The King's Man Page 7

  Thurloe held up his hand. ‘I know what it is. What I need to know is who is involved and what they plan. I want names.’

  Kit took a breath. ‘I don’t have names. There are too few of them and they are playing it close.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  Kit spread his hands, the chains rattling. ‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know! What are you going to do – employ some other means of persuasion on me?’

  Thurloe sat back in his chair, his gaze on Kit’s face.

  ‘I don’t need to, Lovell. If you don’t know any more than you’re telling, the effort will be wasted, and I know you have good enough reason not to withhold information. I’m sure you’ll tell me as soon as you have anything useful.’ He paused, his eyes narrowing, ‘And as for our arrangement, Captain Lovell, I assure you I intend to keep my word when I am satisfied that you have outlived your use to me.’

  ‘Your use of words is hardly subtle, Thurloe.’ Kit smiled bitterly.

  ‘It’s not intended to be,’ Thurloe snapped. ‘If not for me you would have swung on a gibbet long before this or died, forgotten, in some prison. If you don’t like “outlive”, well then, maybe when I am satisfied that there is no more to be usefully gained by your employment. Now think again. Names, Lovell.’

  ‘Maybe Richard Willys,’ Kit said in a low, sullen voice.

  Thurloe picked up his pen and began smoothing the feathers. ‘Willys? Yes that would make sense, but there must be others, bigger fish than Willys.’ He broke off from his musings and looked at Kit. ‘What about Fitzjames?’

  Kit’s lips tightened and his guts clenched. ‘If Fitzjames is involved with the Sealed Knot, it is only on the edge,’ he said. ‘Willys is your man.’

  Thurloe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then work on Fitzjames, use your friendship with him. I don’t have to tell you how to do your job, Lovell.’

  Kit felt the bile rise to his throat. ‘No,’ he replied shortly. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

  ‘We have dealt neatly with this one pathetic plot, but I believe that this Sealed Knot poses a much bigger threat. As you surmise, there is an element of organisation to it I have not seen since Charles Stuart attempted to reclaim his throne in ’51. If indeed they carry his commission then that is a matter of grave concern. I need to know who is involved and what they plan. I also want to know if the French are involved.’

  ‘The French?’ Kit raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You’re probably aware that England stands in a precarious position with the French and the Spanish. I would not be surprised if the French use a little civil unrest here in England to sway Spain’s sympathies. We have a new envoy from Mazarin here in London. The Baron de Baas.’ Thurloe paused, raising his eyebrows in uncharacteristic distaste at the mention of the name. ‘De Baas has a very high opinion of himself and he is not a man I trust. The French Ambassador, Bordeaux, seems unhappy at Baas’ presence but appears powerless to do anything about it, which is what makes me think de Baas has a specific commission from Mazarin.’

  ‘I have had no dealings with this man nor heard the name mentioned,’ Kit responded. ‘What do you expect me to do?’

  Thurloe paused and leaned forward on his elbows, his interlaced fingers supporting his chin. ‘Exactly what you do so well, Captain Lovell. Play dice and cards and get your friends appallingly drunk.’

  Kit looked affronted. ‘Thurloe, I thought you had a better opinion of me than that.’

  ‘Let me remind you, my friend, that I have a full accounting of your debts, so I know exactly what it is that you do. Now, are we clear, Lovell? I want to know who and what your friends in the Sealed Knot are up to and I want to know what game the Baron de Baas is playing.’

  Kit raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, bringing his gaze back to meet the eyes of the Secretary of State. ‘If this plot is serious, I could be a dead man, Thurloe.’

  ‘You’re a survivor, Lovell, and you and I both know that you have a good reason to ensure that you stay healthy.’

  ‘God damn you to Hell, Thurloe.’ Kit couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.

  ‘I shall be in good company. You may go, Captain Lovell.’

  Kit stood and turned for the door. As an afterthought he stopped and looked back. ‘The girl … ’

  Thurloe blinked. ‘What girl?’

  ‘Thamsine Granville.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘What do you know about her?’

  Thurloe shrugged.

  ‘She says she’s from Hampshire – Hartley Court. Father dead, dispossessed, and reduced to penury on the streets of London. Why? What interest do you have in her?’

  None, Kit told himself. However, he needed to assuage his guilt. He had been the one to send her to the Tower. She had been a useful pawn in this ongoing game of chess with John Thurloe.

  Kit shook his head. ‘What are you going to do with her?’

  ‘What would you like me to do with her?’

  ‘Let her go, Thurloe,’ Kit said.

  ‘Now, why should I do that? She has admitted her guilt.’

  ‘Are you going to try her?’

  ‘Not my decision.’ Thurloe shrugged.

  ‘I’m not a fool, Thurloe. The Council will make whatever decision you recommend.’

  ‘The Lord Protector is ill-disposed to women who throw brickbats at his coach.’

  ‘She’s not a conspirator, Thurloe, just a woman at the end of her means. Let her go.’ He paused, casting around for reasons to undo the damage he had done. ‘She’s an intelligent woman and she could be useful.’

  ‘To you or to me?’

  Kit shrugged. ‘Let her go, Thurloe, and we’ll see.’

  Thurloe considered him for a moment. ‘I agree, she is an intelligent woman, Lovell. Does she have any particular skills that may be of use?’

  Kit frowned. ‘She speaks fluent French and appears to be a relatively accomplished musician.’

  Thurloe straightened. ‘She speaks French?’

  ‘As well as I do.’

  ‘And a musician as well. A good one?’

  Kit shrugged. ‘She has had the benefit of a good education, and she sings well.’

  ‘Ah yes, I’ve heard about her talents in the barroom. Perhaps we could reconsider Mistress Granville’s fate.’ Thurloe’s lips twitched into what may have been considered by some a smile. ‘In fact, now I think on it, I have a task ideally suited to a woman of her talents.’

  Kit stared at his master. ‘She doesn’t know that I … ’

  ‘Betrayed her? No. I’m sure she still thinks of you as her saviour and friend.’

  ‘Then shall we leave it that way?’

  Thurloe shrugged. ‘She is bound to find out one day,’ he said.

  ‘Can I see her?’ Kit asked.

  ‘Dear me, Captain Lovell, if I’m not mistaken I detect a soft spot for Mistress Granville. A dangerous weakness in the game you play.’

  Kit narrowed his eyes. ‘I assure you I have no weakness as regards Mistress Granville. I think she can be useful, that’s all. It is surely in both our interests for her to continue to trust me.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Thurloe waved a hand. ‘Oh, very well, you can go and play comforter to her if you wish.’

  ‘An accidental meeting, Thurloe?’

  Thurloe nodded. ‘It can be arranged.’

  ~ * ~

  Nothing could have prepared Thamsine for the insufferable boredom of imprisonment. She had counted every stone in the walls of her cell and spent the long hours lying on her cot composing melodies in her head. Her dwindling supply of coin did not run to the luxury of pen and paper.

  She was deeply absorbed in a reworking of a familiar piece for the lute when her door opened with a thud.

  ‘You’ve visitors,’ the turnkey said with a suitable amount of surprise in his voice.

  Thamsine rose to her feet and smoothed her rumpled skirts. She could think of no one who would be visiting her other than that awful man
, Thurloe, and she had no wish to see him again.

  ‘Well, well, Lady Muck, this is quite a comedown, ain’t it?’

  The shock of seeing Nan Marsh caused Thamsine to take two steps backward. She tripped over the stool and fell back onto the narrow, flea-infested cot.

  Nan stood at the door, looking around her with a faintly bemused air. ‘So this is the Tower of London? I thought they’d throw you in a dungeon. You done all right for yourself.’

  Thamsine buried her head in her hands. ‘Nan, what are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought a pleasant stroll in the Tower of London – what a stupid question!’

  ‘Hello, Thamsine.’ May’s head appeared around the door.

  Thamsine stared at them both in disbelief, as Nan set a basket down on the table with a thump and began unpacking it.

  ‘May and I reckons you might need a few things: clean linen, stockings, cloak, petticoat and bodice. Comb. Candle, tinder, flagon of wine and one of me pies, some bread and cheese and most importantly … ’ There was a jangle of coins as a purse landed on the bed beside Thamsine. ‘That’s your earnings from t’other night. Jem was right peeved when those soldiers took you away. Thought you was a nice little earner.’

  Thamsine stared at the girls. Nothing in their short acquaintance had given any indication of friendship.

  ‘You didn’t have to do this,’ she said.

  Nan’s lip curled. ‘Nah, ye’re right. No one made us do it but after all the bother you caused us, we had a bit of an investment in you.’

  ‘Did you really hurl a brickbat at the Lord Protector?’ May asked

  Thamsine nodded.

  ‘Why d’ya go and do a stupid thing like that?’ Nan demanded.

  Thamsine looked from one twin to the other.

  ‘I needed a diversion,’ she said. ‘I didn’t stop to think what I was really doing.’

  ‘A diversion? What from?’ Nan looked incredulous. ‘Come on, Thamsine. I reckons you owe us your story.’

  Thamsine shrugged. There seemed little point in keeping her silence.

  ‘I ran away from a man,’ she said. ‘A man who wanted to marry me.’

  ‘Well that’s not such a bad thing, in’t it? I wish there was someone who wanted to marry me,’ May said.

  ‘Not like this man. He is violent and vicious and his motives for wanting to marry me have nothing to do with love and everything to do with money.’

  ‘Oh, so you have money then?’ Nan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Could’ve fooled me.’

  Thamsine gave a bitter laugh. ‘Yes, but when I marry it goes to my husband and until I marry it is controlled by my guardian, who is the same man who thinks he has a right to marry me.’

  ‘Same man?’

  Thamsine nodded.

  May shook her head. ‘Sometimes I reckon it’s best to be poor, then if a man marries you, you can think it’s coz he likes you … ’ she sighed, ‘ … or coz he got you in the family way.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Nan put in over her sister’s musings.

  ‘He … treated me badly.’

  May’s eyes widened. ‘He didn’t … ?’

  Thamsine grimaced as she took the girl’s meaning. Of course he had tried. It had only been the chance intervention of another that had prevented it.

  ‘He is capable of that and worse. He thought he could force me into marriage with him,’ she said

  ‘How d’ya get away?’

  Thamsine swallowed, the memory of that terrible night as vivid as if it had only just occurred. ‘I shot him. I thought I’d killed him. I ran away to London to hide.’

  ‘You didn’t kill ’im?’

  Thamsine shook her head. ‘No. I know I didn’t kill him and he’s here in London looking for me.’

  ‘How’d you know that?’

  ‘I saw him in the crowd that day. That’s why I threw the brickbat. If I hadn’t, he would have caught me and then … and then … ’ An unimaginable fate, far worse than her present predicament, loomed before her. At least he couldn’t find her while she was incarcerated in the Tower.

  May put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

  ‘Well I reckon you had as good a reason as any for throwing brickbats at Cromwell,’ she said. ‘Have you told ’em why you did it?’

  Thamsine shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I would rather hang than go back to that man.’

  ‘Are they going to hang you?’ Nan asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I had a meeting with a really frightening man called John Thurloe. I think whatever happens to me will be his decision.’ She sighed, and changed the subject. ‘Is there any news of Kit Lovell and the others?’

  Nan shook her head. ‘Nah. I feel quite sorry for poor old Noll Cromwell. Everyone seems to be trying to do him in. I tell you having half your patrons hauled away by the poll heads is not good for business. Jem’s threatening death if he finds who squealed on ’em.’

  ‘Where’s your brother’s loyalties?’ Thamsine asked.

  Nan was silent for a moment. ‘D’ya mean was it Jem what squealed on yer all? You can put that thought away. Jem is dead loyal to the King. Always has been, always will be. Mind you, another week like this and my betting is they’ll find some way to shut him down. He don’t need Cromwell’s soldiers tramping around arresting his customers. Now you need to eat that pie before it goes stone cold.’

  Thamsine sat down on the stool and attacked the pie with relish. A week of the cold, gelatinous gruel the turnkey dished up was enough to have reduced her to a state of semi-starvation again. Nan wandered around the cell, perusing it as if it were a possible apartment to purchase.

  May sat on the cot. ‘One blanket? Cold enough in ’ere to freeze your tits off. If we can get in again, we’ll bring yer another blanket.’

  ‘So how’d you come to know Kit Lovell?’ Nan asked. ‘I never bought the “old friend of me brother” story.’

  Thamsine looked up from the pie. ‘The truth is he pulled me out of the crowd that day I threw the brickbat.’

  ‘You never knew ’im before?’

  Thamsine shook her head.

  The sisters exchanged glances.

  ‘We thought you was sweet on him or summat,’ May said

  Thamsine forced a laugh. ‘Me? Sweet on Kit Lovell? What about you?’

  To her surprise, Nan flushed. ‘Hard not to be a little sweet on him, I admit it, but he’s well set with that widow up in Holborn!’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, he’s not for the likes of May or I.’

  There was the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside. The turnkey appeared in the doorway like an avenging angel.

  ‘Time’s up. Out!’ He jerked a thumb at Nan.

  Thamsine rose to her feet and embraced both the girls.

  ‘Thank you for coming. You’re better friends than I deserve.’

  Nan patted her shoulder and broke the embrace.

  ‘That’s enough of that. Don’t need you getting all sentimental on me. I just does me bit that’s all.’

  At the door she stopped. ‘It’ll all be right in the end, Thamsine. You see if it isn’t and if they lets you out, there’s a place for you at the Ship.’

  Thamsine forced a smile. ‘I wish I had your optimism, Nan.’

  Nan shook her head. ‘You be sure to guard that purse well. Turnkeys like this bastard are just as likely to sneak in while you are asleep and steal it.’ She gave the turnkey a foul look.

  The door closed heavily behind the girls and an overwhelming sense of loneliness washed over Thamsine. She carefully packed away the provender that Nan had brought and counted the coins. Not enough to sustain her for more than a few more days. She sighed and lay down on the cot with her arms behind her head, forcing her mind to return to the lute melody.

  ~ * ~

  ‘Colonel Barkstead says, seeing as it’s a fine day, you can take a turn on the walls,’ the turnkey said, holding the door open for Thamsine.

  Since the twins’ visit, the walls of h
er cell had closed in around her, and the chance to walk on the walls and stretch her legs and her lungs was one she seized with alacrity.

  Thamsine wrapped her cloak tighter around her as the cold wind blew in a gust off the river and turned her face to it, taking a deep, thankful breath. From her narrow walkway she could see down into the inner and outer courtyards of the Tower.

  In the outer courtyards, children played while women stood and gossiped, babies or baskets of washing on their hips. Watching them gave her a feeling of normality. No one paid any heed to the prisoner on the wall above them.

  A cheerful whistling diverted her attention to the inner courtyard. A prisoner, accompanied by a solitary guard, came through the gate. Despite being hampered by wrist and leg irons, he still managed a familiar swagger.

  ‘Lovell!’ She had yelled his name before she knew what she was saying.

  He stopped whistling and looked up.

  ‘Thamsine Granville, as I live and breathe! “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania”.’ He managed a clumsy bow, cut short as his escort hauled at his chains.

  Kit lowered his head to speak to the man. The soldier shrugged and stepped back. Kit walked over to the wall and looked up at Thamsine. She crouched, looking down into his dirty, bruised, unshaven face.

  Despite the ten yards of wall that lay between them, he grinned and spread his hands as wide as the manacles would let him.

  ‘Here we are, Thamsine. Still alive. Are they treating you well?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose as well as could be expected in the circumstances.’ She managed a small smile. ‘But Nan Marsh has looked after me.’

  ‘Nan?’ Kit’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

  ‘Yes, she and May brought me a basket of food and some clean clothes.’

  ‘I told you she had a big heart.’

  ‘And I take back my comment about the widest legs. What about you?’

  Kit shook his head and shrugged. ‘They’ll play with us for a while. Maybe put a couple on trial but who knows … ?’ He shrugged. ‘I have learned to have no expectations.’

  The soldier put his hand on Kit’s shoulders. ‘Time’s up! Don’t want you getting too friendly, unless you’re willin’ to pay for the privilege. No? Then say your farewells.’