16 - The Three Kings of Cologne Read Online Free

opened the door to me.
    ‘Master’s in the parlour,’ she said, bobbing a curtsey. ‘He said I’m to take you straight in.’
    I was unused to such deferential treatment, and felt uncomfortable. Even in royal palaces, servants treated me for what I was; a nobody, like themselves.
    John Foster rose to greet me, as I was ushered into the parlour, from a carved armchair near the window whose panes, I noticed, were oiled parchment, unlike those in the hall. (Those, to impress visitors, were made of the rarer and very expensive glass.)
    ‘Master Chapman, thank you for coming so promptly. Please, sit down.’ And he indicated another lavishly carved armchair, pulled close to his own. Yellow brocaded cushions covered the seat and cradled my back as I sank into it.
    ‘How can I be of use, sir?’
    For a moment, having sat down again, he seemed at a loss as to how to begin. Then he leaned forward, elbows on knees, and said, ‘I’m sure you’ve heard about this body that has recently been found?’ My nod encouraged him to go on. ‘Of course you have. A silly question. There’s been little talk of anything else for the past two days. You are aware, naturally, that it was buried on the land I’ve acquired from the Magdalen nuns? Forgive me. Another unnecessary question. After our conversation in the Lattis in February, you would probably have realized that fact sooner than most, although I think that the majority of my fellow citizens know by now of my intentions. But have you been told that the identity of the poor victim has been established?’
    This was news to me. ‘No, I didn’t know,’ I said shaking my head vigorously. ‘Who … Who is she? Did you know her?’ In my eagerness, I even forgot to address him as ‘sir’.
    ‘I knew of her. And of her parents,’ the Alderman admitted. ‘But only by hearsay. From friends of friends or acquaintances, so to speak. It’s all a long time ago. It must be getting on for twenty years since Isabella Linkinhorne disappeared.’
    ‘Twenty years!’ I echoed, astonished, not having seen the state of the body, nor having had it described to me. But now I could guess, which made my next question inevitable. ‘How, in that case, has it been possible to establish who she is? Or, rather, was?’
    ‘By a gold and amber necklace, and by a girdle of gold and silver links with an amethyst clasp that the corpse was still wearing. One of the nuns, who had known the lady well, was able to identify them almost immediately. And her father – Isabella’s father, that is – who is now a very old man of eighty-five, was able to confirm Sister Walburga’s story when they were shown to him.’
    ‘The parents are still alive, then?’
    ‘Not the mother. Mistress Linkinhorne, so I’m told, was found drowned in the Avon a year after her daughter’s disappearance. A terrible accident. I don’t know the details, but possibly distress of mind at not knowing what had happened to her child might have been a cause. Who can say? But Jonathan Linkinhorne is still alive and lives now in the Gaunts’ Hospital.’
    ‘How old was this Isabella Linkinhorne when she vanished?’ I wanted to know. ‘And when you say disappeared …?’
    The Alderman pursed his lips. ‘My understanding, from the enquiries I have made, is that she was about twenty, the only child of elderly parents, born when they had given up all hope of having children. Those in the know say that as a consequence, Isabella grew up over-indulged, spoiled and wilful, just as you might expect of one allowed to run wild from an early age.’
    ‘And she just disappeared?’
    ‘Apparently. One day she went out riding, as was her daily custom, and never came home.’
    I frowned. ‘Was she not looked for? Weren’t enquiries made as to what might have become of her?’
    At this point, the little maid re-entered the parlour, carrying a tray on which reposed a flask of wine, two beakers and a silver dish of sweet oatmeal biscuits. She