Rory Clements - The Queen's man

Hungate’s mouth smiled, but his eyes did not. He stared at Shakespeare as a cat might watch a bird in a cage. ‘Why, Mr Shakespeare,’ he said at last. ‘I kill people for him.’

Sir Thomas Lucy laughed, but the sound was forced. ‘Come now, Mr Hungate, our guest has no appetite for your jests. He has suffered quite enough this day.’

‘Then I shall avoid killing him until another day, Sir Thomas. In deference to your hospitality and the unsightliness of blood on your fine floor. Also, because I have a few questions to ask the malodorous cur while he yet lives. Tell me, Shakespeare, what do you know of Benedict Angel and his family?’

‘I know that Benedict was a popish priest and fugitive. I know, too, that his sister and mother are sore troubled by the wanton destruction of their home by pursuivants.’

‘How else are you to seek fugitives but by seeking out their hidey-holes? If they crawl like lice into the cracks of houses, then the houses must be pulled down to get at them. But tell me more: when did you first meet them?’

With Benedict dead there seemed no harm in answering. ‘I think it must have been eleven or twelve years ago, when they arrived in Shottery and Benedict joined me at the King’s New School in Stratford.’

‘Where had they come from?’

‘I do not believe I was ever told. From their voices I might deduce they were southern. But I believe they came to Warwickshire because Mistress Angel has kin in this region.’ He did not mention that those relatives included his own family.

‘And their name was always Angel, not Angelus?’

‘You will have to ask them that yourself. What is your interest, Mr Hungate, now that the supposed traitor is dead?’

‘And the father, what of him? Is he still alive? What is his business?’

‘Mistress Angel was already a widow when they arrived. It is said the father had been murdered. But this is all a long time ago, and that is all I know.’ Shakespeare turned away from Hungate and directed his attention once more to Sir Thomas. ‘Was there some reason for asking Badger Rench to bring me here?’

‘It is the matter of this priest, the ill-named Angel. It has come to my attention that you have thought fit to assume some sort of authority in the investigation of the death.’

‘As you must know, I am in the service of Her Majesty. I will not explain myself to anyone save Sir Francis Walsingham, my master, and certainly not the likes of Ananias Nason.’

‘I heard that the Angels are kin to you.’

Shakespeare shrugged. He had been expecting the question. ‘What of it? Most folk around here are kin if you go back far enough.’

‘But Audrey Angel has Arden blood, does she not?’

Shakespeare ignored the question.

‘And I heard, too, that you had called upon the son of the diabolical Mother Peace to try his necromancy and devilish tricks on the corpse.’

‘Mr Peace has a fine, inquiring mind. It was he who discovered that Benedict Angel was murdered by garrotting with hempen rope.’

‘That is not the story I heard and nor will I believe it. But this is certain, Mr Shakespeare: I am the authority in these parts and I will not have you dealing with local matters that are no concern of yours. The death will be dealt with by the coroner and myself, in my role as justice. No other inquiries will be made by you. From what Mr Nason tells me, there is no cause for inquiry anyway. It seems the papist traitor choked himself to death or hanged himself with his superstitious beads. Whether he caught himself inadvertently on some low branch or whether it was deliberate is for the coroner to decide. His accidental death — or suicide — saved the hangman a task. My lord of Leicester will not be displeased by the news. Is that understood?’

‘No, Sir Thomas, it is not understood. I have been sent here by Mr Secretary, who is your superior in all things. I will not be diverted from my inquiries by you or any man.’ He met the gaze of Hungate and repeated the last two words. ‘ Any man . Is that understood?’

‘God damn you, Shakespeare, I am trying to be civil!’ Sir Thomas Lucy rose from his seat and hammered his fist on the table. ‘I know why you are here. My lord of Leicester has sent me letters requiring me to assist you in sniffing out popish treason. But you will be working for me and you will do my bidding. You will not go your own way.’

‘Sniffing out popish treason. . is that what you were doing when you sent Rench and a band of pursuivants to destroy the house of Audrey Angel and her daughter? Or were you tormenting an innocent family for the benefit of your ally Rafe Rench?’

Sir Thomas was speechless. Blood rushed to his face and a vein began to throb in his forehead.

Shakespeare rose from his seat. He had had enough of this place. He would find a way back to Stratford, even if he had to walk the five miles unaided.

‘Sit down, Shakespeare. I have not finished with you yet. Hold him, Mr Hungate.’

‘I am going and you can do nothing. You have no power over me. Everyone knows I was brought here. Harm me further and there will be a heavy price to pay — even for one as notable as you. Do not underestimate the reach of Mr Secretary.’

Hungate did not move from his seat. His feet were on the table, ankles crossed, hands behind his head. He appeared to be enjoying the spectacle.

Sir Thomas grasped hold of Shakespeare’s shoulder, but Shakespeare spun round and his hand went to the other man’s throat. ‘Do not trifle with me, Sir Thomas. I have had enough of your foul hospitality this day.’

Breaking free from Shakespeare’s grip, Sir Thomas Lucy’s hand went to the hilt of his dagger. But Hungate’s hand shot out and grasped his wrist. He shook his head.

Sir Thomas held back from Shakespeare, though he still seethed with anger. ‘You are Arden through and through. Like a plague of flies. I should have let Badger have his way with you.’

‘Then you both would have been arraigned for murder and hanged from the same gibbet. As it is, I shall see that Rench is brought before court for what he has done.’

‘No man here will arrest Badger Rench. That I can promise you. And if you try, then you and yours will feel the lash of my fury. Your brother might have escaped justice once, but it will not happen again.’

Shakespeare turned once more, and swung his aching body towards the door.

‘Your brother is a mongrel, do you hear me?’ Lucy roared behind him. ‘Take the filthy dog in hand or I will do it for you soon enough.’

Shakespeare turned violently. ‘My family has nothing to do with any of this!’

‘He has too great an interest in country matters, I say. First he poaches my stags, now he plucks the doe Hathaway. He will make her honest in short order, or I will have them both in the stocks. We are not brute beasts in this county; there will be no bastards born here without consequences.’

A bluecoat arrived with brandy. Shakespeare took a goblet from the tray and downed it in one. ‘My brother was found innocent of poaching, as I recall.’

‘The jury were dogs, too. They will also suffer.’

‘I thought you believed in the rule of law, Sir Thomas, being a justice of the peace.’

Sir Thomas Lucy ran a hand through his hair, his back arched and stiff with wounded dignity. ‘Then the matter of the stag is forgotten, for the law is always right. But he is not forgiven. Nor will he escape a charge of fornication so easily. You come from tainted stock, Shakespeare. Your father is a recusant, your brother is a debauched mongrel and your cousins Edward Arden and William Catesby are traitors, which I will prove. They harbour priests and those who would do our sovereign lady harm. They are a disease upon the body of Warwickshire and England. Get you gone, sir.’