Philip Kerr - Dark Matter

“Then I will say it for you, my young friend. It is a plan to massacre London’s Roman Catholics that is here revealed. The tax rolls were how the Huguenots of Paris were identified on Saint Bartholomew’s Day, in 1572. It was said that some ten thousand Protestant men, women and children in Paris were murdered in one night. And yet more in the country at large.”

“But that was more than a century ago,” I objected. “And Englishmen are not like Frenchmen. We do not murder people in their beds. Besides, there are not so many Catholics in London as there were Huguenots in Paris.”

“Do you think so?” scoffed Newton. “London has many secret Roman Catholics — Church papists who pay only lip service to the Anglican Church, and celebrate their mass in private.”

“But does not the Test Act demand that they take the oaths of loyalty to the Anglican Church? A man may be fined for recusancy, after all.”

“And yet few are fined,” said Newton. “The law is a poor one, being seldom enforced.”

“I still say that in this country people are not murdered in their beds, whatever their religion.”

“Were not the Jacobite MacDonalds of Glencoe coldbloodedly slaughtered by King William’s troops in Scotland? That was but five years ago, as I recall.”

“They were Scotch,” I said, as if that explained how such a terrible thing had taken place. “Scotch victims and Scotch soldiers. What else is to be expected of the Scots? Londoners are not so intolerant. Nor are they so barbaric.”

“But if Londoners are provoked, albeit falsely,” said Newton, “what then? You are too young to remember how the Great Fire of London was blamed upon a Catholic named Peidloe, who was hanged for it, although as every schoolboy knows, it was started accidentally by a baker in Pudding Lane. As was the Southwark Fire of 1676, although another Roman Catholic, this time a Jesuit named Grove, was blamed for that. Indeed the Southwark Fire was generally perceived to have been planned by Catholics as a prelude to a massacre of London’s Protestants. And during the Revolution, did not Londoners expect to be massacred by King James’s Irish troops with whom he hoped to keep his kingdom?

“No, Ellis. Londoners are like the people of any great city: most credulous and mad. I would as soon trust a dog with a foaming mouth as depend on the varied and inconstant opinion of a London mob. I wonder that any man who has been to an execution at Tyburn could hold such a good opinion of the populace as you seem to.”

“I agree, sir, if the mob is provoked, then it is most ungovernable. But I do not see Englishmen being led by French Huguenots. How is the mob to be provoked?”

“It would not be difficult,” said Newton. “But we must find out more, and quickly, too, for we have lost much time while I have been solving this cipher.”

“I still find this hard to accept,” said I.

“Then read the message that we found on Major Mornay’s body.”

To Sergeant Rohan .

If I am killed in this duel, which I did not seek, I ask only that my murderer, Christopher Ellis, be slaughtered with the rest, for among so many, one more will scarcely be noticed, and it will doubtless seem that he was but a secret Catholic. I did my duty as a Protestant .

Remember Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey. Remember Saint Bartholomew’s .

Major Charles Mornay

“Does that not put it beyond any doubt?” asked Newton.

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “And to think that I felt sorry for him.”

Newton nodded silently.

“But were there not four messages, master? What about the message we recovered from poor Mister Twistleton? Did you not decipher that one?”

Silently, Newton handed over the decipherment and let me read the plain text for myself. It made alarming reading:

Remember Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey .

Mister Twistleton ,

In this great religious enterprise, blessed of God, you are to assist Sergeant Rohan in devising a plan to assassinate Doctor Isaac Newton, the Warden of the Royal Mint. All blame must be seen to fall upon Old Roettier, the engraver, and a much suspected Catholic, and upon Jonathan Ambrose, the goldsmith, who is a secret Roman Catholic, and who is know greatly to resent Newton. Upon the return of King William from the war in Flanders, this will help to stir up strong feeling against all Catholics, as did the death of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey before. Therefore, acquaint yourself with Newton’s habits, and inform me by letter of how you propose to carry out this deed, which will be at a more suitable time yet to be decided .

Remember Saint Bartholomew’s .

Yours ,

Doctor Davies

“I must confess that this one gave me a little trouble,” explained Newton. “’Jonathan Ambrose, the goldsmith, who is know greatly to resent Newton’? That’s bad grammar. Such a thing makes a decipherer’s life most vexatious.”

“But, sir, you understate the matter most egregiously. For, according to this letter, you are in mortal danger.”

“I think that we are probably both in some danger,” said Newton.

“But in my own case, I should only be killed with the rest. You, however, are to be killed first of all. Which might be at any time.”

“Not until the King has returned from the war,” said Newton. “That is what the message says, Ellis.”

“It would explain why Sergeant Rohan was so curious about you,” I said, unhappily.

“You spoke to him?”

“Once, when I had followed him to Westminster,” I confessed. “I lost him for a while and then bumped into him. He was most affable. We had a drink together. At the time I thought that I might acquire some information about him.”

“And now you discover that he may have gained some information about me, is that it?”

I nodded miserably, ashamed to confess that I had the suspicion that I might even have let slip Newton’s address.

“No matter,” said Newton. “Information about me is not so difficult to obtain. He would have found some other means, had you not told him what you did. Therefore, calm yourself. We are prepared for them and know them for what they are: ruthless men. Doubtless Macey was tortured and killed when he tried to understand their messages. Even Major Mornay, who was one of them, was not safe when the scandal of a duel threatened to compromise their plans. We must move very carefully.”

“I wonder why they left Mister Twistleton alive,” said I.

“Who listens to a madman?” said Newton. “You said as much yourself. It is a measure of their confidence in this stratagem and their cipher that they left him alive and in possession of a coded letter. It also explains why Mister Twistleton wished to attack me. But I wish I had possessed the wit to copy down what he said to us. For I’ve an idea that he actually told us the keyword to the code himself, when we visited him in Bedlam. Do you not remember what he said when I asked him the meaning of the letters?”

“Blood,” I said. “‘Blood is behind everything,’ he said.”

“He meant it literally and cryptically,” said Newton. “For blood is the keyword to this code.” He shook his head sadly. “There are times when I seem very stupid to myself.”

“But one thing I still do not understand,” said I. “Why should this be happening here, in the Tower?”

“I have given this matter some thought,” admitted Newton. “And I have concluded that if a mob must be armed, where better to do it than from the Royal Armouries?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “There are enough swords and guns here to equip a whole army. But what are we going to do?”

“We must insinuate ourselves into this secret correspondence,” he explained. “Only then will we find the evidence to take to milord Halifax. To do that, we must know more about our plotters. Not least when they plan to commit their treason. I would know more about this Doctor Davies. Did not one of our spies follow Sergeant Rohan to the courts at Westminster Hall? Perhaps he was the man the Sergeant met there. Once we have discovered that, we shall play one against the other.”