Holy Spy (45 page)

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Authors: Rory Clements

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical, #General, #Thrillers

BOOK: Holy Spy
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Shakespeare knew all too well why the gaols were being evacuated but said nothing. At the door to the cell where Sorbus was being held, he turned to the keeper. ‘Leave us now.’ The turnkey bowed and left, clutching his coin. Shakespeare gazed at Sorbus. He looked a sorry sight.

He was sitting disconsolate on the floor, his small legs in rusty irons, his normally immaculate clothes torn and coated in dirt and dust. His hair was awry and his face bruised. A drop of blood had trickled from his nostril and was now dried to a crust. He had either been dragged here or had been beaten and knocked to the ground. He was such a slender fellow, thought Shakespeare, that he could easily have been carried here like a child, under a strong man’s arm. And yet somehow, despite being brought so low, he still contrived to look stiff and aloof.

‘Mr Sorbus, I am sorry to find you here.’

At the prisoner’s side was a leathern blackjack and an empty platter. ‘Indeed, Mr Shakespeare, so am I. I am told these fetters will lose their rust and gain a bright sheen if I am here long enough, which they doubt.’

‘I see you have ale, at least. And food.’

‘Aye, the keeper was happy to provide it for a penny. He’ll bring me more, too, if I pay him.’

‘What is the charge against you?’

‘Harbouring a known felon, Mistress Katherine Giltspur.’

‘And is there any truth in this allegation?’

‘I do not think it wise for me to answer such questions under the present circumstances.’ He raised a finger and ran it across his throat. ‘My prospects for long life do not appear too healthy. I am not sure that speaking to you will improve my chances.’

‘Has she, too, been arrested?’

He shrugged, then surreptitiously shook his head.

‘I have just come from Giltspur House. I must tell you I was shocked more than I can say to hear of your arrest. The sentries would not allow me entry.’

‘Well, clearly my arrest must confirm Mistress Katherine’s guilt. That is what they will now be saying. That is what the old widow, Mistress Joan, will say. She will be spitting blood and pins.’

‘You know, Sorbus, I had always imagined you felt disdain for Kat, as though she were not good enough for your master or, indeed, for you.’

‘Folk are wont to make assumptions, usually false.’

Shakespeare went down on his haunches so that he might speak more quietly. ‘I beg you, if you know where she is, tell me.’

‘I know nothing.’

‘If you are innocent, Sorbus, I may be your only chance of life. Yours and Kat’s . . .’

The prisoner laughed bitterly. ‘
You
, save
me
? Mr Shakespeare, you are the reason I am here in these shackles. Just ask him.’ He nodded towards the cell door.

Shakespeare turned. Richard Young was standing there, hands on hips and legs akimbo. Shakespeare rose to his feet, annoyed that he had not heard the justice’s approach.

‘Well, you’re here now, Shakespeare. That’ll save me the chore of picking you up.’

‘Why have you brought his man here, Young?’

‘For harbouring a most notorious murderess and keeping her from the righteous clutches of the law, a felony for which he will hang by the neck until dead. Probably on the same scaffold as you and the bitch herself, God willing.’

‘You are talking of Katherine Giltspur. Where is she?’

‘I know where she was – Mr Sorbus’s little hiding place in Pissing Alley. We will have her soon enough.’

‘Pissing Alley? What house is that?’

Young jutted his chin at Sorbus. ‘His. And he had her there.’

‘What evidence is there?’

‘We have evidence. The evidence of the Si Quis door and a note left for her which this man took. He was followed to Pissing Alley. She wasn’t there, but there was a comb with strands of fair hair. That’s evidence enough for the court – that and the Si Quis note. And so he will pay the penalty.’

‘A friend of mine is seeking a position as a footman,’ Sorbus said quietly. ‘He cannot read, so I went there to see if I could find him a suitable position.’

‘A mere coincidence then, Mr Sorbus,’ Young sneered. ‘Tell that to the court of law. That will save your neck by and by.’

‘What court of law?’ Shakespeare demanded. ‘You do not have the woman, so you cannot have a charge; thus you have nothing.’

‘God damn you, Shakespeare, we have all we need. Did you think we would not follow you and discover your tricks? We will find her and then you will
all
hang. You may think yourself protected now, but you will see the truth soon enough.’ His hand went to his dagger.

Shakespeare’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it for he saw that Young was not about to enter the fray. Instead, Shakespeare addressed Sorbus. ‘Do not despair, sir. There is error here. I know you to be wholly innocent and will do all in my power to prove it.’

Then he pushed past the weakling frame of Richard Young and strode out into the warm summer air.

Chapter 38

 

Shakespeare had never seen Sir Francis Walsingham in such a high state of anticipation. Though no word had come down from Staffordshire, he had convinced himself that Babington’s letter must have already made its way into Chartley Hall and, even now, be in the eager, shaking palms of the Queen of Scots.

‘Her Royal Majesty awaits news with ill-concealed elation. The ambassador of France was with us this morning, and I feared for a while that she would reveal all to him. “Monsieur Châteauneuf,” she said, her eye twinkling like the Venus star, “you have much secret intelligence with the Queen of Scotland. But believe me, I know
everything
that is done in my kingdom”. The Baron de Châteauneuf looked full of suspicion at this.’

‘Will he act on it?’

‘He can do little now. It is too late for the French to intervene. The only thing they could do is warn the Pope’s White Sons, but all the ports are now closed. To leave the country, they will have to go by secret means. That will not be easy. One or two might escape – but we can live without them, so long as we have Babington, Ballard and Savage.’ Walsingham rubbed his hands. ‘And that is in your hands, is it not, John? Yours and Poley’s.’

‘You will probably know by now that I was not admitted to their feast last night.’

‘I heard. But it will not prevent you from observing them. You are still intimate with Savage, are you not?’

‘Perhaps. I will seek him out this day, but the fact that I was barred from their company will not have helped his own anxieties.’

‘What’s done is done. I believe Babington at last realises how high the stakes are and has begun to take precautions. Excluding you was perhaps the first sensible thing the man has done. Poley told me in great detail how Babington revealed the contents of his letter to all present, and the mixed reactions he received. The news was certainly not met with universal rejoicing.’

‘That does not surprise me.’

‘There was a measure of panic. Both Salisbury and Tichbourne seemed on the verge of storming out and riding for their home counties. It was only Robin’s clever assurances that calmed their anxieties. Doubtless some will try to go in the next few days. In the meantime, I must prepare for the move. The court goes to Richmond in the morning. You must hasten to Savage’s side.’ He nodded to Shakespeare that it was time for him to depart.

Shakespeare did not move. ‘Before I go, Sir Francis . . .’

‘I am busy, John. The council meets in ten minutes. There are arrangements to be made, correspondence to be read and written.’

‘Forgive me, it is the matter of the murder of Nicholas Giltspur.’

‘What now? I do not have time for this.’

‘I need a warrant to go into Giltspur House, and a squadron of guards to enforce it.’

If Walsingham thought his man was jesting, he did not laugh, merely stared at him with disbelief. ‘What insanity is this? Have you gone moon-mad, John?’

‘I am certain the truth about Giltspur’s death lies within the walls of that house. There are secrets there, and I need to conduct a search.’

This time Walsingham did laugh. ‘Forget it, John. It will not happen.’

‘Believe me, Mr Secretary, I do not enjoy coming to you with this matter. I would go to Judge Fleetwood, but I need more than he could provide. I need a royal guard, untainted, for this involves matters of a sensitive nature. I believe you know what I mean, sir.’

‘Do I?’ Suddenly suspicious.

‘Would you have me speak it?’

‘Yes. If you have something to tell me, then say it. I may delve into men’s souls but I cannot read the contents of their minds.’

Shakespeare had been considering this on the boat journey downriver to Greenwich Palace; could he afford to let Walsingham know that he was now privy to this great secret? Now it was being unavoidably prised out of him, for he had already said too much.

‘Speak, John.’

‘It is something I should not know, something I was reluctant to believe – and yet now I do believe it to be true.’

‘You are circling the subject. Time presses.’

‘Money, Sir Francis – the money that comes from the felon Cutting Ball to the Treasury of England. It passes through the hands of the Giltspurs.’

‘Who told you this gibberish, this half-boiled kettle of lies?’

‘It is true, is it not?’

‘Who spake it?’

Shakespeare shook his head. ‘I discovered this for myself. You pay me for my ability to seek out such secrets. My method is mine to know, but not to say. But I
can
tell you this: a great sum has disappeared from the Giltspur coffers. I am not yet certain why, but I believe this to be the reason for Nicholas Giltspur’s death.’

‘You surpass yourself. Am I to believe you are saying that my lord Burghley conspired with Cutting Ball to murder Nick Giltspur? Next you will be writing comedies for the playhouse stage.’

‘Mr Secretary, that is not what I am saying. But nonetheless, I am certain the truth lies inside the heavily guarded fortress that is Giltspur House. And so if you wish to know who killed Nick Giltspur – a true friend of England – then I must crave your assistance.’

He wanted to ask about Sir Robert Huckerbee and his links with the Giltspurs, yet this seemed neither the time nor the place. He had clearly pushed his master as far as he would go this day.

Walsingham said nothing for a few moments. His long features were drained of the jubilation that had greeted Shakespeare on his arrival. His eyes moved from his intelligencer’s face to the open window through which the sound of birdsong intruded, then back to Shakespeare. ‘What I crave from you is your mind to be fixed to the purpose in hand: keep tight with the plotters who would kill our Queen and supplant her with another. I fear you are straying into dangerous waters.’

‘Again, it is what you pay me for.’

‘Be careful. Clever answers will not always save you. As to Giltspur House, it is not going away, so you have time. I must take advice, John. This matter you speak of concerns others. Come to me at Richmond and I will give you my answer.’

 

 

The walking was slow and becoming slower. At first, Boltfoot had kept up a reasonably steady pace, but his club foot made the going tough.

‘Shall we take a horse or two, Mr Cooper?’ Maywether suggested as they passed a fenced field with half a dozen of mares grazing, just west of Faversham.

‘I have no wish to be hanged, Mr Maywether.’

‘At this rate, we won’t be in London by Christmas. It would have been quicker to go by way of the Grand Banks.’

‘Go on ahead if you wish.’

‘And you are certain you have nothing of value to sell, whereby we might buy or hire a mount?’

‘You have seen the contents of my purse. Not enough to buy a horse’s leg.’

‘That’s England. The poor get poorer and the rich get richer. Tell me, do you like the cockfight, Mr Cooper?’

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