Rory Clements: The Heretics

‘Whatever it is, you will tell me.’

‘Yes, I will. I say just this in my defence. I have known such fear and horror that I cannot bear to even think on it. I know you have done many brave things, Mr Shakespeare, but they were manly feats of arms. I know, too, from Simon Forman that you suffered one night at their wicked hands. But what I endured was the destruction of my soul, piece by piece over many months.’

‘The exorcisms?’

‘I thought you were sent by them to bring me back. I thought this time they would finish what was started and kill me.’

‘But, Mistress Jade, your tormentors were all captured. Many were executed. Father Weston languishes in Wisbech Castle. Why would you think he could harm you from there? Indeed, why did you ever run from the safe harbour you had found in the home of Lady Susan, the Countess of Kent?’

‘Because I saw her and knew I was in danger.’

Shakespeare’s food arrived and he pushed it away irritably. ‘Whom did you see? The old nun, Sister Michael?’

‘Oh no, Mr Shakespeare, you do not understand at all. Sister Michael was my one friend in the world. She persuaded Father Southwell to intervene and put an end to the exorcisms. It was she who took me to safety in London and found me refuge. I could not have survived without her. Why do you think she hid away at Denham? Why do you think they killed her in your stables, Mr Shakespeare? Because they knew what she had done and she refused to tell them where I was. They wanted to get me because I was the only one that knew the truth. Poor Sister Michael was not the one I saw. The one I was fleeing was the one who ran it all, the one who was always there, urging them on, doing filthy things to me, stabbing me with needles, sticking bones and other disgusting things into me, forcing my legs apart and squirting strange liquids into me. And as soon as I saw her at Lady Susan’s house, I ran.’

All Shakespeare’s appetite had dissipated. He drank a goblet in one swallow. The horror unfolding was too much to hear.

‘You know her name, Mr Shakespeare, for I saw her leaving your house this very day. I know all about her and her evil desires. The one I am still not sure of is you .’

Shakespeare was disappointed and horrified, but not shocked; he had never lost his suspicions of her, even as she lay in his bed. He had not even persuaded himself that his suspicions were false; he had simply put them to one side.

So Thomasyn Jade fled from the sanctuary of Lady Susan’s house because she saw Lucia Trevail.

Shakespeare was silent a few moments as he took in the story that Thomasyn Jade had told him.

‘When you saw Lady Trevail at Lady Susan’s gathering, why did you not simply report her if she was your tormentor?’

‘To whom?’ Thomasyn demanded. ‘I was terrified.’

‘To the other ladies in the group, the justice, the sheriff — even the Privy Council.’

‘I didn’t trust any of them. As far as I knew, the whole of England was of one mind. All bent on my destruction. You should have seen the gentlemen and nobles who crowded into the exorcisms. What power did I, Thomasyn Jade, the dirty common harlot from Denham, have against such men and women? Who would listen to me if I reported them? I was cornered like a bear at the baiting. Sister Michael was the only one who showed me kindness. She tried to persuade Weston and the other priests to be more gentle with me, but she had little influence with them. She was the only one I could trust and so I ran from London back to Denham, for I knew she would still be there and hoped she would shelter me.’

‘What happened next?’

‘Poor Sister Michael had no idea what to do for me, for I was close to madness. She needed a safe place for me — and she needed a healer. Eventually, she recalled hearing that Dean Blague had given refuge to another victim of exorcism — a girl servant much vexed with spirits — and approached him on my behalf. Blague is a good man and took me in without question. His wife knew Forman well and she took me to him. I went there many times.’

‘How did he help you?’

‘He cast my horoscope. He gave me soothing herbs — and he talked with me. Dr Forman brought me back to health. He may be a goat or a satyr, but he is a true healer of bodies and souls. Gradually I became well again. Simon Forman is a good man, though many speak ill of him.’

Shakespeare nodded. The doctor had helped save his life.

All London now knew of the deadly events at Nonsuch, but there was still one question that had to be asked.

‘Do you believe Lucia Trevail was part of the conspiracy to assassinate the Queen and her courtiers?’

‘I am certain of it, but that is for you to find out and prove, Mr Shakespeare. I also believe she killed Sister Michael — or ordered her killing — to silence her. I consider her capable of anything. Men testified that they saw demons running up my leg into my womanhood and others crawling, defeated, from my mouth. I saw but one demon in all the exorcisms I endured, and its name was Lady Trevail.’

Shakespeare froze. So at the end she had killed Roag not out of rage at being taken hostage, but to silence him, too; he was the one man who knew the truth about her. But he, Shakespeare, had suspected the truth, too — hadn’t he?

I had my eye on her, and then I took it off. Now she is heading back to Nonsuch Palace, trusted by the highest in the land, with unfettered access to Gloriana herself. None would think to search her gowns for a long-bladed dagger or a wheel-lock pistol. .

Nonsuch glowed in the night as he rode up to the gatehouse. The captain of the guard was in no mood to admit anyone without first scrutinising his letters of pass with meticulous care, and then checking them again.

‘Who are you?’

‘John Shakespeare, as it says on my pass. You have seen me a dozen times or more, Captain.’

‘Why are you here? The palace is asleep.’

‘I have urgent business with Sir Robert Cecil.’

‘I will have to have these letters checked.’

‘Captain, I believe you erred once before in admitting men with swords disguised as toys. I suggest you do not make another deadly error by barring me. Now let me in.’

The captain seemed put out. ‘Very well, Mr Shakespeare, I will escort you in myself. But you must first hand me your sword and dagger.’

Shakespeare removed his weapons and held them, hilt first, across his palms.

The captain took them and handed them to one of his men. ‘Look after these.’ He nodded to Shakespeare. ‘Come with me.’

They marched quickly through the outer courtyard and thence to the inner quad, which was ablaze with cressets of burning coals and lanterns by the walls. Three minor courtiers stood by the fountain, drinking themselves into oblivion. Otherwise, all was quiet.

‘In here,’ the captain said as they approached a door.

They entered a small ante-room where a steward immediately jumped up from his seat and stepped forward.

‘This is John Shakespeare, assistant secretary to Sir Robert Cecil. He wishes to see him. Says it’s urgent.’

The steward bowed to Shakespeare. ‘Sir Robert is asleep, sir. Is this urgent enough to wake him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then come with me, if you will.’ He turned to the captain. ‘That will be all.’

‘Can you vouch for this man?’

‘Yes, Captain, I know Mr Shakespeare well. Now return to your post.’

Cecil was not asleep. He was at the desk in his chamber, working on documents by the light of half a dozen candles. His eyes were dark with fatigue and his fingers were stained with ink.

‘Come in, John.’ He signalled to the steward. ‘Fetch wine and some food for Mr Shakespeare. He looks as though he needs it.’