Ken Follett - A Column of Fire

Her shop was the ground floor of a timber-framed building in a row, a typical London house, with each storey jutting out over the one below. The front door was open, and he stepped inside. He was soothed by the rows of books and the smell of paper and ink.

Sylvie was unpacking a box from Geneva. She straightened up when she heard his step. He looked into her blue eyes and kissed her soft mouth.

She held him at a distance and spoke English with a soft French accent. ‘What on earth has happened?’

‘I had to perform an unpleasant duty. I’ll tell you, but I want to wash.’ He went out to the backyard, and dipped a bowl in a rain barrel, and washed his face and hands in the cold water.

Back in the house, he went upstairs to the living quarters and threw himself into his favourite chair. He closed his eyes and heard Launcelot crying for his mother.

Sylvie came upstairs. She went to the pantry, got a bottle of wine, and poured two goblets. She handed him a glass, kissed his forehead and sat close to him, knee to knee. He sipped his wine and took her hand.

She said: ‘Tell me.’

‘A man was tortured in the Tower today. He had threatened the life of the queen. I didn’t torture him — I can’t do it, I don’t have the stomach for that work. But I arranged to conduct an interrogation in the next room, so that my suspect could hear the screams.’

‘How dreadful.’

‘It worked. I turned an enemy agent into a double agent. He serves me now. But I can still hear those screams.’ Sylvie squeezed his hand and said nothing. After a while he said: ‘Sometimes I hate my work.’

‘Because of you, men like the duke of Guise and Pierre Aumande can’t do in England what they do in France — burn people to death for their beliefs.’

‘But in order to defeat them I have become like them.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ she said. ‘You don’t fight for compulsory Protestantism the way they fight for compulsory Catholicism. You stand for tolerance.’

‘We did, at the start. But now, when we catch secret priests, we execute them, regardless of whether they threaten the queen. Do you know what we did to Margaret Clitherow?’

‘Is she the woman who was executed in York for harbouring a Catholic priest?’

‘Yes. She was stripped naked, tied up, and laid on the ground; then her own front door was placed on top of her and loaded with rocks until she was crushed to death.’

‘Oh, God, I didn’t know that.’

‘Sickening.’

‘But you never wanted it to be this way! You wanted people with different beliefs to be good neighbours.’

‘I did, but perhaps it’s impossible.’

‘Roger told me something you once said to him. I wonder if you remember the time he asked you why the queen hated Catholics.’

Ned smiled. ‘I remember.’

‘He’s hasn’t forgotten what you told him.’

‘Perhaps I did something right. What did I say to Roger?’

‘You said that there are no saints in politics, but imperfect people can make the world a better place.’

‘Did I say that?’

‘That’s what Roger told me.’

‘Good,’ said Ned. ‘I hope it’s true.’

Summer brought new hope to Alison, who brightened with the weather. Only the inner circle at Chartley Manor knew of the secret correspondence with Anthony Babington, but Mary’s revived spirits heartened everyone.

Alison was optimistic, but not blindly so. She wished she knew more about Babington. He came from a good Catholic family, but that was about all that could be said for him. He was only twenty-four. Would he really be able to lead a rebellion against the queen who had held on firmly to power for twenty-seven years? Alison wanted to know the plan.

The details came in July of 1586.

After the initial exchange of letters that served to establish contact and assure both parties that the channel of communication was open, Babington sent a full outline of what he proposed. The letter came in a beer barrel, and was decoded by Mary’s secretary, Claude Nau. Alison sat with Mary and Nau, in Mary’s bedroom at Chartley Manor, and pored over the paper.

It was exhilarating.

‘Babington writes of “this great and honourable action” and “the last hope ever to recover the faith of our forefathers”, but he says more,’ said Nau, looking at his decrypt. ‘He outlines six separate actions necessary for a successful uprising. The first is the invasion of England by a foreign force. Second, that force to be large enough to guarantee military victory.’

Mary said: ‘The duke of Guise has sixty thousand men, we’re told.’

Alison hoped it was true.

‘Third, ports must be chosen where the armies can land and be resupplied.’

‘Settled long ago, I think, and maps sent to my cousin Duke Henri,’ said Mary. ‘Though Babington may not know about that.’

‘Fourth, when they arrive they must be met by a substantial local force to protect their landing against immediate counterattack.’

‘The people will rise up spontaneously,’ Mary said.

Alison thought they might need prompting, but that could be arranged.

‘Babington has given this some thought,’ Nau said. ‘He has selected men he describes as “your lieutenants” in the west, the north, South Wales, North Wales, and the counties of Lancaster, Derby and Stafford.’

Alison thought that sounded impressively well organized.

‘ “Fifth, Queen Mary must be freed”,’ Nau read aloud. ‘ “Myself, with ten gentlemen and a hundred of our followers, will undertake the delivery of your royal person from the hands of your enemies.” ’

‘Good,’ said Mary. ‘Sir Amias Paulet has nowhere near a hundred guards here, and anyway, most of them are lodged in the surrounding neighbourhood, not at the Manor. Before they can be mustered, we’ll be long gone.’

Alison was feeling increasingly energized.

‘And sixth, of course, Elizabeth must be killed. Babington writes: “For the dispatch of the usurper, from the obedience of whom we are by excommunication made free, there be six gentlemen, all my private friends, who for the zeal they bear to the Catholic cause and your majesty’s service, will undertake that tragic execution.” I think that’s about as clear as it could be.’

It certainly was, thought Alison, and for a moment she was chilled to think of the murder of a queen.

‘I must reply to this quickly,’ said Mary.

Nau looked anxious. ‘We should be careful what we say.’

‘There is only one thing I can say, and that is yes.’

‘If your letter should fall into the wrong hands...’

‘It will be placed in safe hands, and written in code.’

‘But if things should go wrong...’

Mary reddened, and Alison knew that the anger and frustration of the last twenty years were showing. ‘I have to seize this opportunity. Otherwise there is no hope for me.’

‘Your reply to Babington will be evidence of treason.’

‘So be it,’ said Mary.

The business of espionage required a lot of patience, Ned reflected in July of 1586.

He had hoped, back in 1583, that Francis Throckmorton would lead him to hard evidence of the treachery of Mary Stuart. That hope had been disappointed when the malice of the earl of Leicester had forced Ned to arrest Throckmorton prematurely. Then, in 1585, he had found a new Throckmorton in Gilbert Gifford. This time the earl of Leicester was not in England to make trouble: Queen Elizabeth had sent him to the Spanish Netherlands at the head of an army to fight for the Dutch Protestant rebels against their Catholic Spanish overlords. Leicester was making a hash of the job — his talents were for flirting and charming, not fighting and killing — but it kept him from undermining Walsingham.