Iain Pears - An Instance of the Fingerpost

“With Sir William Compton?”

“He was seen by a reliable witness at Sir William’s house, and stayed there for many days. They discussed you on several occasions, the route you planned to take in a few weeks time, and expressed the hope you might be ambushed on the road.”

“With my Lord Bristol?”

“Sir William is of Lord Bristol’s interest, as I am sure you know…”

“So is Mr. Bennet here.”

“I told Mr. Bennet of my suspicions before I had any inkling of who Cola’s master was. He told Lord Bristol, and within twenty-four hours my servant was murdered by Cola. I was myself the target of an attack a few days later.”

“That is insufficient.”

“It is, but it is not all. Lord Bristol is known to favor a Spanish alliance, and Cola also has strong connections with the governor of the Netherlands; he is a known Catholic, and hence does not acknowledge the authority of the king, Parliament or the laws of this country. And it is not the first time he has attempted a foolish scheme. Moreover, his hand has guided a young man for many months in an attempt to attack you by destroying the reputation of Lord Mordaunt.”

Eventually I had no more. Clarendon would be convinced or not. It is a strange business, trying to persuade a man he is to be killed; and it says much for Lord Clarendon that he wanted good reason before he would own himself satisfied. Many men less than he would have happily leaped at the suspicion, and invented any extra evidence in order to destroy a rival.

“But they have never met? No man has seen them together? There are no letters, no one has overheard any conversation between them?”

I shook my head. “No; but I would doubt if it is likely. Common sense dictates that all contact be through a third party.”

Clarendon leaned back in his chair, and I heard the joints creaking from the strain. Mr. Bennet had sat quite impassively throughout, showing no sign of emotion on his face, neither helping me nor hindering me. He was entirely quiet until Clarendon turned to him.

“You are convinced of this, sir?”

“I am convinced you may well be in danger, and that all possible means should be taken to prevent any harm coming to you.”

“That is generous from a man who loves me so little.”

“No. You are His Majesty’s closest minister, and it is the duty of all to protect you as the king himself. If the king chose to dismiss you, I would not exert myself to prevent your fall; you know that, I am sure. But it is as treasonable for anyone else to force His Majesty as it is criminal to kill a man outside the law. If Bristol wishes this, I will have none of him.”

“Do you think he does? That is the question, is it not? I do not intend to sit here and see whether a knife in my back proves Dr. Wallis correct. I cannot charge Lord Bristol with treason, for the case is not strong enough and the king would see any attempt to prosecute as a misuse of my office. And I will not adopt such methods myself.”

“You have in the past,” Mr. Bennet said.

“Rarely; and I will not in this case. Lord Bristol has been at the king’s side, and his father’s side before that, for more than twenty years, and I have been with him. We shared exile, despair and deprivation together. I loved him as a brother, and do still. I cannot harm him.”

The discourse which passed between the two men continued in such a way; moderation, subtlety and regret being the only emotions and feelings they expressed. This is the way of the courtier, who talks in a code more deep and impenetrable than any of the petty conspirators who were my daily antagonists. I do not even doubt that they meant everything that they said; but left unsaid, and understood by each other beneath the words, a more pitiless conversation was taking place, with each man bargaining and plotting how to turn the situation I had created to their own advantage.

I do not despise them for this; each man believed, I am sure, that the triumph of him and his was for the general good. Nor do I think such flexibility an error; in the past few years England had suffered greatly at the hands of rigid men of principle, who would not bend and could not change. That Clarendon and Mr. Bennet competed for the king’s favor added luster to His Majesty’s glory. Forcing that favor, taking away his right to choose, was the sin of Parliament in the past and Lord Bristol in the present. That was why both had to be opposed.

Nor was I surprised that both men wished to comprehend fully the potential damage to themselves of Bristol’s fall. For the consequences would be great, as they are whenever a mighty interest collapses. The Digby family, which he headed, had a strong following in the House of Commons and in the West Country; many of his friends and family had been placed at court and in offices of state. Removing Lord Bristol was one thing; rooting out his family was another.

“I hope we may take it that this Italian must be stopped,” the Chancellor said, with the first glimmerings of a smile I had seen since I had told him my information. “That is the beginning. The more serious problem, if I may put it so, is Lord Bristol. I do not wish to accuse him, let alone bring articles of impeachment against him myself. Will you do so, Mr. Bennet?”

He shook his head. “I cannot. Too many of his people are my people as well. It would tear us apart, and I would not be trusted again. I will not support him, but cannot plunge a knife into his back.”

They both fell silent, willing the end, yet shrinking from the deed. Eventually I ventured to speak, somewhat abashed at offering counsel to such people without being asked, but confident that my skills matched theirs.

“Perhaps he can bring about his own fall,” I said.

Both men looked at me gravely, wondering whether to upbraid me for having spoken, or encourage me to continue. Eventually Clarendon nodded that I had his permission to speak.

“Lord Bristol is foolhardy, easily wounded in vanity and honor and excessively fond of grand gestures. This he has demonstrated. He must be forced to act in a way which is so intemperate and foolish that even the king becomes exasperated with him.”

“And how do you suggest we accomplish this?”

“He has made an attempt, I think, through this young man called Prestcott, which has now failed. Then Cola must also be stopped. Afterward he must be goaded and provoked until he loses all reason. It would take some considerable time to hire another killer, many months, at least. You must whittle away at his position quickly before he can try again.”

“For example?”

“There are many things you might do. He is steward of my university; you might suggest he be relieved of the post on the grounds of his Catholicism. Eject some of his supporters from their positions.”

“That will not provoke; merely irritate.”

“My Lord, may I speak plainly?”

Clarendon nodded.

“Your daughter married the Duke of York against your will and without your knowledge.”

Clarendon nodded slowly, ready to anger. Mr. Bennet sat absolutely still, watching me as I spoke the most dangerous words I had ever uttered. Even to mention the notorious match to the chancellor could end a man’s career, for it had nearly ended his when it became known. It was rash even to allude to it and even rasher to bring it up as I was about to do. As best I could, I ignored the cold and stony look from the chancellor, and pretended not to notice that Mr. Bennet’s support was manifestly absent.

“I hesitate to recommend such a course, but my Lord Bristol must be made to think that Her Majesty the Queen is barren, and that you were well aware of this when you advocated the match.”

There was dead, total silence after I uttered the words, and I feared that I would bring his wrath upon me. Again he surprised me; rather than erupting in fury, he merely asked in a cold, frigid voice—“And how would that serve?”