Andrew Swanston - The King's Spy

The garden was tended by a dozen gardeners in leather jerkins and straw hats. It, at least, had so far survived the ravages of war, although at the end of a hot summer it was showing signs of fatigue. Jane and Thomas walked between tidy beds of lavender and violets, and around a patch of mallows. Jane picked a stem of St John’s wort. ‘And how do you occupy yourself in Oxford, Thomas, when you are not with Master Fletcher?’ she asked.

‘Abraham has given me work to do. It keeps me busy.’

‘You told Francis Fayne that you are on the king’s business. May I enquire what business it is?’

Thomas sighed. ‘Jane, this is awkward. My work is known to very few — the king, Abraham, Simon de Pointz, Master Rush. I should not tell you.’

‘I have entrusted you with a secret, Thomas. Can you not entrust me with one?’

He hesitated. Abraham’s censure or Jane’s approval. He chose the middle ground. ‘I studied mathematics here, as well as philosophy, and have been asked to devise a new group of codes and ciphers.’

‘Somehow I knew you would be doing that kind of work. Scholarly and solitary. Is it difficult?’

‘Not really. Not too difficult, even a bit dull.’

‘No vital secrets?’

‘No, no, nothing like that. My role is very minor.’

‘I’m sure you underestimate the value of your work. You must be very good at it, or the king would not have given you the responsibility. You will take care, Thomas, won’t you? The queen says that Oxford is full of spies, and the king trusts almost no one. I imagine you would be in danger if your work were known.’

‘I shall certainly take care, Jane. As should you. I might not be at hand next time you start an unseemly brawl in the street.’

Arm in arm, they strolled around the garden, stopping occasionally to examine one plant or another. Jane told Thomas the Latin name for each one, which he repeated and then immediately forgot. He could not be expected to concentrate on herbs and flowers with this ravishing lady on his arm. He racked his brains for something suitable to contribute to the discussion, and, as usual, it was Montaigne who came to the rescue. ‘Gardens and philosophers are often friends,’ he said. ‘Michel de Montaigne said that he wanted to meet death when he was tending his cabbages.’

‘Did he? What did he mean by that?’

‘That he was happiest with his cabbages, I suppose, and hoped that was where he would be when he died.’

‘What a wise gentleman.’

‘Yes. I find him a great support in life. Would you care to borrow a book of his essays?’

‘Thank you, Thomas. If you find him a support, I’m sure I shall too.’

Back at Merton, Thomas took his leave outside the Warden’s lodgings. ‘Do call again soon, Thomas,’ said Jane, before disappearing inside. Thomas turned to go. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of a black-clad figure ducking into a doorway on the other side of the courtyard. He was sure it was Tobias Rush. But why would Rush not want to be seen? There must be times when he had reason to visit the queen. Had he seen Thomas with Jane? What if he had? Why hide? Thinking that he must have been mistaken, Thomas was about to return to Pembroke when Jane came running out. ‘Thomas, Thomas,’ she called, ‘the queen wishes to meet you again. Come. I will take you in.’ And before he could say anything, she took his hand and led him into the Warden’s house.

In the Warden’s receiving room, the queen was sitting on a crimson cushion set upon a large oak chair. Around her sat her spaniels and behind her stood two ladies-in-waiting. There was no sign of dwarves. Thomas bowed and stood before her. In a long gown of cream silk, her auburn hair teased into ringlets around her face, and wearing pearls in her ears and at her throat, she looked every inch the Queen of England. When she spoke, however, it was with a hint of a French accent, which he had not noticed at the masque. ‘Master Hill. A pleasure to meet you again. Lady Jane tells me you are interested in gardens.’ Thomas glanced at Jane and saw the twinkle. Wicked woman.

‘Indeed, your majesty. And I have found her to be an excellent tutor. On matters philosophical as well as botanical.’

The queen looked at Jane in surprise. ‘Really, Jane? I was not aware that you took an interest in such matters.’

‘Oh yes, your majesty,’ replied Jane with a grin at Thomas. ‘I am particularly fond of Michel de Montaigne. I find him a great support in life.’

‘How sensible of you to rely upon a Frenchman, my dear. We are a most practical race.’ The queen turned to Thomas. ‘And what do you do in Oxford, Master Hill, when you are not walking with Lady Jane?’

‘I am his majesty’s cryptographer. I deal with messages and despatches coming in and going out.’

‘Indeed. I recall his majesty mentioning the matter. Was it your predecessor who was found in an alleyway?’

‘I fear so, your majesty. Erasmus Pole.’

‘I trust such a fate will not befall you, Master Hill.’

‘As do I.’

‘Alas, there are many in Oxford who do not share my faith or understand the king’s resolve to carry out his duty. The king is a most honourable man and a courageous one. He would rather die than surrender his throne and his right to rule the country. On this, he will not compromise.’

‘I believe the country understands this, your majesty.’

‘Does it?’ The queen sat for a moment in silence; then a broad smile lit up her face. ‘I brought three thousand men to Oxford, you know. They called me the Generalissima for it. I rather like the name, don’t you?’

‘I am sure it is meant as a compliment.’

‘So am I. Do take care in Oxford, Master Hill, and take care of Jane Romilly. She is very dear to me. Now, I must be about my affairs. Good day, Master Hill.’

‘Good day, your majesty.’ Thomas bowed again, took two steps backwards, then turned and left, hoping this was roughly what he was supposed to do. Jane escorted him to the door. Outside, he said, ‘A little more warning next time, if you please, madam. Unlike you, I am unaccustomed to being in the royal presence.’

‘Your conduct did you credit, Thomas. What did you make of the Generalissima?’

‘I would not care to cross her. Formidable, I believe, is the word for her in both English and French.’

‘She has a kind heart. And she is quite devoted to the king, as he is to her.’

‘Is she always accompanied by waiting ladies and plump spaniels?’

‘Always.’ Jane reached up and lightly kissed Thomas’s cheek. ‘ Au revoir , Thomas.’ And she was gone before Thomas thought to mention Rush.

At Pembroke, any hope of reaching his room unimpeded was swiftly dashed by the sight of Fayne lounging in the courtyard with what looked like a group of fawning admirers. He stood half a head taller than any of them and was evidently holding court. His voice carried easily around the yard, bouncing off the wall of the chapel at the northern end. ‘She’s a pretty wench, and most accommodating. Knows a trick or two, I can tell you. I find it’s the high-born ones who do. The tavern girls could learn a lot from them.’ Fayne looked up and saw Thomas. If his audience were hoping to hear more about the high-born lady, they were dis appointed. Fayne pushed past them and strode up to Thomas, blocking the route to his room. Unless Thomas’s nose betrayed him, the man had taken strong drink, and a good deal of it. He smelt like a brewery.

‘Well, well. The bookseller has returned to us. Just what we need in time of war, gentlemen, eh? A bookseller. Bound to strike fear into the hearts of the enemy. Perhaps we should have a regiment of them.’ Fayne and his companions laughed loudly.

For a moment, Thomas was tempted to land a punch on the grinning face. What he lacked in height, he more than made up for in speed and skill, and he knew he could put Fayne on his back without undue difficulty. That, of course, was what the vile creature wanted — a reason to have him thrown out of the college — and his companions would swear to a man that the blow was unprovoked. Thomas stepped aside and carried on towards his room, ignoring the vulgar jeers that followed him.