Rory Clements - The Queen's man

‘His name is Boltfoot Cooper. I set him to find Florence Angel. He has told me everything about the unfortunate incident with Badger Rench. I don’t have time to have Boltfoot retrace your trail for me. Tell me everything.’

‘We went to Arden Lodge,’ Will said.

‘And was Florence there, too?’

‘I believe so,’ Anne said. ‘Though we did not see her, I saw her rosary — or one very like it. Something is happening at that house.’

‘Who else was there? John Somerville with his pistol? Cousin Edward?’

‘Yes. And perhaps one more.’

‘One more? Who?’ Shakespeare’s questions came urgent and fast.

‘A Scotsman.’

‘Buchan Ord?’

‘I don’t know his name. We did not see him, but Somerville mentioned him.’

Shakespeare clenched his hand into a fist and looked for something — someone — to beat. ‘You realise that I have come a hundred miles to find this man? Was there a Frenchman there, too? Will, Anne, what are you involved in? This man Buchan Ord is a courtier to Mary, Queen of Scots. I believe he and the Frenchman I seek are plotting to free her. From what you say, Edward Arden, John Somerville and Florence Angel are part of the same conspiracy. And then — ’ he could barely speak for the spit and fury that flecked his mouth — ‘and then you kill a man and bury him in a field.’

‘Badger was about to kill us,’ protested Will. ‘Your man saved us and stabbed him to death.’

‘I truly hope you buried him deep.’

‘Not deep enough. We had naught but sticks for spades.’

Shakespeare sighed. ‘We will deal with that presently. Now, let us go back. My man Mr Cooper says Badger Rench was outside Arden Lodge.’

‘That is what he told us, too.’

The question that had to be answered was why Rench was there. Was this Sir Thomas Lucy’s doing? Or had he been looking for Will and Anne, consumed by jealousy? Lucy seemed the most likely option, which meant he had at least a powerful suspicion of what was going on at Arden Lodge — if not the whole story. By now he was probably aware that his man was missing, and would soon believe him murdered. Where did that leave Will and Anne? On the scaffold. .

‘If they don’t find the body, no one will know we were there or even that he is dead,’ Will said hopefully.

‘Will, at times your mouth belies the wit you keep closeted in your head. When Arden and Somerville and Florence Angel are arrested and racked, do you not think they might mention who else was there at the house last night? God in heaven!’ Shakespeare slammed his fist down on the table in front of Will.

‘What can we do?’

‘First, you must start being honest with me. Everything. Not little scraps of information like grain fed to chickens. Hold nothing back, nothing at all. Why were you there? How deeply are you involved? Who else knows? What did the Mary of Scots letter really say — and why did you have it? I need honest answers and perhaps then we can begin to devise some route out of this blood-drenched maze.’

At last Shakespeare sat down. The bliss of the night with Kat Whetstone had evaporated faster than water thrown on fire. ‘Anne, bring me a cup of something strong. Beer, brandy. . anything.’ As she went to the kitchen, he jabbed his finger at his brother. ‘Will, I know you understand my anger and my fear. I know that you have been led into this unwittingly. But you must now become a man. You have no time to ease into this new role. And you must play your part to perfection, not just for your own sake, but for Anne’s, too, and for your unborn child. Look after them. Anne is as taut as linen on a tenter. If we are not careful, she will lose the babe.’

Will exhaled loudly. ‘Brother, there is another matter I must confide in you. . the reason we went to Arden Lodge. Our cousins have a hold over Anne.’ He paused. ‘Do you know of the Spiritual Testaments?’

‘You mean the ones brought over by the Jesuits Campion and Persons? How could I not know, Will? They brought them over by the thousand.’ Shakespeare threw back his head. ‘She didn’t sign one, did she?’

Will nodded slowly, his face etched with pain.

‘I had no idea she was even a Catholic.’

‘She isn’t. She went to mass with Florence. Many people from hereabouts were there. They all became inflamed with the fervour of the moment and signed the damnable testament.’

Shakespeare did not try to conceal his bewilderment. ‘Why do people do this? At best, it is like walking about with a sign around their neck saying “Look at me, I am a recusant and care nothing for your laws”. At worst, it is like walking about with a noose around your neck. And most certain of all, your name will be added to the list of potential enemies, to remain there for evermore. The list is everything. .’

Will smiled ruefully. ‘The old man signed one last year.’

‘Our own father?’

‘He showed it to me and asked me what I thought. I told him to destroy it.’

‘Did he do so?’

‘I do not know. As to the one Anne signed, she regretted it immediately, for it is now in the possession of Edward Arden and whoever else inhabits that seminary of conspiracy he runs at Arden Lodge. That was why she agreed to look after the Mary of Scots letter. That is why we went there again last night. I even pleaded kinship, though the Lord knows I never liked the man.’

Shakespeare sighed and clasped a hand on his brother’s right shoulder, his anger gone. If any of them were to survive, they must bring cold logic to bear. ‘Will, we must deal with this piece by piece. My first duty is to my master and my sovereign, but we will find a way out of this for you and Anne. For all of us.’ He knew he must concentrate on Arden Lodge, for that was at the heart of this unholy mess. He would have to pay it another visit, this time armed and with Boltfoot at his side. He gripped Will’s shoulder tighter. ‘You called it a seminary of conspiracy?’

Will snorted. ‘That’s what it is. Everyone knows it. The supposed gardener, Hugh Hall, is a popish priest sent from Rome or Rheims. Benedict Angel was there for months. Dibdale has been there; and it is said Campion spent time there before moving on to Lapworth. I tell you, John, I do believe that Catholics in this county outnumber Protestants by two to one. No one knows which way to turn.’

‘If everyone knows of the events at Arden Lodge, Sir Thomas Lucy must know it, too.’

‘I am sure he does.’

‘Then why have the pursuivants not been in to tear it apart? Why have they not all been arrested and slung in the Tower?’

‘That is a good question — and one for which I have no answer.’

Just then Shakespeare and his brother heard a cry. They looked towards the doorway to see Anne standing there, cup in hand. But she was not alone. At one side stood Richard Topcliffe, white-haired and grinning with yellow teeth, his blackthorn stick idly tapping the floor. At the other, with his pale hand on her shoulder, stood Ruby Hungate, his harlequin doublet bringing unwelcome colour to a drab day.

Hungate pushed Anne forward. She stumbled. As she tried to regain her footing, Hungate’s sword flashed and swirled in a steel spiral of light. A thick lock of Anne’s hair flew from the back of her head and Hungate caught it. He kissed it elegantly, put it in the palm of his hand and blew so that the strands dispersed into the still air like a dandelion clock. ‘You see how simple that was? Next time I’ll prick the bastard from her belly.’

Will roared and tried to lunge at Hungate, but Shakespeare shot out a restraining arm. ‘No, Will.’

Anne turned and faced Hungate with contempt.

‘Well, well,’ Topcliffe said, ‘what do we have here? Hugger-mugger like conspirators. And who is this?’ He jutted his white grizzled head towards Will. ‘From the vague similarity, I would take him for your brother. Is this the dog that did the dirty deed with comely Miss Hathaway and got her with child?’ He slapped Anne’s arse, making her jolt.