Andrew Swanston - The King's Spy

‘Thomas,’ replied Abraham quietly, ‘you and I serve the king, but we must accept that feelings in the town are running high. Oxford has always favoured Parliament, and the townspeople have good reason to resent the presence of the court and the army. They say there are ten thousand men and women in the colleges and the town. Some are even billeted in almshouses. Jesus is full of soldiers, All Souls is an arsenal and Brasenose a food store. We can’t walk in the meadows for artillery pieces. Every day there’s pillaging and theft. And not just by the men. The women are worse, especially the Irish and the Welsh, whom no one understands when they speak that impossible language of theirs. Do you know who your lady was?’

‘Jane Romilly, lady-in-waiting to the queen.’

‘I have met Lady Romilly. Sir Edward died at Edgehill.’

‘Her husband?’

Abraham nodded.

‘A widow, then.’

‘Yes, and by her dress she would have been marked as a member of the royal household. That’s why she went unhelped. Except by you.’

At Christ Church, they were admitted by the guards, escorted around the Great Quadrangle where lines of soldiers were at their drills, and shown to a chamber near the Great Hall, where the king had established his parliament. In defiance of the elected parliament in London, the king called it his ‘parliament’, although, in truth, it was more of a royal court, with advisers and courtiers ready to do the royal bidding. Abraham sat. Thomas stood nervously, trying to remember what Montaigne would have advised. After a couple of false starts, he had it. Au plus eslevé throne du monde, si ne sommes assis que sus nostre cul; upon the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, upon our arse . The chamber door opened and a tall man, dressed, like Abraham, entirely in black, entered. He looked about forty and carried a silver-topped cane.

‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said affably. ‘Master Fletcher, the king is expecting you. And,’ turning to Thomas, ‘you must be Master Hill. Welcome. I am Tobias Rush, adviser to his majesty.’

‘Master Rush.’ Thomas offered a small bow. So this was Rush. Abraham said nothing.

‘If you would follow me, gentlemen. His majesty is suffering a little this morning. His legs often trouble him. Your audience will perforce be brief.’

They followed Tobias Rush into the hall, where the king was seated at the far end. Oddly, Thomas had never before been inside the Great Hall of Christ Church, despite its reputation. He glanced up at the high oak beams and around at the magnificent panelling and tall windows. It was foolish of him not to have visited the hall while he had the chance. It was a room very much fit for a king. Abraham held Thomas’s arm. At Rush’s signal, they bowed low and walked slowly up the length of the room. The king, surrounded by courtiers, watched impassively. Thomas could see that he was a small man, slight of build, with a narrow face and a short pointed beard. His dark eyes showed nothing. He did not rise as they approached.

‘Your majesty,’ said their escort, ‘may I present Master Thomas Hill, with Master Fletcher, whom you know?’

The king held out a limp hand. Not knowing quite what to do with it, Thomas took it very lightly in his fingers, and bowed again. Abraham followed suit.

‘Master Hill,’ said the king in a gentle Scottish voice, ‘we are pleased that you have arrived safely. Your skills come highly recommended, and we have grave need of them. Once Master Fletcher has acquainted you with our methods, we shall depend upon you to render our orders and reports entirely secure, and to reveal the enemy’s secrets when you have the opportunity to do so. Have you anything to ask me?’ Thomas had not. ‘Master Rush will see to your needs. Ask him for whatever you require to carry out your loyal duties.’

‘I shall, your majesty.’

‘Good. Then lose no time. England’s enemies must be defeated.’

Tobias Rush nodded to Thomas, signalling the end of the audience. The three men took two steps backwards, Abraham holding on tightly, bowed, then turned and left the hall.

Outside, Rush escorted them to the college entrance. ‘His majesty has instructed me to provide you with whatever you need, Master Hill. Is your room adequate? Food, wine, company, you have but to ask.’

‘Thank you, sir. I shall be sure to do so.’ Thomas wondered if he should mention Captain Fayne.

‘Excellent. We’re much relieved that you’re here. I never trusted Erasmus Pole,’ said Rush, ‘and told the king so more than once. I wasn’t surprised that his body was found in that vile lane. He was a man of odd habits.’

Thomas glanced at Abraham, who was silent. At the gate, Rush shook their hands and watched them turn towards Pembroke. As they did so, two riders, yelling at them to get out of the way, swept past and into the college. Both wore pale blue hats with long feathers, and dark blue coats festooned with ribbons and lace.

‘Sounds like the royal princes,’ said Abraham, drily. ‘Rupert and Maurice. Probably boasting about their exploits in Bristol. If they aren’t drunk, they soon will be. The king should send them back where they came from.’

‘Who were all those people around the king, Abraham?’ asked Thomas.

‘I couldn’t see them, but the king has a full court. The Master of the Revels was probably there, and William Dobson, the court painter. He’s much in demand, I hear. Unspeakably vain, some young men these days. Care to have your portrait painted, Thomas? Rush could arrange it.’

‘I think not, thank you. Although it sounds as if Tobias Rush could arrange anything. What do you know of him?’

‘Rush is not to my taste, but the king relies on him,’ replied Abraham as they entered Pembroke. ‘He organizes the king’s affairs and runs his household. He’s skilled at playing on the king’s insecurity. He’s a clever man, and an ambitious one. Treat him with caution, Thomas.’

‘I certainly shall. Now, when shall we start work?’

‘This morning. I’ll have food and wine sent to my rooms. Silas will escort me there. Come in an hour.’

An hour later they were seated at Abraham’s table, a pile of papers before them. ‘Since the king came to Oxford,’ the old man began, ‘we’ve been using substitution ciphers devised and developed by Erasmus. The ciphers are based on an eight-letter keyword, changed on the first day of each month. In the final week of the month, Erasmus sent out the first four letters of the new keyword, encoded according to the current keyword and hidden in the text of the message. Each recipient then sent back four more letters, also encoded and hidden, to make up the full keyword.’

‘So each recipient has a unique keyword, which lasts for a month?’

‘That is right. It means that we have to know from whom each message has come, but that is easily dealt with. Each message carries the encrypted name of the sender, again hidden in the text. Each name has its own codeword. If one forgets to include his name, we simply use all the current keywords until we find the right one for the text.’

‘There are weaknesses in this, Abraham, as you know. The messages carrying either half of the new keyword might not arrive, and a list of all current keywords and codewords must have been kept somewhere.’

‘Indeed they were. Inside Erasmus’s head. He never wrote them down. As to the other point, we’ve had no serious difficulties. Process of elimination and a bit of guesswork have sufficed.’

‘How many keywords are there?’

‘Currently, twenty.’

Thomas looked thoughtful. Twenty names with fixed codes, and twenty different keywords each month. Not difficult. Abraham passed Thomas the top sheet of paper.