A Parliament of Spies (18 page)

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Authors: Cassandra Clark

BOOK: A Parliament of Spies
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‘How so?’ she asked cautiously.
‘The archbishop is close to His Majesty. His enemies plan to attack the King’s supporters first, one by one, then attack the King himself.’
‘Is that what he told you?’
Edwin nodded.
‘Then we’re all in danger.’
Edwin’s hand went to his sword. ‘But what if it’s more complicated than that? Why Willerby?’ he mused. ‘Why him? Is there something more that made them choose him—?’
‘We certainly seem no closer to knowing if there’s more behind it,’ she interrupted, pulling her cloak
more securely round her shoulders as a sign that the conversation was ended. He could not know about the relic Neville was carrying in secret but if he continued to speculate he could stumble across the truth.
He was frowning and seemed determined to tease out the problem until he had a solution, and then he took another path. ‘What if he knew who killed Martin?’ he demanded. ‘And what if Martin had told him a secret that led to his own murder?’
Hildegard was silent. Swynford could not imagine that the falconer knew about the cross. Willerby was surely too far down the scale to have access to such a secret. It must mean that the attack on him had been random, designed to scare Neville into giving them his support. It must be as Medford had suggested.
‘I hate to find myself agreeing with Medford,’ she told him, ‘but the Duke had Neville’s allegiance in the past. Now Lancaster’s in Castile maybe his son might feel he can’t count on His Grace as formerly? Bolingbroke won’t be sure which way Neville will vote when Richard asks Parliament for support. Tough measures might seem the only way to encourage his allegiance.’
And, she told herself, to frighten him into handing over the cross, because certainly they knew it was in his possession.
Edwin kicked at a corner of the step where they were standing but made no reply.
‘We’d better get along to the Tower,’ Hildegard suggested.
When he did not move she asked, ‘What is it?’
‘I hate being taken for a fool,’ he said slowly. ‘There’s something I’m not being told.’
 
 
While Edwin went to fetch his cloak from the lodge Hildegard retraced her steps to Medford’s office. A page was holding the door open. Distinctly she heard Slake saying, ‘But that bloody nun will guess what’s happened—’
She turned back.
When they came down a few moments later she was standing on the opposite side of the courtyard in the shelter of a stone buttress. They had Swynford’s page between them, Medford on one side, Slake on the other. As they drew level she stepped out towards them.
‘Well met, masters. I see you’ve brought the little fellow with you. Would you like me to take charge of him? A nun is probably better used to caring for children than you gentlemen.’
Both men stopped abruptly and stared at her with their mouths opening. Medford was the first to recover. ‘Most kind and in keeping with the compassion of your Order, Domina. What would you intend doing with him?’
‘A good meal, a dry bed, a wash and change of clothes? When he’s presentable I believe His Grace the Lord Archbishop of York may find a suitable use for him.’
Medford cleared his throat. He gave a quick glance at Slake. ‘Dean, are you in agreement?’
Slake shrugged. ‘So be it.’
Medford put his hand on the back of the boy’s neck and squeezed. ‘Any trouble from him, Domina, inform me.’ He gave the boy a push.
She watched Medford and Slake walk off and, when she glanced down, little Turnbull slipped his hand into hers.
 
‘Unfortunately, I have no page with me,’ Hildegard told him as they walked across the great court towards the landing stage where she was to meet Edwin. ‘You may stay with me and run errands for me, and I promise that if you do your work well and honestly I will not beat you nor threaten you with starvation in a tower and later we will decide on more interesting work for you, in keeping with your skills. How does it sound?’
‘Like heaven, My Lady.’
‘I shall, of course, have to ask His Grace’s permission after explaining how you come to be in my care.’
‘I hope he won’t punish me for what I’ve done.’
‘I’m sure he won’t. He is a kind person with a strong sense of fair play. All you have to remember is that his bark is worse than his bite.’
 
Edwin had already summoned a wherry and was waiting by the steps when she turned up. They took Turnbull on board with them but instructed the oarsman to let them off at York Place. While Edwin stayed in the boat Hildegard escorted the boy to the steward’s office and explained what was needed.
Servants were summoned. The yeoman of the wardrobe took over. He told Hildegard little Turnbull would be washed and combed and told to try on several clean sets of clothes until he found some that fitted, then he would be fed and found some useful work to do. She walked back to the ferry with a lighter heart.
 
Through the eye slit they could see a group of aldermen in their bright gowns come out of the White Tower and
make their way to the nearby Salt Tower.
There were five of them. They had their hoods up as they crossed the yard, but before they passed one by one in front of the guard on the door, they pushed them back so he could see their faces before allowing them through. The prisoner had taken out a lens of polished glass and, cupping Hildegard’s hand in his, he angled it so that it was focused on the entrance to the tower and on the men’s faces as they went inside. He named them as they appeared and disappeared in the polished glass. Their images were somewhat distorted, flickering and uncertain, as the figures passed in and out of it like spirits of the air.
‘That’s the mayor in front, Nick Brembre,’ he murmured close to her ear so the guard could not hear him. ‘At his heels comes his brother-in-law Harry Vanner. No, tilt it a little. That’s it. The next fellow, see him? In the blue? That’s Adam Bamme talking to Will Exton. And the last fellow? Hold still.’ He adjusted the lens. ‘He’s a Bohemian called Petrus de Lancekrona. His sister is the Queen’s first lady-in-waiting. They turn up every day about this time.’ He let Hildegard take the lens and stood back. ‘I guess Alexander Neville would like to know. Now you can tell him you’ve seen them for yourself.’
He took the lens and slipped it inside his pouch with an over-the-shoulder glance at his own guard. Edwin had engaged him in some speculation about bear-baiting and had made sure the man’s back was towards them.
‘Who are they visiting?’ whispered Hildegard.
‘I don’t know but I’d say it was a Frenchman acting as
go-between for King Richard. They’ll be the ones doing the negotiations.’
Hildegard stared at him. ‘You believe these rumours about the King fostering a secret agreement with King Charles?’ She was shocked. ‘But that would be high treason.’
‘It’s unfair to call it treason,’ he replied shortly. He moved away from the window but Hildegard did not move. As Neville had told her, Richard’s enemies were claiming that he wanted to make a secret treaty with King Charles to pre-empt defeat when the French invaded and save his own skin by offering certain high-born men as hostages. There was even a rumour that he would offer Calais to the French in his eagerness to keep them from his shores. She had never believed he would contemplate such acts. She did not believe it now.
‘Why would they visit him in a group like this?’ she asked.
‘Talking money, of course. They’re all wealthy guildsmen. They’re the ones Richard has had to turn to for help now his coffers are empty. The French will be driving a hard bargain. Knowing them, they’ll want to deal face-to-face with the city men.’
‘It’s hardly credible the city men will barter away the sovereignty of their own country. What evidence do you have for such a view?’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve seen what I’ve seen. And you must have heard what people are saying. Do you have a better explanation?’ He glanced over to where Edwin, with great resourcefulness, was engaging the guard in a game of dice. ‘What else can they be doing in there?’
Hildegard was just about to turn away from the window when she looked back once more. What she saw made her stop.
She gripped the edge of the embrasure and peered down at another figure who had appeared. The way he walked was unmistakable. Long, swift, confident strides. He made no attempt to follow the others but went to shelter against the wall out of the wind. His white robe billowed in the eddies at the bottom of the tower but from where he stood he could observe the comings and goings around it without being too noticeable at ground level.
‘May I borrow your glass again?’
Peering through it, she angled it so she could see his face. It was the same friar as before – her rescuer, his hood thrown back, looking up at the sky, a faraway expression on his face. He closed his eyes. It was strangely intimate to see him up close and yet be so distant. When he suddenly opened his eyes he seemed to look straight at her. She hastily handed the lens back to the prisoner. ‘Useful object.’
‘It’s one of Roger Bacon’s inventions. The glass has to be ground with great precision.’
‘Who’s the fellow in white down there?’
‘Oh him,’ said the prisoner, peering over her shoulder. ‘Know him?’
‘Not as such,’ she replied. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘He has the freedom of the place, in keeping with the power of his lord and master,’ the prisoner said in a scathing tone. He went over to the table and reached for the jug of wine. Edwin had thought to bring some
provisions from York Place for him. They had not been told his name and he did not tell them it.
Ignoring his offer of a refilled beaker she sat down opposite and forced her thoughts back to the reason for their visit. ‘Who else have you seen here?’
He downed a mouthful of wine, then putting down his beaker counted them off on his fingers. ‘Only three your people might be interested in. One, the Marquess of Dublin, young Robert de Vere as was, and two, the Earl of Suffolk, the Lord Chancellor, Sir Michael de la Pole, and three, Chief Justice Tresillian – all King’s men and as staunch as you’ll ever find. Like Mayor Brembre down there.’ He gestured towards the window.
‘Anyone else?’ she asked sharply.
He gave her a knowing smile. ‘I am incarcerated here at the invitation of the Earl of Derby but he and the dukes of York and Gloucester have so far been absent.’
‘I shall mention that to His Grace.’
‘My thanks, Domina. I trust it will bring me his fond remembrance.’
‘I believe it will.’
He bowed, sombre for a moment, then became cheerful again. ‘I tell you, I don’t relish spending the rest of my days in here. Nor do I look forward to the possibility of an interrogation by that fellow in the friar’s habit you’ve just observed. Let Mr Medford know that.’
Hildegard looked at him askance. ‘Your meaning?’
‘The fellow’s role is well known, surely?’
She shook her head. ‘Forgive me, we are new to the city.’
‘Well let me tell you this. He acts as an interrogator for
the King’s council. In other words,’ he tapped the side of his nose, ‘we know who fills his coffers and hence where his allegiance lies.’
‘Where does it lie?’
‘With the devil who runs the council now Lancaster’s out of the country – with Woodstock, our glorious Duke of Gloucester.’ He gestured towards the window. ‘Despite his manner he’s as lethal as a paid assassin, which, some say, he is. He’s also said to speak a dozen languages, useful for the job no doubt, and he’s a member of a dangerous Castilian cult that believes in a saint you might imagine was pagan except that he serves to outwit the Moors.’ He shook his head.
‘I believe he follows the cult of St Serapion.’ The friar had told her that much as he escorted her towards the quay and safety.
‘Serapion.’ The prisoner gave her a look full of irony. ‘So far I’ve been lucky enough to escape his attentions since my first vetting when, I believe, I acquitted myself fairly well and only let him know what he already suspected. I can’t say I feel confident in standing up to more rigorous questioning. Of course,’ he added, hurriedly, ‘I’ll stand firm. You can tell Medford and his friends I say this in complete confidence.’ He gripped her wrist in a convulsion of sudden fear. ‘If I am racked, Domina, do not tell my wife. Keep it from her. She’s tender and would not withstand the knowledge of it. Promise?’
‘Of course, but—’
He shot a hurried glance at the guard and lowered his voice. ‘I shall commend her to you and your Order if I may add a codicil to that effect in my will. May I do that?’
‘It will not come to that. I’m sure Medford will do what’s necessary to free you before they even think of the rack—’
‘He will. I know that for a fact. But only when my usefulness as a spy within the Tower is ended.’
He gazed in a careful fashion at Edwin Westwode who was still throwing dice. ‘Don’t cross the friar’s path if you can help it, Domina. Warn your friend here too.’ He lowered his voice further. ‘Warn Medford, the King is in imminent danger. Some plot’s afoot and this friar, Rivera, is in it up to his neck.’

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