Paul Lawrence - Hearts of Darkness

‘And De Witt read both letters?’

‘De Buat gave him both letters,’ the tall man barked. ‘The question is why.’

I let his words settle in my mind. ‘Josselin tricked De Buat into giving De Witt both letters?’

The tall man nodded sagely. ‘That’s what Arlington believes.’

‘Why would Josselin do such a thing?’

‘I don’t know why,’ the tall man replied. ‘No one does.’ He lofted his sword so it pointed at my chest, his stale odour sticking to my face. ‘I was hoping you could tell me. You or Galileo.’

I raised my hand to my forehead. ‘The Earl of Clarendon and Lord Arlington are both confidants to the King, are they not?’

He shook his head and snorted. ‘You don’t understand politics, Harry Lytle, nor the relationship between Clarendon and Arlington. It was Arlington who first persuaded the King to go to war with the Dutch, greedy for the rich trade the Dutch enjoy in West India. The King yearns to be independent of Parliament, which he can only achieve with new sources of revenue. Otherwise he is obliged to call Parliament for no other reason than he needs their money. Had England defeated the Dutch early then the King would have been rich.’

‘Clarendon would rather see the King beholden?’ I frowned, worried I would soon lose the thread.

‘Of course not,’ he sighed, impatient. ‘But Clarendon knew it was folly. Arlington is a risk taker. He has no care for this country, nor for its citizens, people like you.’ Which was true enough. ‘So he is happy to gamble what is not his, in return for great riches. The Earl knows how flawed is that logic. The cost of war will break this country. We have little chance of beating the Dutch, for our leaders are divided and headstrong. Arlington’s policy throughout has been to declare in favour of the House of Orange, so emboldening the Orangists to declare civil war. He will not recognise that the Orangists are more circumspect, that they have seen the consequences of our own infightings. It is a foolhardy policy, but Arlington will not be deterred. Indeed he went so far as to betroth himself to an Orangist.’

‘Elisabeth van Nassau-Beverweert,’ I struggled to remember.

He nodded. ‘Berkshire, Josselin and myself, we are the King’s ambassadors to Holland. We have worked for peace since the war started, and in October last year we almost succeeded, until Arlington persuaded the King to make demands so outrageous, the Dutch had no option but to seek an alternative policy.’

‘The alliance with Denmark.’

‘Signed four months later,’ he said. ‘Now we hear the Dutch may be talking to the French, but the King will not hear of it. He will not hear of it because Arlington persuades him it is not true. Arlington has given up on the whole idea of making peace with the Dutch. He wants full-scale war, nothing else. Now he has nailed his flag to the mast, any suggestion that his policy is flawed would be a humiliation.’

‘You knew all this?’

‘No,’ said the tall man, lips tight. ‘Not until all this happened. I don’t know what Josselin and Berkshire knew. They were the ones working for Arlington.’

How curious he must be, I thought. How angry must have been the Earl of Clarendon. No wonder they sent their own man into Shyam to find out what transpired.

‘May I go?’ I asked.

‘To do what?’ he asked.

‘To find James Josselin, and make him tell me what happened.’

The dark man rubbed his middle finger across his brow, stroking it while he watched me. ‘Josselin will tell you nothing and Arlington will kill you.’

I stared back at him and said nothing.

‘I shall tell you something, Harry Lytle,’ he decided. ‘James Josselin has returned to London, for our spies have seen him in the City. He won’t come here, for he will not be allowed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Withypoll returned from Colchester last night and Arlington posted sentries on every gate. If Josselin attempts to leave the City he will be arrested. Soldiers are scouring the streets now. They will seize him soon, and there is nothing to be done.’ His green eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘No.’ I replied. What were we doing here if Arlington already knew where Josselin was? ‘It was a test, then,’ I realised, stomach sinking to my feet. ‘Arlington told us to wait outside to see if we would obey. He suspects we are in league with Clarendon. He wanted to know if we would do as he ordered.’

The dark man gazed upon me sorrowfully. If he wouldn’t help Josselin, he certainly wouldn’t help us. Now I understood why he was so puzzled at our arrival.

‘Smuggle us into the City,’ I demanded. ‘That is all I ask.’

‘Why?’ he asked.

Because I had to get to Jane before Arlington. Because the City was my home, the place I felt safest, and because Arlington’s men would be waiting for us outside. I prayed they did not already have Dowling. ‘I will find Josselin and I will find out who killed Berkshire,’ I replied. ‘Just get us into the City.’

He shrugged. ‘Very well. Little good it will do you. Once you are in, you will never get out.’

We clung to the tarpaulin to stop it from blowing away; the wind gusted so strong. I lay still, afraid Clarendon might betray us and send us straight to Arlington.

‘What did you discover?’ Dowling breathed into my ear.

‘It was complicated,’ I replied. ‘The essence of it being that Josselin deliberately handed a letter to the Dutch government intended for the House of Orange. By handing over the letter he betrayed Arlington’s treachery and revealed the identity of Arlington’s spy to the Dutch.’

‘Did you find out why?’ Dowling asked.

‘Clarendon doesn’t know why,’ I replied. ‘I think that’s why he won’t help. They’re afraid Josselin may have betrayed England of his own accord.’

‘They think he killed Berkshire?’

‘They’re certain he didn’t,’ I said. ‘Though they have no intention

of pursuing the issue. Josselin is on his own.’

The canvas stank of potatoes and rotten vegetables. Something cold and sticky attached itself to my cheek. I gritted my teeth and tensed my face.

We dawdled at Ludgate for what seemed an age, the noise of chattering so loud it felt like we were stuck in the middle of a great sprawling crowd. I held my breath, waiting for the cover to be torn asunder, leaving us naked and exposed.

‘Clear the way!’ the driver demanded, three or four times, voice gruff and impatient. He was a big man without much hair, surly and strong. I couldn’t hear any reply; there was too much noise to distinguish voice from voice. Someone tugged at the tarpaulin, but then a loud crack made me jump, as of a whip, and then a scream, and the tugging ceased.

‘Touch my load again and I’ll slice open your belly,’ the driver shouted, his voice closer. ‘I’m carrying goods to the Exchange on behalf of the Earl of Clarendon. Woe to any man that gets in my way.’

The din subsided a moment, and the cart jerked forwards. Another man shouted, angry, though I couldn’t make out the words. A fight broke out close to my ear. Someone screeched and something heavy landed against the side of the cart, but we kept moving, trundling forwards, leaving the worst of the bedlam behind.

‘Out now,’ the driver demanded, yanking the tarpaulin away.

I sat up and looked around, wary he delivered us into a trap. But no. He pulled up outside the main gate to St Paul’s churchyard, the wind howling about our ears, no one paying us any attention.

The driver showed us a mouth full of yellow stumps. ‘Jump out before I break your legs.’