Martin Stephen - The rebel heart

He and Mannion were holding weekly reviews of the information they had gathered. It was late in January that Mannion made his most surprising suggestion.

'You ever thought about bringing that girl in on these chats we 'as?'

'The girl?' Gresham was more startled than offended. 'Why? She's seemed a lot happier recently, she's out of my hair at least. Why should I want to bring her back into it? We're bound to argue again if we talk business. And why her? She just a country girl with an untrained brain and looks to die for — and a personality that can kill.'

'She's got brains, all right,' said Mannion, 'and it's the untrained bit that's good. Means she don't think in channels. And she's a woman. Women see these thing different from men. Witches, they are. Got this intuition about people. And we knows we can trust 'er. She's bin to Scotland, ain't she? And she made her own way over to Ireland — could've been that she saved your life.'

Gresham eyed Mannion with malice.

'Has she put you up to this? I know you're thick as thieves.' *No, she ain't,' said Mannion firmly. 'If she'd been pressin' me for it, that'd be best reason for not lettin' 'er in on any secrets. She ain't pressin'. I am.'

'Will you talk to her first? Tell her she might hear stuff that could get her hung? Tell her she could get all of us hung if she tells anyone else?'

'I'll do more than that,' said Mannion. Til tell 'er not to be impertinent.'

Gresham was far more nervous when he held his first Council of War with Jane present than was usual, until he realised that Jane was even more nervous than he was. He caught sight of her hand trembling an instant before she drew it into her sleeve. In some way it made things easier for Gresham. The girl was strangely withdrawn, tense, holding back.

'Right,' he said firmly, 'let's go through what we've got.'

'Well,' said Mannion, 'the bad news is that the Earl might 'ave got a real little army, if he wants to use it. Word is that 'e's fallen out with Mountjoy, who won't bring the Irish army back to fight for tm.

'So who has he got on his side?' asked Gresham.

'Well, five Earls and three Lords for starters — Southampton, Rutland, Sussex and Bedford, wi' Mounteagle, Cromwell and Sandys just behind.'

'Rutland, Southampton and Bedford… weren't they all wards of old Lord Burghley, like Essex?' asked Gresham.

'True enough,' said Mannion. 'And most of 'em are thousands in debt. An' I mean thousands.'

'Which means on the one hand they can't muster many men, but at the same time they're desperate,' said Gresham.

'And that's the picture with a real ol’ wild bunch he's got with 'im as well. You want the names? You knows most of them.' Gresham nodded, including Jane in the gesture. She would not necessarily know who Essex's lesser supporters were, and there was no point in her joining them unless she was fully briefed.

'Blount, o' course. Then there's that Sir John Davies: bad 'un, that one — acts like a sort of chief of staff, wily bugger. He and that Gelli Meyrick are thick as thieves. Both Essex's creatures: ain't got nothing if they ain't got 'im. Sir William Constable; Sir George Devereux, Essex's uncle; Sir Ferdinando Gorges; Sir Tom Heydon; Sir Robert Cross; Sir Griffin Markham; Richard Chomley; Tom West; Robert Catesby; Francis Tresham… there's about ten or twenty more of 'em — gentry.'

'Christ Almighty!' said Gresham, and Jane recoiled slightly at the blasphemy. 'What a list of… of incompetent, ne'er do wells! It's about everyone who ever missed out on favour at Court.'

'Well, that's it, isn't it?' said Mannion. "Is supporters are the ones 'o got pushed aside at the feeding trough. They're 'ungry, they feels left out, and they're mad.'

'They're also stupid!' said Gresham. 'There's hardly a brain to share between them.'

'Wait till you 'ear the list of the military men,' said Mannion. He reeled off a list of adventurers, many of whom had sailed with Essex to Cadiz on the Azores expedition and gone with him to Ireland.

'Firebrands,' said Gresham, 'drunkards, braggards and loud mouths. Out of work soldiers whose only hope for preferment — or employment — is Essex. What a mixture!'

'Well,' said Mannion, 'mixture they might be, but there's a fair number of them. And all of 'em with a real capacity to raise 'ell. But that's not the worst of it.'

'Go on,' said Gresham. 'Make me happy.'

'The people we sent out into the Marches. They all report one thing. That Gelli Meyrick's been riding round all summer like a lunatic on Essex's lands. Loads o' people there promised 'orsemen, support. Apparently half the borders is willin' to march to London for Essex.'

Jane spoke, softly and obviously nervous.

'Bolingbroke landed in Wales and gathered his army there when he usurped Richard II, didn't he? He took over the Crown with Welsh peasants.'

'Yes, he did,' said Gresham. 'And the link between them's been noticed in a score of pamphlets. Both Welshmen. Both men who seem to have been wronged by the reigning monarch. Both men with massive public support; both men who ended up King when they swore all they wanted was justice, because the King himself was so unpopular.'

There was silence. Mannion had a list in his hand of those who might be presumed to support Essex in a rebellion, a very long list. It seemed as if every bankrupt, every wastrel in the country, almost every man who had fallen foul of Court patronage was there.

'So can he do it?' Jane ventured. Her voice cracked as she spoke. How nervous was the girl? Surely by now she should be getting used to being there? 'The Earl, I mean? Do you think he could overthrow the Queen?'

Gresham thought for a long minute.

'Yes,' he said. 'If he planned it, if the wind was in the right direction, if luck was on his side — rebellions never go according to plan. But the Queen's in decline, Cecil's unpopular, Essex still has hero status with the people — yes, he could do it. Perhaps.'

'Would it be the right thing?' asked Jane. 'For England? For the people?'

Maybe that was why Mannion had asked her to join them. Who else could ask such a treasonable question with such genuine innocence?

Gresham had to think about that one too.

'No. Probably not.' He thought for a moment longer. 'Definitely not. Essex is unstable. He's a spoilt child really, someone who's never grown up. Elizabeth is a mother figure for him. He craves her authority as much as he resents and fights against it. All he really wants is for people to accept him, to see him as the hero he would desperately love to be. He's also got a death wish. He's like the child who wants to attend his own funeral, to see how sorry people will be when he dies. He's got many virtues, actually. But if he became King, his supporters would call in their debts. They'd descend on this country like vultures denied food for years. Good government would stop.'

And he has drunk a child's blood, thought Gresham, a fact he had sworn never to reveal.

'So is Cecil provoking Essex to rebel? Why would he do that? Particularly if Essex might win.'

Gresham was finding this more interesting than he had imagined; Jane's questions were forcing him to put his thoughts in order.

'It's as if the Queen is taunting Essex as well as punishing him — not killing him, but denying him the contact, the favour and the money he needs. That's her instinct — has been all her life — defer the decision until the last moment, change your mind all the time, never put in the killer blow. It's what she did with Mary of Scots. Yet it's wrong with Essex, as it was wrong with Mary. All you do is provoke rebellion. Cecil must know that, and if Cecil told her either to take Essex back into the fold or get rid of him for good on a treason charge, I think she'd do it. So, logically, we've got to deduce that Cecil's holding back, letting the Queen go her own, sweet and thoroughly misguided way. That means he sees profit for himself in Essex rebelling.'