Gideon's Angel (18 page)

I told my tale in English for the benefit of Billy, asking Maggie to translate all to d’Artagnan. And when I had finished, after some minutes of recalling the horrors I had witnessed, there was silence. Billy swept his palm through his long greasy hair, muttering a low oath. Maggie seemed torn whether to believe or not for my sake, and d’Artagnan, ever the sceptic, wore a thin, parsimonious smile as he stared at me. He was obviously deciding whether I was plain mad or just devious. It was he who finally broke the silence.

“And what would you have me say then, Colonel, about your mysterious vengeful angel? I saw nothing of what you described yet I was there too.”

“You were not in or near that room, sir,” I said. “Perhaps it had gone by the time you discovered me on the floor. But the threat was clear. A foul outrage is about to be executed in London.”

“But my dear fellow,” said d’Artagnan, “You might have been senseless from your beating and have dreamt the whole visitation, no?”

“I was wide awake, and frightened for my very life.”

“And what do you propose,
Monsieur
?”

I swallowed, still unsure whether I had made the right decision. “I must warn Cromwell of the plot to kill him. This is what His Eminence had an inkling of—what he had tasked
me
to uncover. Cromwell must be told that the Fifth Monarchists will strike in the next two weeks. If he dissolves Parliament as many already believe—and the angel foretold—then they will strike the sooner. You can help me warn him. Surely you carry a pass of safe conduct from the Cardinal. You could go to Whitehall or even Hampton Court.”

D’Artagnan laughed as if he had just heard a good joke. “Tell the Lord General that the Angel of Death is coming for him? You came back to England to assassinate him, didn’t you? It was an easy supposition for us to make and one the Cardinal has taken seriously.” He slowly shook his head at me. “No, Colonel, I am no simpleton and neither are you. You cannot expect me to escort you to within arm’s reach of Cromwell, carrying such a foolish story.”

I looked down at the rosemary, thyme, and fresh shoots of lavender that sprouted in the garden bed in front of my borrowed shoes. “Very well. I confess it
was
my intention to kill the dictator. But that was before I learned certain truths, even before the other night’s revelations. In my heart I know now that he is the only man who can keep England from destroying itself. As a comrade in arms, I beg you to believe me. I wish to save the Lord General, not destroy him.”

D’Artagnan got up and brushed off his breeches. “Colonel, you know full well that there are plots hatched against Cromwell month in and month out. His intelligencers, including
Monsieur
Thurloe, are fully aware of what is afoot at any moment. The Post Office is an impressive collection of fellows. His Eminence is even jealous of their skills, I think. If these radical Protestants mean to murder Cromwell, it is no doubt already known. A web is probably being spun against them as we speak.”

I stood and gently gripped the musketeer’s arm. “D’Artagnan, no bodyguard can stand between the unworldly creature I have seen in that house and Cromwell. He needs to be warned. You must allow me to go to London, indeed you must come with me!” My plea sounded foolish even to my own ears. And if it was an avenging angel that served the Fifth Monarchists, what weapons could ever be raised against it? Was it God’s will?

I need not have worried that d’Artagnan would ally with me to face the beings of the ether. He placed his hand on my shoulder, clearly convinced that I ought to be taken to Bedlam. “Sir, we will have you convalesce another day or two yet, and then we will return to France. These last days have overwrought you, admit it to yourself. The Cardinal seeks no punishment against you. You’re too valued a servant to the Crown. Come, end this fantasy, sir. Accompany your good lady back to Paris and leave all this nonsense behind.”

I nodded slowly. Not in agreement but in recognition that I had failed to convince him. “I am hurt and tired, d’Artagnan. You’re in the right, sir, in the right.”

Maggie was then at my elbow. “Come, Richard, let us go back inside.”

I turned and caught Billy’s gaze. “He doesn’t believe you, that much I can understand at least,” said Billy. “Don’t you worry, Mister Eff, I believe. And even if only half of it’s true, then God help us all.”

I smiled back at him. “What can a man do, Fellow Creature, when he is but a man.”

“Amen, sir.” But something in Billy’s eyes told me he was far from ready to give up on things so soon. A certain look, maybe a flash of intent he let slip, that said he was still willing to take revenge for himself, for me, and for the kingdom.

I was as meek as a lamb the next two days. D’Artagnan and Maggie somehow managed to find me some new rig to replace that which was bloodied and soiled and, marvel of marvels, produced a fine pair of black boots for me too. I’d never been comfortable in those shoes. Maggie didn’t trust me to go back to France of my own free will, that I could see in the way her eyes watched me. And her words were carefully chosen ones, meant to elicit from me even a subtle hint that I intended some rash escape. But I kept my counsel to myself. It was late in the afternoon on the second day at the safe house before I had the opportunity to find a moment alone with Maggie. We strolled through the walled garden of the big brick house, along carefully tended pathways of slate flags and beds of marjoram, parsley and chives. Pushing down further into the garden in the full, warm sun, we entered a stand of box and yew, musty and fragrant. I pulled her in after me and embraced her in the green shadows and cool darkness of their thick canopy.

“I was angered when I discovered you were with him,” I whispered. “But my heart could not stay cold—a few days ago I thought I would never see you again, and then, thank God, you were here with me.”

“I would follow you again, my love, to save you if needs must. I have my father’s doggedness in such things.”

I brushed her cheek and caressed the locks that lay hidden beneath her linen cap. “Do you believe me? About what things I have seen. About what the angel foretold.”

Her smile was one of pure, sweet faith. “Richard, I do believe you.”

“Even so,” I said, looking down and brushing my lips over her bosom, “the Lieutenant is sound in his judgement. There’s nothing more I can do here. Cromwell must fight his own battles with the monsters he created. We have to go back. And I must make amends with the Cardinal somehow.”

She stroked her hand along my now smooth chin and mouth. “I’ve uncovered a new person entirely here under that beard. It’s a change for the better, I think. It will be as it was before.”

“
Monsieur
d’Artagnan has treated you civilly, I hope... I mean, as you travelled together.”

For just an instant, one eyebrow arched, and I knew I had ventured too far.

“He has ever been the gentleman, Richard. Is this jealousy I hear?”

“No, Maggie,” I said. “It’s just that I must know that you have confidence in him. He’s your protector on this voyage, is he not?”

Maggie laughed. “Well, I suppose I have had to look after him here in England as much as he has looked after me. He speaks barely a word of English.”

“Just make sure you stay with him at all times... for safety’s sake.”

She squeezed me. “But I will have two gentlemen to escort me back to Paris, not just one!”

“Of course, you will! We three will escort one the other.”

B
ILLY
C
HARD’S PACING
across my room worried me. “Here now! Are you settled in your mind with all this? If not, I must know now, not later.”

The host was out in Topsham to market, d’Artagnan had gone off to make final arrangements about a coach and two, and Maggie was safely tied up on the bed, gagged, and as furious as a cat in a sack.

“Look here, Colonel... Mister Eff. I mean to keep my bargain with you. You know it’s what I want, sir. And I’ll pay back whatever fucking thing it was that cut me up and anything in league with it. But this is a buffle-headed plan as ever I heard.”

“Aye, not a clever plan, I warrant. But I’m afraid I can’t think of any other. If I can gain us but a few hours start, we’ll confuse the hounds. Don’t you worry. Are the horses out of sight of the front of the house?”

Billy grimaced. “Goddamn it, Mister Eff. What do you take me for, somebody kicked once too many times in the head? I’ve got the provisions and kit strapped to the saddles. Even stole a sword for you from the downstairs hallway.”

“Billy, I should have given you more credit.”

We were both quiet for a minute or two. Then he said, “I’m not ashamed to say I’m afraid. Fear is what’s kept me alive many a time, it has.”

I nodded.

“But,” he said, absently rubbing his wounded forearm, “I have to know, sir. I have to know what is out there. If it’s all true then my creed is wrong—I’m wrong. And the world is about to end.”

“I don’t know about the end of the world but I do know I owe General Cromwell a blood debt from long ago. I mean to warn him and pay it back.” I walked over to the bed and looked at Maggie. She had stopped struggling now, just lying motionless, eyes wide open. When she fastened them upon me, she could have turned me to stone.

“Do not despise me, my love. There is no other way. I can’t take you to London with what is about to happen there. D’Artagnan will take you back to France and out of harm’s way. Stay with him. You alone have my heart and no other, Maggie.”

Her eyes held both rage and hurt but little else. I would not find forgiveness that day.

My voice fell to a whisper. “Maggie, please forgive me for this.”

“Mister Eff! He’s coming now.”

I had Billy’s pistol pressed to the Frenchman’s temple as soon as he passed through the doorway. He slowly raised his hands.

“And now,
monsieur
?” he said.

After Billy had relieved d’Artagnan of his rapier and bound him at the foot of the bed, he then went about stripping off a pillowcase to fashion a gag. The musketeer looked up from the floor, almost comically holding on to his dignity as he sat there trussed up, as if we were in some game.

“Colonel, you are truly a greater fool than I believed if you think this will afford you anything. You surely must know me better by now. I shall not give you rest.”

“I do know you, comrade,” I said. “And I begged you as a sword brother for your help. You refused. I now must take what gambles I need to. I ask you, sir, to escort Marguerite safely to Paris to her father’s house. That may not be your duty to His Eminence but it is your sacred duty as a gentleman.”

“You can only expect to steal a few hours’ march on me, Colonel. You’d be wiser to use your little dagger on me now.”

I shook my head. “You may yet take my life from me, sir. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day. But I cannot take yours. Sometimes loyalty trumps practicality. And besides, I trust to fate to decide what the future brings.”

D’Artagnan let out a little laugh. “Ah, Colonel,” he said, “I always suspected you were a Calvinist at heart!”

I motioned for Billy to fasten the gag on him. Then I thought of something. I knelt down and reached into his coat. D’Artagnan glowered at me for he instantly guessed my intent. I pulled a small packet out of his right lining pocket: the Cardinal’s red wax seal stood out proudly, the size of a Spanish crown. I hoped it was a letter of safe passage or some such diplomatic pass. As the Gascon’s bronzed face went darker still, I felt I was probably right.

“Billy, go get the horses.”

I got up and moved over to Maggie once again. I leaned over, and kissed her upon her forehead. This time, tears were spilling from her eyes, liquid pearls of trust, lost. Probably forever.

Chapter Twelve

“G
OD, THE STENCH
!”

“It’s the tanneries a few streets behind, no doubt,” I said. “You’ll grow used to it before long.”

Billy’s face wrinkled up like a dried apple and he swore aloud. For my part, I felt relieved. We had made it all the way to London without being caught by d’Artagnan or the redcoats. I had taken the road to Lyme Regis assuming that d’Artagnan would never believe I would go where he wanted me to. From there, across to Southampton and then north to London; we had made it to Southwark and London Bridge in a week.

I shot the wooden bolt home on the door to our chamber and threw my satchel on the bedstead. We were now ensconced at the Bear at the bridge foot. As we had arrived at the old inn, Billy’s jaw fell slack at the sight of the rows of pikes high up on the ancient stone gatehouse that hulked across the road: upon each pike a rotting, crow-pecked head. I needed no reminder that a similar fate awaited me if I should fall into the hands of the army. But that was the very reason I had chosen to make Southwark our destination. People here knew enough not to ask questions. It was and always had been a lawless place and the Roundheads generally left it well enough alone. What with the stink, the whores, tradesmen, pickpockets and bull-baiting rabble, it was hardly the chosen haunt of a God-fearing Puritan.