A Parliament of Spies (31 page)

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Authors: Cassandra Clark

BOOK: A Parliament of Spies
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W
hen she woke up she was still sitting, albeit more stiffly, in front of the eye slit. What had roused her was the wind whining between the towers of the palace, howling over the slant roofs, snicketting inside her room through the window slit and making her cloak lift and shiver on the floor where she had dropped it the previous night. She could see the archbishop’s banner on the tower opposite. It was taut on its pole as the wind raked through it.
Out on the sliver of Thames visible between the buildings there was no sign of a war fleet.
Hastily throwing on her cloak she ran downstairs into the yard.
‘Did they come?’ she demanded from a passing servant.
His face was alight. ‘Did they heck! Turned back, didn’t they, the lily-livered losels! Blaming it on the wind again. Have they no oars?’ He raised a fist. ‘Engelond!’ and ran off, chortling with glee.
Relief flooded through her. They had turned back? It
was impossible. Why would they do that? She would go to the Tower and try to get in to speak to Rivera.
After that, to Medford.
 
The streets were unsafe, the porter warned when he saw her leave. Ignoring his advice, she fought her way through a jostling crowd to reach the landing stage and managed to hire a wherry as far as the Tower.
 
With nothing to lose or to gain they were able to talk openly now and with a naturalness that in better times would have led to greater closeness. It could lead nowhere, however, and for that reason they held nothing back. Rivera was direct. With his familiar slanted smile that seemed to imply so much he asked, ‘So you’re interested in Sir Ralph Standish?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘My neighbour, Jack Kelt.’
‘How on earth would he know?’
‘Gets everywhere, Jack. We play chess. He talks. I talk. Then he makes a move and takes my queen. He was allowed to come and see me this morning.’
She was surprised by that. ‘However he got his information, he’s right. It’s far from your territory, though. Standish’s death was in Scarborough Castle. It strikes us as ambiguous. We’re looking into it.’
‘Why so?’
‘I’m surprised you don’t already know, as you seem to know so much else.’
‘Rumours about poison, then?’
She nodded. ‘We even have a suspect. But the evidence
is only circumstantial and there’s no real motive, given the man’s allegiance to the same master as Standish and yourself, of course. It’s not our real concern. The coroner was satisfied. It’s only rumour from the household at Scarborough that prompts our interest, and the fact that before we left Bishopthorpe Palace one of the archbishop’s kitcheners died. It was only when we were on the road that we discovered that he’d been murdered and that he’d had a connection with Standish.’
‘Two deaths. And the link?’
‘Who knows? But there was almost a third death.’ She told him about the attack on John Willerby at St Alban’s.
‘A link there too?’
‘We can’t prove anything.’
‘So we’re talking here about the activities of Thomas Swynford?’ Rivera looked thoughtful but said nothing more.
Hildegard turned the conversation to other things. ‘Your informant was wrong about the French invasion.’
‘The fleet did set out. He was right about that. They were halfway across the Channel when something stopped them and they turned back.’
She risked the question that Rivera could have no interest in avoiding now and asked, ‘Did you tell Swynford something was going on in the Tower?’
‘He knew it was. That’s why he wanted me there.’
‘Did you have any idea they were making weapons?’
He shook his head. ‘Not until that moment when we stepped through onto the walkway and looked down.’
‘I wonder if Swynford suspected what was going on?’
‘He mentioned nothing of it to me. He thought they
had a French go-between in there. I doubt whether he’d have been able to keep a secret about weapons to himself.’
‘Maybe he heard something in the last few days? When did you last report to him?’
He ignored the latter question. ‘I doubt he could have known what was going on,’ he repeated. ‘Brembre even managed to keep the secret from Medford.’
She smiled somewhat ironically. ‘Medford certainly thinks he knows everything. There was a grim pleasure in seeing him wrong-footed by the King. But I wonder …’ She bit her lip. ‘I wonder who else knew?’
When he made no reply she said, ‘If word got back to any of the King’s enemies about a secret weapon you can be sure they would use the knowledge to their advantage. They might even use it to do some sort of deal with the French. “We’ll give you the secret if you take care of Richard.” Something along those lines?’
‘That would be high treason.’
‘Do you imagine Gloucester or Bolingbroke care about that? They think they’re above the law.’ She looked steadily into his eyes. ‘Outside the circle of the King, who else could have known? Can you find out?’
He laughed. ‘In here? What sort of visitors do you imagine I have?’
 
Before she left, Rivera came right up to the window of his cramped cell. It was unlike the comfortable quarters of the nobleman he had interrogated: no fire, no chair, no bed, no table, just an overflowing bucket in the corner and enough room to take two paces before turning. But at
least, so far, he had suffered no physical torture.
He brought his face close to the bars. ‘You betrayed me.’
The stale smell that wafted from within could not prevent her from moving closer. While the guard was looking away she whispered, ‘I did not intend that, Rivera.’
His eyes were bleakly compelling so that she was drawn to press her lips to his through the bars.
 
She was handing in her pass at the lodge when a servant caught up with her. Taking her at face value he addressed her as he would any townswoman. ‘Mistress, a missive from prisoner Rivera.’ He pushed a leather pouch into her hand. ‘Money for his housekeeper so she can eat. And would you also fetch him clean garments from his lodgings.’ He added, ‘It’s allowed for you to take it. We had it checked.’
 
The two men were sitting in the window casement when she was ushered in. They were playing chess. It looked as if Slake was losing.
‘Domina.’ Medford came forward, bowing, smooth as ever. ‘I understand you’ve just come from the Tower and have something to tell us?’
She had sent a note ahead of her arrival to make sure he would see her.
‘I believe you should free Rivera.’
‘Hah! I’ve no doubt you have personal reasons but do you believe we’ve got anything from him yet? He’s as close as an oyster.’
‘What you want from him is not what he yet knows.
My view is this. The French turned back for a reason. It must have been a good one. The change in the weather is a poor excuse.’
Medford listened carefully but he still shook his head.
‘Domina, we are ahead of you. The reason they turned back is from fear, because their spies discovered we possessed the secret of the ribauldequins. King Richard knew this.’
‘But,’ she cut in, ‘haven’t they known about them for some time? Haven’t they had ships specially built to take them back when they capture them, as they hoped? What if they realised they could not get their hands on them, wouldn’t that deter them? It would have been a wasted effort if they had no hope of getting hold of them. Should our question be: who told them they’d been moved?’
‘You imagine someone warned them, last night after the King gave the order?’ He looked askance. ‘Someone in the King’s party?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Not the Bohemians. They’re utterly loyal to Queen Anne. You mean somebody in Mayor Brembre’s circle?’
‘It seems so.’
Having been caught out once, Medford evidently decided he ought to listen. ‘Do you have a name?’
‘I believe if you free Rivera he’ll be able to find a name for you.’
‘Have you so beguiled him he’s chosen to come over to our side?’
She ignored that. ‘Set him free. It’s the only thing to do. There are contacts who trust him. They can know nothing of any changed allegiance, if it exists. If he can
find out who warned the French that the weapons had been moved it might lead you to the faction in the city who are plotting against the King. It might be one of Brembre’s aldermen, someone he trusts. So far the city has supported King Richard. Maybe now there’s a group gaining the ascendancy who intend to place their resources with the King’s enemies. Find the traitor. It will be proof of—’
‘Treason.’ Medford concluded as Rivera had done. For once his composure seemed to have been disturbed. ‘What do you think, Dean? Shall we allow the domina to loose her bloodhound?’
Slake got up and strolled over with a chess piece in his hand. He was smiling and in his crumpled velvet looked as benign as a well-fed cat. ‘That’s a very good idea, Domina. You believe your man will lead us to someone we would very much like to meet? Good.’ He grinned in a friendly fashion at Medford. ‘When the traitor tells us who his master is, all we have to do is get a nice sharp axe and chop off his head. Chop! Chop! Yes, let’s do that.’
 
Roger de Hutton. Unmistakably. Surrounded by his men, he was emerging from the Great Hall and came to a halt in Palace Yard. It was after midday and the first session had just ended. Hildegard could hear his voice from where she was crossing the yard some distance away and when she approached she could almost see his red beard bristling with rage.
His rant was directed at the behaviour of the dukes, especially Gloucester. His fellow barons also came in for a
tongue-lashing. When Hildegard greeted him he swivelled to acknowledge her, then, beckoning her closer, launched back in.
‘The fools can’t grasp it, Hildegard! Gloucester’s trying to bring the chancellor down so he can get at the King. Can they see it? No they can’t! It’s nothing to do with rents and profits. The Ghent fiasco. All that. They must be blind not to see it – or are they just plain stupid?’
‘Both, I would imagine,’ agreed Hildegard to placate him. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Their arguments are ground so thin they’re near transparent!’ he continued in astonished anger. ‘Don’t the rest of those sot wits understand they’re a step away from deposing the King? What’s bloody wrong with the stupid oafs?’
Hildegard stopped him long enough to ask again what had happened.
‘They’ve just impeached de la Pole! Can you believe it? The King’s chancellor, for God’s sake, thrown into prison like a common criminal!’
When he calmed down enough to tell her more she heard that although de la Pole’s nimble brain and knowledge of his own innocence had given him hope that he would prevail over his enemies, the chamber was deliberately packed with the King’s opponents and he had no chance when it came to a vote. The indictment was couched in such apologetic terms, however, even the law lords knew they were on thin ice.
‘While the city of London celebrates survival, Gloucester and his cronies are destroying England! They’ve got rid of the treasurer as well, Fordham,
the Bishop of Durham, poor sod.’ Roger seemed torn between helpless rage and astonishment that they could get away with it. ‘Then if that’s not enough,’ he continued, ‘Gloucester’s had the audacity to demand that all the King’s household should be dismissed and reappointed by the King’s own council – of which he’s now the head! Can you believe it? You can imagine what Dickon said to that.’
‘What did he say?’
‘After a few honest oaths he said, “I shall not allow the lowest scullion in my household to be dismissed at the behest of the council.” Then he walked out. He’s in the royal apartment at present with de Vere and Burley and a few others, deciding what to do.’
Roger gripped her convulsively by the hand. ‘At least the bloody French changed their minds, hey? I wonder how that came about?’
‘I’m told it was because the weather turned against them.’
‘Weather be damned. They can sail their own ships, can’t they? They’re bloody big enough!’ He gave her a long sceptical look. ‘The word is they were given a promise somebody couldn’t keep, then took fright at the reception they might be in for.’
‘Promise?’
‘King John of the French? That’s what I’m hearing. Remember what happened to the poor devil? Captured by us and then stuck in the Tower of London for years on end because his dukes wouldn’t pay his ransom? It gave Burgundy and his cronies free rein to run the country to their own advantage. I bet Gloucester wouldn’t turn
his nose up at an opportunity like that.’ He called to his guards. ‘Attend me! We leave!’
‘Wait, Roger—’
‘Can’t. Got another blasted meeting.’
Ulf had been hanging around on the edge of the group listening to all this, and now he stopped long enough to tell Hildegard that de la Pole had had his lands declared forfeit and his title stripped. ‘Nobody’s safe,’ he warned as he turned to follow his lord. ‘I hope Secretary Medford isn’t asking you to do anything dangerous? He’s as much at risk as all the King’s party.’

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