James Forrester - The Roots of Betrayal

Walsingham bowed. “Greetings, Sir William. I am glad of your return.”

“The feeling is mutual. If I am to be hounded day and night by requests and complaints, let it at least be in the comfort of my own home. But even so, look.” Cecil held up the pile of papers. He flicked among them, found one, and opened it, passing it to his protégé, setting the rest on the table. “Trade with the Low Countries is on the point of collapse. The Merchant Adventurers cannot access the ports because the Hanse has reimposed trade restrictions. It means Spanish intervention, of course; we all know it but we cannot say it. And that is the least of my worries. What am I to do about the earl of Hertford and Lady Katherine Gray, the queen’s cousin? Hales’s book has just made everything ten times worse.”

“I am sorry, Sir William. Hales’s book? You’ll have to forgive me. Who is Hales?”

Cecil walked across to a table beside the window, where a pair of silver goblets was standing next to a lidded pewter wine flagon. He filled one and quaffed it. “When Lady Katherine Gray gave birth, she confessed to my wife’s sister that the father was Lord Hertford and that Hertford had secretly married her in a Catholic ceremony.”

“That was at least two years ago.”

“Indeed. But do you recall the consequence-that trial, at which the marriage was declared void? Lord Hertford was found guilty of violating a virgin of the royal family.”

“It’s not the sort of thing one forgets,” said Walsingham. “He was fined fifteen thousand pounds. For sleeping with his wife.”

“Quite. His wife just happened to be the queen’s cousin, and the queen…Well, you know what I think. My suspicion is that our queen would rather neither of her cousins have any children, so there are no potential heirs to rival whomsoever she eventually chooses. So when Lady Katherine takes matters into her own hands…” Cecil gestured to suggest his frustration. “But the queen’s spite has no basis in law.” He took a deep breath. “A man called John Hales has written a pamphlet pointing out that Lady Katherine’s children should be recognized in the order of succession. Privately, I agree. I had Lord Hertford transferred to Hanworth last year, on the pretext of there being an outbreak of the plague, and placed him in the keeping of his stepfather, Francis Newdigate. I was trying to lessen the injustice of her majesty’s ire. Now it turns out that Newdigate has involved himself in the composition of Hales’s book. I have here letters from Newdigate, Lord Hertford, and John Hales all seeking clemency and intervention. Even that damned Robert Dudley has written one. The queen is isolated-and yet she wants me to bring charges of treason against them. It is a disaster. I am meant to arrange for Hales to be found guilty. Ultimately Hertford is guilty of nothing more than falling in love. Frankly, having seen Lady Katherine, I cannot blame him. She could easily make traitors of us all.”

Cecil paused and took another gulp of wine. “Hales’s only offense is to point out the legal situation that automatically follows on from them marrying-which no one can deny they have done, with witnesses, and willingly. That the queen does not like it does not render it unlawful: we do not follow Roman Law in this kingdom but our own Common Law. It is hardly surprising that there are plots against her. It’s not made any easier by the fact that she won’t marry. She has said categorically that she will not marry one of her own subjects. So what are we to do? We look overseas. I favor the house of Austria. Throckmorton, from whom I have just received yet another letter, says that he too favors Austria. Roger Strange favors Austria. Robert Dudley also favors Austria. And what does the queen say? ‘No, Sir William, not Austria.’ I despair.”

“I am all the more sorry to be the one who bears you further reason to frown.”

“Francis, you are not sorry. It is a constant delight to you, to bring me new challenges. But I trust you not to bother me with trifles. That is why I came back as soon as I could.”

“Thank you. This concerns the dowager countess of Northumberland. You asked that I keep her ladyship under close watch. Several weeks ago I instructed two young men from Oxford to take up lodgings in the area and monitor the movements of those coming and going to her at Sheffield Manor. The day before yesterday, one of them, George Latham, came to me. He had ridden hard, changing horses, and was in a terrible state. Three days earlier, on the thirtieth, he and his companion noticed a messenger riding through the rain toward Sheffield-a man whom they had previously seen carrying messages to her ladyship. And so they moved to intercept him. They caught up with him at Melton Mowbray, in an inn. The messenger killed Latham’s companion, and then was himself killed. When Latham searched the corpse, he found a message. The original was soiled in the man’s blood, but here is a copy.”

Walsingham reached inside his doublet and pulled out a neatly folded paper. He walked closer and handed it to Cecil, who opened it. In neat black pen was written the following:

CCCCX›CCDCCICCCIIIMMCII-‹\CCCCCC-,

/IMMMD\C\ICCCCMMV/CMMMCCX+II–CCVI–CCCC-

‹-XI-/C\ICCCCX, MMMDCCCCI‹DX\, MMMLCCCC\

CCCMMMXCCCC+-CCCC‹XIVMMV, /DCCIIX/\

IIXMMMIIXMMMMX,›D\/\IICCVDMMMCC-›V,D\

CCCC-MMMD\CCCC-DCC-‹VDCC\MMX‹DCCCC-

VMMMICCCC-D\IMMMMMM\DCCVDC\IV, /II-D\›-

DCCCCCCCCCX›CCD-LL-‹DXDMMMDCCCCIDCCMMMCC-

‹DXDMMMDCCCCIDCCMMMCC–IIXMMMMIII-/-MMM+

VD‹CC-/IIICMMMCCX+X, DCC-‹\CCC+V, C\LCCCC\

III–CCCCDMM\IILCCCC\CCCMM\, /\, D\MMMV, /IIX‹

CCV, /DCC–CCCC-‹CCV, ›-/D\VIMMMMMMMMIII\I,/L\

CCCCMMM‹\DMMV, /IICC–CCCC–I+\, MMMCC–IIXMMMM‹

\, LXCCCCCCCCC–CCCCVCCCCCCCCXIVMMIIXDCCC\

ICCCCCCCC-+CCCC-MMM-, DVDXI-MMMMMMCC-

IIXMMMMMM-VI–LCCCC\CCCMM\, /\, VD/VII, \, DCC-

MMM-I-,DCCDCCVDII–CCCVCIII-MMMICCCC–C\

IIIXMMMMMMM-, /C\ICCCCCCCC-+CCCC-MMM-,

DVDXI-MMMD\CC\MMCCCCC\\/II–III-›C\IMMM-,

/II\CCCC/IIICDCCXMMMMMMVCCC–CCC-MMMMMM-,

›-CCCC›\/MMM+- /C\ICCCCMMV/CMMMCCX+C\

ICCCC/-I\D-/MMM-CCCCIV, DMMM+- CCCC‹CCCCC\C

Cecil glanced at him. “Is it a cipher? Or a code?”

“I do not know yet. But whichever it is, it shows that Lady Percy is involved with Catholic plots again. She is communicating in secret with someone south of Melton Mowbray, probably here in London. And this new development must be serious. Normally her agents use cut-out templates that relate to commonly available books. To decipher those, all we need is the name of the book and the relevant page numbers, and often that can be determined by a search of the sender’s and recipient’s premises, coupled with some persuasive questioning. This is different. It is hard to decide whether it is a cipher or a code-because it is based partly on Roman numerals and partly on symbols. If it is a cipher, it is not a straightforward one.”

Cecil studied the document. “There are repetitions nonetheless. I see a few instances of ‘DCC-.’ It should not be too difficult.”

Walsingham stood beside Cecil, pointing with his finger. “But there are six consecutive appearances of the letter ‘C’; here, seven; and here eight of the letter ‘M.’ No word has a treble letter in it, let alone six, seven, or eight. These are Roman numerals. And that is where the problem lies, for there is no easy way to determine whether ‘CCCCC’ is one word or one letter, or two letters, or two words or a single number representing a sentence. Likewise the appearance of ‘IV’-is that one letter, one word, or two?”