but at the moment it was empty. Along the road a little, a plump man, with balding hair, flitted about the groups of people as they approached the check point, collecting the single copper coin that permitted each to gain their access to the city. A queue had started to form, and those in line were complaining.
'Alright!' the toll-keeper shouted. 'Be patient!' He was speaking to everyone, and to no one in particular. 'I'm working as fast as I can. Highport is the same place as it was yesterday, and it'll be the same tomorrow, you ain't missing nothing.'
Cromwell walked over to the man, grabbing his arm and pulling him gently to one side. 'I need a word,' he said.
The toll-keeper looked up at Cromwell, then across to Moore, and grimaced as he recognised the two men. 'What? Now? You must be joking?' he said. 'Can't you see that I'm busier 'n a whore in a brothel load of troopers?'
Moore smirked.
'I need to speak to you about Guy Appleby,' Cromwell said.
'What? That lazy dog?' The toll-keeper reached up to take a coin from the driver of a cart that had pulled up level with the booth. He bit the silver coin and then slipped it into his pouch belt, where it clinked next to others, before waving the man through. 'It's his fault I've had to work my ass off the last couple of days.'
'What can you tell me about him?' Cromwell asked.
The man raised his eyebrows as he took another coin from the woman in the line. 'Well, I know he ain't showed up for work again, today. 'N' if I had my way he'd get the boot for it 'n' all.'
'That's a bit harsh,' Moore said.
'Harsh, my ass!' the toll-keeper replied. 'You should try standing out here all day, in all weathers, on your own with nought but miserable-faced comers and goers moaning about paying a gate tax they hate.' His face was full of thunder. 'It don't even go towards paying for the roads anymore.'
'Just answer the questions, will you?' Cromwell was growing impatient and he realised that he would have to be direct with the man, or else it was likely to be a wasted journey. 'What's his character like? And I need the truth, it's important.'
'Why?' the toll-keeper asked. 'What's he done for the law t' be interested in him all of a sudden?'
'He went and got himself killed,' Moore said.
The toll-keeper spun around and glanced between the faces of the two men, clearly shocked by the news.
Cromwell nodded at the man, confirming Moore's words. 'His body was found two nights ago, over near the harbour. He was murdered.'
'Well I'll be blowed,' the toll-keeper said. He frowned as he took in the news. 'And there was me speaking ill of the dead.' The man shook his head, obviously thinking about his colleague. 'Hang on a minute,' he said, and then turned to the queue of people.
'I'll be right back!' he shouted, for all to hear. They groaned as one as they heard the words. 'Wait a minute, will you?' he added, before turning back to face Cromwell.
'Can you tell me what he was like?' Cromwell asked.
'He was a good man,' the toll-keeper replied, 'never had a day off in all the time he worked here, well, not 'til now anyway. T' be honest I didn't think it was like him not to show up.'
'So you would say he was of good character?' Moore asked. He took out his notebook and scribbled notes as the man spoke.
'The best,' the man said. 'Trus' him with your life, you could.'
'Do you think he could kill someone?' Cromwell's question was blunt.
'What?' The toll-keeper took a step backwards as if he had been slapped across the face by what Cromwell had suggested. 'Don't be ridiculous!' He shook his head and frowned. 'I've never heard anything so stupid in my life.'
Cromwell needed to be sure. This was the second witness that had vouched for the man, and he had now confirmed the opinion that Appleby was not Agatha's killer, but nonetheless he pressed the point further. 'What makes you say that? The most unlikely of people have been known to do things that even their loved ones would never have believed.'
'I know that,' the toll-keeper replied. 'But I swear, jus' as you are standing there, I know that man couldn't do anything like that.'
'What do you think he would do if he had some information that might help the Watch?' Cromwell continued. 'Do you think he would come forward?'
'What kind of information?'
'The kind that might help us to solve another crime.' Cromwell watched the man's face closely. 'You knew him quite well by the sounds of it. What do you think he would do?'
'Depends what it was,' the toll-keeper said. 'If it was something that'd mean he'd have to spend time in the nick, up close and pers'nal with you lot, then he'd prob'ly do what most people 'round here would do.'
'Which is what?' Moore asked.
The toll-keeper smirked as he looked at the two men. 'Keep their mouths shut and mind their own bus'ness.'
oOo
Winterburne liked this part of town with the imposing architecture of the Palace, monolithic formality of the University and the sharpened spires of the Cathedral. It was Imperial workmanship at its best. As he reached the crown of the rise, the Palace presented itself to him in all its glory; the black and white banners of the Emperor and the blue and gold of Westmoreland hanging down from the upper balconies, and the pristine stonework gleaming in the sunlight. Above it all, flying from the turrets of the roof, were the huge flags of state. They looked small from this distance, but he had seen them up close and they were at least twice as tall as him and double that in length.
Winterburne crossed the square, conscious of the fact that, apart from a line of three guards marching in the opposite direction, he was effectively alone. He kept walking, soon coming to the stone steps and climbing them to the wide pavement that led to the main doors. The guards on either side ignored him as he approached, and he was not sure whether to be glad that he was unchallenged or nervous that he must be so well known to them.
The formidable doors that lay before him were made of thick oak and the added iron straps would give them even more strength than the native wood alone could provide. He had always supposed that these would be difficult to break down if ever they were attacked, but he hoped he would never have to live through that day.
The right hand door was already open a little and he made his way towards it, passing through the opening into the Reception Hall that stretched away before him with its floor tiled in marble. His boots echoed around the chamber as he entered, crossing to the centre of the hall, looking over at the ornate staircase leading to the upper floors of the Palace. Worked into the floor itself was the famous mosaic of the Imperial eagle of the Emperor's House; it was his favourite piece of art work and had been made from thousands of inlaid pieces of black onyx. On either side of the staircase stood more Guardsmen, wearing the emblems of the personal bodyguard of the Emperor.
Winterburne had been inside the Palace enough times to know that all he need do was wait and the duty attendant would then arrive to take him to the audience chamber. As he waited patiently, various administrative staff scooted from one side of the hall to the other, all of which were wearing matching dark clothing. As he watched them from afar, he realised that he was unable to tell one from the other, and he smiled. Footsteps approached from behind and he turned, keeping a tight hold of the shirt, still tucked beneath his arm.
'Captain Winterburne,' Draper said, 'it is good to see you again.'
He took Winterburne's hand and shook it warmly.
'Their Highnesses are waiting for you in the audience chamber. Please, follow me.'
Draper led Winterburne in the direction of the Main Hall, finding himself having to quicken his pace to keep up with the brisk man. There would, no doubt, be a tight schedule and Draper had proven to be a master timekeeper many times over.
'The Empress is attending also?' Winterburne asked, as they walked.
Draper nodded. 'Agatha was considered a member of the Imperial household, Captain,' he said, 'so naturally, Her Highness is concerned to hear of any developments.' He paused as they continued walking.
'As are we all.'
'Of course,' Winterburne said.
Guards had been stationed around the chamber, as discreetly as possible, but still within easy reach of the main doors should they be required. Winterburne looked up and saw the vaulted ceiling with its gilded ridges providing the additional support required to hold the great weight, far above.
'This really is a beautiful building,' he said, as he looked around. 'I love coming here.'
Despite the number of times that he had been within its walls there was still something special about its history and workmanship that excited him, and he was well aware that he was in the numbered few that actually got to look inside the Palace, let alone regularly.
'It is indeed a privilege to serve their Highnesses in such a wonderful location, Captain,' Draper replied.
The doors to the audience chamber were directly ahead, clean and white with gilt edging. Mock white pillars stood on either side of the door, and to either side waited the pages, their backs to the wall and no more than boys to Winterburne’s eye. They were perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old, but they were already considered old enough to fight and die in the Emperor’s army if they were ever needed.
Draper neared the doors and the pages stepped forward at the same time turning the levers and pulling the doors in a coordinated move that Winterburne thought might have taken hours to perfect. The gap between the two doors widened to reveal the expanse of the audience chamber beyond. At the far end was the Imperial dais and he could see in the distance that the thrones were already occupied.
They travelled across the room, through the main processional which lay between two rows of supporting columns, until they reached a natural opening beneath the dome. On the Emperor’s right hand side, Winterburne recognised the figure of the Lord Chamberlain, and standing before the dais, with his back turned to him as he approached was Commander Martell. Winterburne’s heart sank. That was something he really did not need, he thought.
'Your Imperial Highnesses, My Lord, Commander,' Draper announced, 'Captain Winterburne to see you.'
'Welcome, Captain,' the Emperor said, following him with his eyes as he approached the steps, 'and thank you coming to see us today. I know you are very busy and I especially appreciate you giving us some of your time during this most challenging period.'
Winterburne stood to attention and bowed to thank Frederick for his greeting. Empress Kateryn sat beside the Emperor, and she smiled at him in recognition. Both wore their crowns of state, as was usual during these appointments, the diamonds and sapphires sparkling as they were hit by the light from the windows high above.
The Chamberlain stepped down from the platform and paced across to Winterburne. 'Captain,' Courtenay said, 'I believe that you are going to give us an update on your investigations, and in particular what you have learned so far about the death of Miss Lovell.'
Martell looked over at Winterburne. 'Yes,' he said, 'we are all most eager to hear what you have to say.'
'Indeed,' Courtenay added.
'Of course, My Lord,' Winterburne replied, in response to the Chamberlain, but he ignored Martell completely. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the Empress had shot a glance across to the Emperor, and he could have sworn that she had winked at him as she did so.
'Your Highnesses, My Lord,' Winterburne said, 'I will attempt to run through the course of events as we know them up to this point in time. Please, feel free to ask any questions you may have as we proceed.' He paused to check his pocket again.
'Thank you,' Frederick said. 'Continue as you wish.'
Winterburne took a deep breath as he collected his thoughts, there was a lot to tell and in his mind he searched for a beginning. 'I would like to start by taking you back to the night of Agatha's murder. We know that she left