Rory Clements - The Queen's man

The man began to turn and lift himself. He was on his knees.

‘Slowly!’

‘I mean you no harm. Please put up your sword.’ He had his hands in the air, palms forward defensively.

‘Who are you?’

‘Slide. My name is Harry Slide. I swear to God I am your friend not your foe. I beg you, Mr Shakespeare. .’

‘How do you know my name?’

‘Because we work for the same man. I am Mr Secretary’s creature, like you.’

‘Stand up, Mr Slide — if that is your name — and keep your hands well away from your sword and dagger.’

Harry Slide struggled to his feet. His face and hands were covered in dust. His clothes were torn and dirty from his fall, but Shakespeare could tell that they were of good quality. No, not merely good quality — but exceedingly costly. An ordinary workman would have had to give up half a year’s money in wages for such a suit, for it was of the finest cut. He ran his hand through his long hair, brushed the dust from his face and satin doublet, the colour of daffodils, then bent down to pick up his hat.

‘Hand me your sword, hilt first, then your dagger.’

Slide gave Shakespeare his weapons.

‘Now, I think you had better explain who you are.’

‘An intelligencer.’

It occurred to Shakespeare that this man was vaguely familiar. ‘Have we met, Mr Slide?’

‘I think not.’

‘Then why do I know your face?’

‘Perhaps you have seen me at Seething Lane, for I have seen you.’

It was possible. Men like Slide came day by day with tasty morsels of information to sell to Walsingham and his staff. Shakespeare let the matter pass. ‘What intelligence do you have for me?’

‘Enough. I know that you are looking for Leloup. I know, too, that the Scotsman Buchan Ord has gone missing.’

‘Tell me, Mr Slide, if you know this much, where are those two men? I would very much like to find them.’

‘If I knew that, Mr Shakespeare, I would have them arrested and brought to gaol.’

‘Where do you believe them to be?’

‘I think they are gone.’

‘If you provide me with answers like that, Mr Slide, I may very well thrust my sword through your belly for the mere pleasure of the act.’

‘What I mean is that I believe they are gone away from this region.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘My intuition, which has saved my life on many an occasion.’

‘Your intuition did not tell you I was concealed in the shade of that conker tree, ready to strike you down. I have a notion you place too much faith in this intuition of yours. And you still have not told me why you were following me.’

‘I want to offer my services to you. I know Buchan Ord’s face. I have heard his voice. None can identify him better than me and so we should work together. Mr Secretary would expect no less.’

‘If you know Buchan Ord, describe him to me.’

‘He has a pleasant Scottish accent, a fair enough face. I would know him were I to see him again, as I intend.’

‘How do you know his voice — where did you see him?’

‘I had heard of Ord from a certain friend of mine within the castle and I learnt that he was in the habit of taking his wine at the coaching inn each day — when the stink of the Scots Queen’s apartments overpowered him. And so I approached him at the Cutler’s Rest and tried to engage him in conversation. I fear my renowned charm did not succeed, for he told me he did not drink with Walsingham spies.’ Slide laughed. ‘I had not realised I was so conspicuous.’

Shakespeare looked at Harry Slide closely. He did not believe a word he said, and yet there was something about him that warranted further inquiry. Had he not known Shakespeare’s own name and the nature of his mission? ‘Do you have papers, Slide? Some proof of who you are?’

Slide grimaced. ‘Mr Shakespeare, you know the way Sir Francis works. I am no more than a kennelhound to him, used to sniff out traitors in return for scraps. He does not grace men like me with official papers, nor would he acknowledge me if I were brought to a court of law in the service of the crown.’

‘For a hound fed scraps, you have a remarkably extravagant taste in clothes.’

Slide dusted his left arm with his right hand. ‘It is a magnificent piece of tailoring, is it not? And in truth it is my downfall — the reason I undertake hazardous missions for Mr Secretary and our sovereign lady Elizabeth. If I catch a traitor, Mr Secretary will pay me twenty marks or more, and then I will have a new cloak. If I bring him intelligence concerning a seminary priest, I will have two marks in my palm. If I discover the bedroom secrets of a Privy Councillor, I may have a handful of gold and my tailor will eat rare beef. And so I find myself here in these northern wastes on a fool’s errand that will likely yield me not a farthing — and my tailor will have to wait for his money yet again.’

There was some little charm to this man. Shakespeare resisted the urge to smile.

‘And so when you were rebuffed by Mr Ord, what happened next?’

‘Why, I left him to his solitary cup of wine.’

‘And that is the sum of it?’

‘Do you take me for a coney, Mr Shakespeare? No, that was not the sum of it. I waited outside and then followed him. He led me straight to the house of a most notorious recusant gentleman, Sir Bassingbourne Bole. Do you know of him?’

Shakespeare had seen the name on a list of known Catholic sympathisers in the north, but knew nothing else of the man. He shook his head.

‘He is of little import, but it is interesting that Buchan Ord sought him out. He stayed an hour and then left, returning to the castle.’

‘Could Ord be at Sir Bassingbourne’s house now that he has fled?’

‘No.’

‘How can you be so sure, Slide?’

‘Trust me, it is certain.’

‘Come,’ Shakespeare said. ‘Let us go to the Earl of Shrewsbury and see what he makes of all this.’

Slide shrank backwards two steps. ‘I fear that is not a good plan. You must know that the earl reviles the spies sent here to watch him. He will clap me in irons.’

Shakespeare poked his chest with the tip of his sword. ‘Walk on, Mr Slide.’

‘Please, Mr Shakespeare, have you not deduced why I am come here? My mission is to divine the truth about the scandalous nightwork of the earl and the Scots Queen, to wit and to speak plain, are they conjoined in pleasure? Do they know each other carnally?’

‘What had Mr Ord to do with this?’

Slide sighed. ‘Ord is one of Mary Stuart’s most favoured courtiers. He must know almost as much as her ladies concerning her bedtime cavortings. I sought to offer him garnish for detailed intelligence about any assignments with the earl, but Mr Ord was not to be bought with good English silver. Do you not loathe these incorruptibles, Mr Shakespeare? They are the bane of a good intelligencer’s life. And now do you understand why I would rather not be taken before his lordship?’

‘It makes no difference,’ said Shakespeare, prodding him onwards. ‘You are coming with me on pain of death.’

Harry Slide made his escape among the throng of townspeople in the marketplace. He had seemed resigned to obey Shakespeare’s command and they had been walking briskly and talking of Walsingham when he suddenly darted from his side.

Shakespeare lunged after him, sword still in hand. But Slide clearly had local knowledge and slipped quickly into one of the side streets leading away from the square. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. For a quarter-hour, Shakespeare hunted him through the narrow alleys and teeming thoroughfares, but the man had vanished like a wisp on the breeze.