Rory Clements - The Queen's man

Once away from the Arden Lodge estate, they rode at a sedate pace. Instead of taking the road to Shottery or Stratford, they headed north and east, keeping to less travelled paths and tracks through woods, away from fields where men and women would be working. They saw a few people at a distance, but took circuitous routes to avoid them. It had been years since Shakespeare had seen these ancient ways, but he knew his route as though he still rode them day by day.

Audrey Angel was at the Black House with Anne and Will. She quickly took her daughter in her arms and helped her into a corner to comfort her. Shakespeare watched them with an uneasy churning in his belly. His aunt did not look well and the daughter was in a bad way. He turned to Will and Anne. ‘What have you brought?’

‘Food, bedding and candles,’ Will said. ‘The plan is that Anne stays here while I return to Stratford and come back later, by horse, bringing more supplies.’

‘Yes. It is better that Anne stays with them, at least to begin with.’ It would make it seem more like a friend helping friends than an illegal abduction. ‘This is a good place, Will. What made you think of it?’

Will gave him a wry look as if to say: You know what made me think of it .

Shakespeare took a swift look around the dilapidated, overgrown building. There was a partially covered area at the back where a rough mattress of straw and canvas held the eye. It was almost a habitable room. If the roof could be restored, it would also be watertight. In one corner, Will had already laid a fire, and had set out the foodstuffs and candles. They could stay here — but for how long? It depended on what influence Audrey and Anne could bring to bear on Florence. She was in desperate need of care and the danger of returning home was too great. They must stay here until a better option presented itself.

He went over to Florence, who was still in her mother’s arms and knelt down. ‘Florence, answer me one thing: what was in the Mary of Scots letter?’

He didn’t think she had heard him, but then her face emerged, heavy-lidded, from her mother’s breast. ‘It was a letter to the faithful, not to you.’ She turned her wretched face back into Audrey’s body, like a snail drawing back into its shell.

Shakespeare’s face stiffened. He walked over to his brother.

‘This isn’t going as you hoped, John.’

‘No. I open one door and another closes. I may have to leave Stratford at a moment’s notice. If I do, I will send messages via Henley Street. Boltfoot will stay here with you for at least today and tonight. He was a cooper by trade, so if the roof leaks, he may be able to fix it. Whatever you need, I trust he will do all he can. You already know his fighting skills. .’

‘Thank you, John.’ Will paused and then added awkwardly, ‘I know what agonies you are going through, trying to protect us. You are split down the middle.’

‘No, Will, you don’t understand. For me, this is very simple. It is about my family and my country. Anyone who threatens either is my enemy. Whatever Florence believes, this is not about religion. I cannot pretend to like the Roman Church.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Nor can I pretend to like Florence Angel or to have liked her fool of a brother. And yet that does not give the murderous Hungate the right or liberty to hunt down her or any other Catholic like a dog. It is treason I abhor, not religion. Which is why I must now hold my nose and go to Charlecote Park.’

Sir Thomas Lucy lounged back in his throne-like chair of carved oak and allowed himself a smug moment of triumph. ‘So you come as a supplicant, do you, Mr Shakespeare? It is always gratifying to see a self-satisfied young man brought so low that he begs me for assistance.’

‘Have it as you wish, Sir Thomas.’

‘And you say you want me to raise a squadron of pursuivants for you to search Arden Lodge.’

‘Yes. Treason is being plotted. There is little time.’

‘Treason? That is a strong word. A mighty unpleasant word. I had thought Edward Arden to be kin of yours.’

‘My loyalty is to England and the Queen.’

‘So what is your evidence for this supposed plotting? I am a justice of the peace, charged with upholding the law of the land. I cannot order searches of men’s houses on your whim.’

‘I have reasons, good reasons.’

‘Then name them.’

Shakespeare frowned at Lucy. He had the leisurely, disinterested air of some eastern potentate, who cared nothing for such small matters. And yet Shakespeare knew that Sir Thomas very much wished to destroy all the Ardens, and Edward Arden in particular. And his master, the Earl of Leicester, had said the Ardens were all vipers. So why would Sir Thomas balk at the opportunity to authorise a raid on Arden Lodge? Had he not himself called Edward Arden a traitor — and was it not Sir Thomas who sent Badger Rench to watch Arden Lodge? He must know about the conspiracy.

‘The fugitive priest Benedict Angel was hidden there,’ Shakespeare said. ‘And there is a powerful connection to events at Sheffield Castle. The dead man found in the river this day is a Frenchman named François Leloup, who recently came from the Queen of Scots. I believe, too, that one of her courtiers, a young man named Buchan Ord, is at the house. These are dangerous men who wish ill to England.’

‘Oh, what a tale you weave, Mr Shakespeare! Frenchmen, Scotsmen, fugitive priests and dead bodies. Next you will be writing plays for the stage.’

‘This is no play, Sir Thomas.’

‘Then prove it to me. Show me the evidence of mischief. How do you know these French and Scots demons have taken possession of Arden Lodge? Where is the evidence of conspiracy?’

Shakespeare glared. What evidence did he have, other than the testimony of Anne Hathaway, an encrypted letter bearing the name Marie R and the dubious word of an intelligencer named Harry Slide, who now seemed to have thrown in his lot with Arden? He had no evidence that he could reveal. Only suspicion, and the evidence of his own eyes.

‘I saw them saddling up, loading armaments.’ He tried to keep his tone even. ‘If I take a band of pursuivants, we will find evidence aplenty. If I am right, then they are about to ride north to secure the release of the Scots Queen. We could stop them now.’

‘No. That is not enough. Edward Arden is an important personage in this county, not some vagabond to be hauled in at will.’

‘Are you willing to risk this? Do you want this brought back to you when I report to Mr Secretary that you refused me assistance? If we go now, this plot can be nipped in the bud. And you will have Edward Arden where you and my lord of Leicester have always wanted him: beneath your heel.’

Lucy was tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. ‘Bring me proof, then I will act.’

Shakespeare was stunned into silence. A short while ago, Sir Thomas Lucy would have happily stretched any law to bring about the demise of Edward Arden. Why, now, was he refusing to move against him? Shakespeare snapped his head into a curt bow, then turned away.

‘Wait, Mr Shakespeare. I am glad you have come, for there is one other matter. .’

He stopped. ‘Sir Thomas?’

‘It is about one of my men, Mr Thomas Rench, known as Badger. If you recall, he was the man who escorted you to me. It appears he is missing.’

‘Tell me more.’

‘I was hoping you might know what became of him.’

‘No. I have no notion. Why would I know anything?’

‘He had some history with your family. I believe he was unhappy when your disreputable brother took up with Mistress Hathaway. What do you think might have happened to him?’