among the night watch and the constables in every borough. Clara had gone out on the evening of the twenty-seventh and was expected back at Seething Lane later that night. When she had not appeared by the following morning, I put out word that I should be notified immediately if the body of a young woman turned up anywhere in the city. The Southwark watch sent word and I dispatched Thomas to identify her. I saw her later, after we had the body brought here.’
‘And you’re certain it’s her?’ I raised my head to look at Phelippes.
‘Quite certain,’ he said. ‘Clara Poole had a large birthmark down the right side of her neck and her collarbone.’
I held my breath and leaned closer. Though the skin was discoloured and the light poor, I could make out the shape of a port-wine stain on the girl’s neck, where the blood had been cleaned away.
‘The dress is hers too,’ Walsingham said, ‘though the sleeves had been removed, along with her shoes.’
‘How did she die?’
‘I was hoping you might tell me.’
‘She would have bled like a slaughtered pig,’ Phelippes remarked. I heard Walsingham softly click his tongue in disapproval.
‘Yes, but not enough to kill her,’ I pointed out, ‘not for a long time. If her attacker cut her and starting beating her, she would have been well able to scream and alert the watchman before she bled out. I would guess she was dead when she was mutilated.’
Walsingham exhaled slowly through his teeth. ‘Small mercies,’ he said, in a choked voice.
I steeled myself and parted the stiffened lace collar to look at the girl’s neck. ‘It’s difficult to see by this stage if there’s bruising. But the way that eye is protruding – I’d say she was strangled or smothered. No other injuries?’
‘None visible, beyond the obvious.’
We contemplated the body in silence. I looked again at the bloodied mess of her face, the lips pulled back over the teeth. It would have taken effort and strength to inflict that kind of damage; the force of the blows had splintered the bone of the eye socket. If she had been beaten like this even after she was dead, it argued a loss of control by the killer, a frenzy of rage and hate. But to shave her head and sever her ears suggested the opposite: an elaborate, planned disfigurement that would have taken time, when the murderer must have known there was a chance the watchman might hear and disturb him. Why run the risk of getting caught, unless the mutilations were meant to send a message?
‘Thomas had the body brought here immediately,’ Walsingham continued, ‘before talk could spread. The man upstairs is the curate of the local parish church, he keeps the key to this chapel and does me loyal service when I need to use it for such purposes. He knows how to keep his mouth shut.’
I wondered how many other corpses Walsingham had stowed here, in case their discovery should prove inconvenient. Bodies moved in the dead of night from the cellar at Barn Elms, perhaps.
‘So – her death is not made public?’
‘No. I wanted to see if anyone came asking after her, or said anything that implied a knowledge of her killing. The watchman who found her is being held in custody for the time being, to stop him gossiping, and the constables have been paid to keep quiet.’
‘Does her brother know?’
‘Yes.’ In the dim light I saw his face tighten. ‘He has taken it hard, as you would expect, especially as I will not let him see her. It is all I can do to hold him back from running Babington through with his dagger, bringing the whole edifice crashing down, and if Robin knew the detail of what had been done to his sister I would have no hope of restraining him. I have had a great deal of work to persuade him that my way of bringing her justice will serve her memory better.’ He sighed. ‘Robin is a solid, loyal man, but Clara was all the family he had. His desire for revenge burns hot, and I fear it may eclipse his commitment to the greater good. You will meet him – his knowledge of Babington’s group will be useful to you.’
He appeared to have forgotten – or was wilfully ignoring – the fact that I had not yet agreed to his mad scheme.
‘She must have been killed south of the river, either in the Cross Bones or close by,’ he continued, moving around to the other side of the body on the trestle and peering down, a sleeve pressed to his mouth, eyes narrowed as if trying to solve a cipher. ‘Babington and his friends were dining together in the City on the night of the twenty-seventh, but the party broke up before midnight, so any one of them could have gone to meet Clara in Southwark without the others knowing.’
‘Did she give any hint that she feared they suspected her?’ I asked, keeping my eyes fixed on the girl’s hands.
He glanced at the steps behind us. There was no trace of any movement, but he lowered his voice regardless. ‘No. But in her last communication with Thomas she had promised to bring us a list of English Catholic nobles and gentry around the country who had committed to providing money and men for an invasion, once the Queen was dead. One of Babington’s group had ridden out to gather support over the last fortnight, and was due back in London any day. It would have been invaluable in anticipating possible landing places for foreign troops. Not to mention having all those confirmed traitors by name.’
‘So you think the act of stealing this list gave her away? I suppose it was not found on her?’
‘We don’t know that she even had the list yet. But she could have expressed too great an interest in it, and aroused suspicion that way. Or let slip any number of ways that she was spying.’ Walsingham shook his head. ‘You heard my daughter – she thinks I feel no remorse for this death. She could not be more mistaken. Clara and Robin’s father died in my service, I took them into my household when they had no other prospects, and they have both served me willingly. This should never have happened. But Frances cannot see that private griefs must give precedence to matters of state.’
‘She is young,’ I said gently.
‘So was this one.’ He reached out and rested his fingertips briefly on the cold flesh of the girl’s hand. ‘She should have made a better marriage, become a mother. I should have looked to that, instead of— No matter now.’ He raised his head and his eyes gleamed black in the lantern light. ‘I must find out what is happening inside this Babington conspiracy, Bruno. What her death means for its progress. If they fear betrayal and decide to hold off, we may never bring the Scottish pretender to justice.’
‘How long had Clara been intimate with the Babington group?’ I asked, as his words had prompted an idea.
‘Robin first introduced her in March,’ he said, narrowing his eyes at me. ‘Why?’
‘Three months. Have you checked to see if she was with child?’
‘The body has not been examined by a physician. What makes you suppose that?’
‘Only that, in my experience, it can be a pressing reason for a man to rid himself of an inconvenient mistress. It might be worth a look. The motive may be nothing to do with your conspiracy.’
Walsingham looked down at the girl, considering, a hand on the hilt of his knife;