The Gallows Murders

towards where Quicksilver sat beside a pillar. Good Lord, the rogue looked; so saintly, for a few seconds he even deceived me.;
    Vicar Doggerell continued. 'Now this miracle is not only the result of a physician's skill, but also of a deep-thinking woman realising she may have offended, albeit unknowingly, against a fellow Christian. Mistress Poppleton now wishes to make amends.'
    Well, up gets the Great Mouth in her dark brown dress and a ridiculous flurry of veils framing her fat, sullen face. She stood at the mouth of the roodscreen looking as if butter wouldn't melt in that horrible mouth.
    'Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,' she intoned. There is a dreadful rumour running like a sore through this parish that this good man-' she pointed at Benjamin – 'this county's most excellent teacher, is the subject of unnatural lusts.' Her voice rose. ‘I, Goodwoman Poppleton, declare such rumours to be an arrant lie. Master Daunbey is the jewel of our parish! A benefactor of the poor! His school's one of the great glories of the shire, to which purpose,' she plucked from the sleeve of her voluminous gown a heavy purse, 'I now donate this silver for the education of poor scholars.'
    Well, everyone began to clap. Benjamin smiled: his body, taut as a spring, relaxed. He rose from the bench, strode towards Goodwoman Poppleton and there, in full view of all, exchanged the kiss of peace with her. (I jumped up and grabbed the silver.) Mass was then celebrated in a joyous fashion.
    Afterwards, everyone gathered round Benjamin, slapping his back and saying what a fine fellow he was. I then made a terrible mistake. Old Quicksilver was for the off. He had carried out his task and, grinning and winking, sidled up to me, hand half-extended. In any other circumstances I would have cursed the idiot roundly, but Benjamin looked so happy that I slipped Quicksilver the purse of coins and turned away. As I did so, I saw the Great Mouth's elder son was glaring daggers at me. Ah well, in for a penny in for a pound is old Shallot. I smiled beatifically back as Quicksilver ran like a hare towards the lych-gate and the safety of London Town. Nonetheless, on reflection, the incident not only saved my life but that of Benjamin. It also helped us thread our way through a bloody maze of murder to unlock one of England's darkest secrets.

Chapter 2
    Within days the axe had fallen. Benjamin summoned me to his chamber. He was sitting like a hanging judge just before sentence is passed. 'Sit down, Roger’ I did so.
    'Roger, what you did was brave and good.' Benjamin smiled across the desk at me.
    Well, you know old Shallot. I just stared owlishly back at his eyebrows. It's an old trick – if you do that, people think you're being manly and holding their gaze, open and honest. Actually, some of the biggest rogues I have ever met could stare you in the eye and let the lies trip from their tongue. Oh yes, and a few of them wore skirts… 'Master?' I asked innocently.
    The business with the Poppletons, Roger,' Benjamin replied. 'I know what happened. Mistress Poppleton is a wicked woman and, on reflection, I could not understand her speedy conversion to the truth.' He waved a hand. 'Oh, don't worry, she won't recant, but they are now asking questions, Roger. They are searching for a servant whom their steward hired to empty the jakes pots. He dropped one on the floor and mysteriously disappeared. They have also made enquiries about the great Dr Mirabilis. Moreover, the Poppleton steward, to save himself, has suddenly remembered how, when Dr Mirabilis was holding forth in the taproom of the White Hart, you were always present.' Benjamin joined his hands and leaned across the desk. To cut a long story short, Roger, the Poppletons are after your blood. They are threatening to lay certain information about you before the justices’
    ‘I have done nothing wrong,' I retorted. 'And if they wish to make fools of themselves in public…'
    'Oh, they won't mention "Rotterus Arsicus",' Benjamin replied, trying not to laugh. ‘But they will allege you sell potions and physics, that you are a counterfeit man.' He shrugged. 'And you know where that could end? A fine, prison, the stocks or the whipping post.' 'My medicines are good,' I wailed. 'All of them?'
    'Well, I do my best. They are no better, and certainly no worse, than what is being sold in London.' 'But they'll say different.' ‘You could appeal to "dearest Uncle"?'
    As soon as the words were out of my