Andrew Swanston - The King's Return

‘Five guineas it is, Finn,’ agreed Josiah, ‘as long as you lead us to the right man and say no more about it.’

‘’E’s your man, all right. The child’ll take you. Three guineas now and give ’er the other two when you’re there. It’s not far.’

‘Done.’

Thomas fished three guineas out of his purse and put them where Finn could see them beside the candle.

Finn laughed. ‘May not talk much, your cousin, but ’e’s quick with ’is money. I don’t know what your business is, Josiah, and I don’t much care. Just do it and be gone. We don’t want the trained men to come calling.’ He called for the girl. ‘Take ’em to the inn, and show ’em the way out. I don’t want ’em coming back ’ere.’

And I am not all that keen to come back here, thought Thomas. An inn, though? Not what he expected.

The girl led them through the other door, into a foul kitchen which reeked of rotten food and outside into another dark alley. They followed her along it to a low door which she pushed open. Yet another alley led directly ahead of them. About ten yards up it, the girl stopped and pointed to a hole in the wall.

‘’Ere?’ asked Josiah. The girl nodded and held out her hand. Thomas took out two more guineas and gave them to her. She pointed down the alley and said, ‘Out.’ Then she ran back the way they had come. Five guineas to be shown a hole in a wall in a mean alley by a filthy child. For all they knew, the hole led to a sewer.

‘Do you think he’s in there?’ asked Thomas.

‘’E will be. Finn knows we’d be back if ’e weren’t. ’E wouldn’t want that.’

‘It doesn’t look much like an inn.’

Josiah laughed. ‘It’s not an inn, sir. That’s just a word they use for a place where a man can ’ide. For a shilling or two a day, ’e’s safe from the law. There’s a number of inns around ’ere.’

‘Not safe from us, though.’

‘No, sir. But we wouldn’t ’ave got this far if I ’adn’t been recognized, or if we’d been short of five guineas. Are you ready?’

‘Ready, Josiah. Let’s find the man and be gone.’

Josiah climbed through the hole first. It opened into a space about the size of the Carringtons’ sitting room, with three doors off it. An old woman sat on a stool beside one of the doors. Her face had been ravaged by pox, she was almost bald and she smelt like a dung heap. Thomas only just stopped himself from pulling out his handkerchief again. When she saw them, the woman pointed to the door on her right.

News did travel fast. How did she know who they were and what they wanted? Alleys and passages and small children, Thomas supposed. Josiah nodded to the woman, who heaved herself off her stool and scrambled through the hole, leaving them to be about their business.

The door was unlocked. Josiah turned the handle, opened it and stepped inside. Thomas was a pace behind him. The room was bare but for a heap of blankets in one corner. Under the blankets a body was snoring. Thomas walked over and kicked it. There was a grunt of surprise and a head poked itself out of the heap. Thomas started. It was close shaven, hollow-cheeked and dirty. It was not the head he was expecting. He looked again. Yes, it was. Lemuel Squire might have lost his wig and a stone in weight, but he was still Lemuel Squire.

‘Good morning, Lemuel. We appear to have woken you. We’ve come to escort you to more comfortable quarters. Kindly stir yourself and we’ll be away.’

Squire peered at him through sleep-encrusted eyes. ‘The devil’s whores, how did you find me here?’

‘Josiah is adept at such matters. It was not difficult.’ A lie, but he could not resist it. If Squire had thought he was safe, all the better to rub his nose in the dirt.

Squire pushed himself up and sat on the blankets. ‘I underestimated you, Thomas. I thought you were just a clever cryptographer. Now I see there’s more to you.’ He was recovering his wits.

‘Never mind that. Joseph Williamson is waiting for you. Get up.’

Squire shrugged and made as if to rise. His hand emerged from under the blankets. It was holding a cocked flintlock pistol. ‘It is loaded,’ he said quietly, pointing it at Thomas. ‘Step back against the wall, both of you, and sit on the floor, or I will shoot.’ Thomas looked him in the eye. He meant it. He backed away and did as he was ordered. Josiah put down his stick and sat beside him.

‘That’s better.’ The pistol had never wavered from Thomas’s face. Squire’s voice was steady. ‘Now, it is true that I have only one pistol and one shot. If I shoot Mottershead, Thomas will pick up the stick and attack me and only one of us will leave this room. On the other hand, if I shoot Thomas, Mottershead will certainly beat me into a bloody mess. He will, however, have to explain Thomas’s death to Williamson. Which is it to be?’

‘There is a third way,’ said Thomas. ‘You could hand me the pistol and come with us. Joseph has spared Stoner the gallows and he will do the same for you.’

Squire scoffed. ‘Even if I believed you, why would he spare me? I’ve deceived him for more than a year, plotted against him and his like and caused him much grief and embarrassment. I doubt if the king is very pleased with him and he’d be even less pleased if I were allowed to live. When I leave here, it will be to go to a place where I cannot be reached.’

Despite himself, Thomas was intrigued. Could this really be the same bluff Squire who dressed like a court jester, ate and drank like a trencherman and had treated him like a brother? ‘Why, Lemuel? Why the treachery and deceit?’

A shadow passed over Squire’s face. ‘Deceit, certainly. As you know, I was an actor until the theatres were closed – not one of the Lord Protector’s better ideas. My Falstaff was much admired. But treachery? That I deny.’

‘How can you deny it? You betrayed secrets to our enemies and put the country in danger.’

‘Your enemies, Thomas, not mine. That is the nub of the matter. As a republican, I am loyal to the principles of republicanism and have done what I could to help the cause. I do not wish to be ruled by a king or by any man who holds his position simply due to an accident of birth. By the same token, I did not choose to be born an Englishman, so why should I owe my loyalty to England? It is principles of equality I have espoused, not geography. A deceiver, yes, a traitor, no.’

‘You are a Leveller. I should never have guessed it.’

‘Our leader, John Lilburne, preferred the word “agitator”. If wanting a Parliament and judiciary free of corruption and believing in religious toleration makes me an agitator, then I plead guilty to the charge. That there are now so few of us does not diminish the strength of my beliefs. I choose to fight for them in the best way I can – by using my skills as an actor. The profession is home to many of my fellow agitators.’

It was no surprise. Squire had falsely claimed to carry messages for the king, but Lilburne was reputed to have had just as many supporters among the companies of travelling players. And actors were deceivers. Squire would have had no difficulty pretending to be one thing while actually being another. Some of the Levellers would still be active. But whatever the merits of their principles they could not excuse murder. ‘How do you justify the murders of four men and the abduction of an innocent woman?’

‘Pragmatism and expediency – necessary companions to principle and creed, if the struggle is to be won. Just as an alliance with our friends in France and Holland is necessary.’

‘What was expedient about the abduction of Madeleine Stewart?’

‘We thought she would tell us what you knew. Alas, she became ill and would not have survived more vigorous interrogation.’ Squire stared at the two of them, his pistol aimed at a point halfway between their heads.