London in Chains (33 page)

Lucy took hold of the stool at the end of the table and moved it so that the board separated her from Nedham. ‘Nay, I thank you, no wine!' she told the serving-man. She sat primly.

‘You're not a Puritan?' asked Nedham in dismay.

‘Indeed I am!' she replied. ‘In your note you offered me
work
, Mr Nedham.'

‘A Puritan as well as a Leveller!' Nedham shook his head sadly. ‘Where's the harm in combining work with pleasure?'

‘I see nothing here that would give
me
any pleasure, sir.'

He smote his heart, grinning. She looked him sternly in the eye. ‘I am not so desperate for work that I would damn myself, Mr Nedham. If your offer requires me to whore for you, I'll leave now.'

‘Oh, oh, oh! The kitten has teeth!' Nedham poured himself more of the wine. ‘I
am
offering you work, Mistress Leveller. You managed John Lilburne's press all last summer, did you not?'

‘Aye.'

‘And then went to work for Mabbot?' He smirked.

‘Aye,' she agreed. ‘And, indeed, I think that
does
mean that Mabbot would be slow to suspect me. He knows me for a Leveller – and he dismissed me very meanly and will want to avoid me.'

Nedham raised his brows appreciatively. ‘Clever puss!'

‘If I am a
cat
, Mr Nedham, are you a
cur
? You need someone to print your newsbook and keep your press safe from the Stationers. I know how to do both. I need work and I'm willing, but only if the terms suit. What became of your last printer?'

‘He thought he was suspected and told me to take myself elsewhere – which I'm doing now. I can offer you as much as Mabbot did.'

‘Sir, what I printed for Mr Mabbot was in keeping with my sympathies; it was also
lawful
and
licensed.
You must offer me
more
than he did!'

Nedham sniggered. ‘I'm sure I have it, too.'

‘I meant
money
, Mr Nedham.'

‘This greed is un-Leveller-like, surely!'

‘Consider it my refutation of that foul
lie
that we'd do away with property.'

He laughed. ‘Six shillings a week, then! Are all Leveller girls so hard?'

Six shillings a week; a whole shilling every working day! For that sort of money she could rent . . . well, no, not a
room
, but certainly a
bed
– and still have enough left to live on. She struggled to keep her pleasure from showing. ‘Very well, sir.'

‘If you'll whore for me,' Nedham said with a lazy smile, ‘I'll double it.'

She jumped to her feet, glaring, and he held up his hands. ‘Nay, it was a jest!'

She was quite sure it hadn't been. ‘A lewd, sorry one, then,' she said in disgust. ‘And they say you're so witty!'

‘Jesu have mercy! You know where to strike! I shall try to think of better jests in future. I think we shall agree very well, Mistress Wentnor.'

The serving-man, Harry, came in looking excited. He whispered something in Nedham's ear. ‘What!' exclaimed Nedham. ‘Are you sure?'

Harry shrugged apologetically. ‘Nay. I've not seen them anywhere but a-horse going through London. But I think so.'

Nedham frowned. His eye fell on Lucy. ‘Mistress Wentnor. Will you go with Harry here, as though . . . as though he were showing you the way to the privy. Cast an eye over a pair of new-come guests, then come back and tell me if you recognize either of them. Don't let them know you've taken note of them!'

Lucy suspected that some of Mabbot's men had just turned up. She bit her lip, wondering if she should walk out before anyone connected her to Nedham. Six shillings a week, though . . . She nodded and followed Harry from the cubby-hole.

The main room was just as dark as before and the smoke was even thicker. Harry led the way over to the other side of the room. ‘In the corner stall,' he muttered out of the side of his mouth. ‘The two Army men with their hats pulled down.' Lucy saw who he meant: they were sitting in a stall in the darkest part of the room and their faces were further shadowed by the wide brims of their hats. Harry, with Lucy trailing him, went up to them. ‘One moment, mistress!' he told Lucy loudly. ‘More ale, sirs?'

The two men looked up. They both wore the plain buff-coats of ordinary cavalrymen and their swords were leaning against the table. One of them – a fairish man with a pointed beard – was unknown to her; the other – an older man with a ruddy face and red nose – seemed familiar. ‘Not yet,' he told Harry.

Harry nodded, then turned back to Lucy. ‘Down the passage, and outside on the left!' he told her, waving an arm.

‘Thank you,' murmured Lucy, blushing. She went out, then continued on down the passage and outside to the left: she might as well use the privy while she was about it.

She was readjusting her skirts when she remembered where she'd seen that red-nosed farmer's face before: riding through Southwark, with his Ironsides behind him. She staggered from surprise and fought down a mad urge to go to him and demand,
What have you done with Jamie Hudson?
Instead, she went quietly back into the tavern and crossed the main room without even glancing at the stall in the corner.

Nedham was on his feet, pacing, when she returned to the cubby-hole. He gave her a look of sharp question.

‘It's
Cromwell
!' she whispered, still aghast.

‘Ha!' Nedham stood still, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘So Harry thought, too; and if one's Cromwell, then there's no reason to think that he was wrong about the other. Cromwell and Ireton! Now what, I wonder, are those two about?'

‘They were dressed like common troopers,' said Lucy, amazed by it.

‘Oh, oh!' exclaimed Nedham, grinning. He sat down at the table again, tapping it with his fingers. ‘What think you? Are those two holy saints here to meet a pair of whores on the sly?'

‘I cannot think any man would take his
son-in-law
whoring with him!' said Lucy, scandalized.

‘Ah, you're an innocent maid, after all!' said Nedham. ‘I've known it happen. Still, you've the right: old Noll wouldn't want his daughter struck with the clap, blighting the little Nollivings to come! Perhaps it's not Ireton. You recognized Cromwell; what of the other? You said naught of him.'

‘I wouldn't know Ireton from Adam. The man is slight, fairish, with long hair and his beard done in a point.'

‘Huh. That should be Ireton. Well, well! I think I will stay here a little longer and see how this comes out!'

Harry came back in. ‘They've got a man watching the gate to the street,' he informed Nedham.

‘They're expecting someone,' said Nedham. He dug a sixpence out of his purse and tossed it to Harry. ‘Here's thank you and well done! I'll wait here, Harry; let me know what they do. And bring me another bottle!'

Lucy hesitated: she knew she ought to conclude her business with Nedham, then go back to the Overtons – but it was possible that Cromwell's business here was something the Levellers would want to know about. She seated herself.

Nedham eyed her. ‘You need not stay. I'll meet you tomorrow, at The Fleece in Covent Garden at about ten o'clock.'

‘Why there?'

‘Because I usually take my morning draught there.'

‘At
ten o'clock
?'

‘Such as you, Mistress, may rise at the crack of dawn, but I must burn the midnight oil, labouring in taverns such as this to collect the news; I do not rise so early! Meet me tomorrow at The Fleece and I'll lead you from there to the press.'

‘I'll wait, sir, until I know why Cromwell came here.'

‘What's it to you? Is this woman's curiosity, or are you a Leveller spy?'

‘I am a
printer
, sir, as you well know since you hired me! But if I come upon some news that might help my friends, of course I will pass it on to them.'

Nedham stared hard; she stared back. He grinned suddenly. ‘Well, then! Come sit by me, sweet Lucy, and have some wine!'

Lucy got up and moved her stool over against the far wall. Nedham glared indignantly, then sighed and poured himself more wine.

They waited for perhaps an hour. Nedham put aside his wine unfinished, took out a notebook and pen, and began scribbling something that involved many crossings out and secretive smirks. At last Harry came back.

‘Their man came and spoke to them,' he reported. ‘They both rose at once and went out the back way, to the stables.'

Nedham raised his eyebrows, then got to his feet. He seemed to know his way around The Blue Boar because he didn't go through the common room but along a passage, through the kitchen – which was empty, this late at night – and then out into a silent, frosty stableyard. He halted, and in the silence they both heard voices coming from the stable. Nedham walked silently across the yard and along the stable wall.

‘—and then you'll let me go?' came a man's voice, sharp with fear.

‘You seem an honest fellow,' was the reply in a deep, steady tone. ‘We've no wish to do you any harm. We will dismiss you once we have searched your saddle.'

‘My
saddle
?'

‘Your
horse's
saddle, then!' said a third voice impatiently; it was lighter in pitch than the second speaker, a tenor rather than a bass. ‘Give it here!'

‘But—'

‘Give it here, I say!'

There was a silence. Nedham stayed where he was, leaning against the stable wall and listening intently; Lucy stood a yard or so behind him, scarcely daring to breathe. Inside the stable, a horse snorted uneasily; there was a jingle of harness.

‘Here!' said the tenor voice. ‘Just as he said.'

Another pause, and then: ‘I knew nothing of this!' said the first voice, even more frightened. ‘I was told to take letters to Dover, b–b–but not
that
one; I knew nothing of
that
one, I—'

‘Silence!'

Silence fell, thick and heavy. Lucy tilted her head back and looked up at the November stars, cold and white and beautiful.

‘Well?' asked the tenor voice.

‘Read it for yourself,' said the deep voice. It now sounded desperately weary. ‘He has played us false. God forgive me! I have pawned my reputation for that man; I've offended my friends; I've stood up on my hindlegs in the House and brayed of His Majesty; I have denied my own loyal men and done my utmost to suppress them when they cried out against him – and
he has played us false.
God help us! God forgive us! Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, oh Lord God of my salvation!'

Nedham turned away abruptly. He saw Lucy, stared a moment blankly, then gestured back towards the inn. They hurried wordlessly across the yard and back into the empty kitchen.

‘Say nothing of that to anyone,' ordered Nedham.

It was dark in the kitchen; he was only a shape in the dimness. She strained her eyes, trying to make him out. ‘It was a letter from the
king
,' she said. ‘It was sewn into the saddle. They were waiting to intercept it.'

‘I said, say
naught
! If you want to work for me, not a word! Aye, if you keep your lips sealed, you may have a gold angel for it!'

‘He might have taken his throne again
last summer
!' she whispered in disgust. ‘But the selfish, deceitful rogue wanted
all
, and so the kingdom must bleed again! Why, in the name of God, do you want to protect him?'

He took a sudden step forward, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her.

She jammed a foot down on his toe, got an arm up between them and shoved him off, then slapped him hard across the face.

‘God damn!' exclaimed Nedham indignantly, feeling his mouth where she'd hit him.

‘Don't you touch me!' she told him in a low voice. ‘What, you thought you could silence me by force?'

‘By
love
, I thought! Christ, my lip is bleeding!'

‘That's your notion of
love
, is it? God have mercy on your wife and children!'

‘I've neither.'

‘Then God send you never get any! I'll keep quiet about your master's doings, but only because there's no good that would come of speaking out about them.
We
already knew Charles Stuart for a lying knave, and now Cromwell does, too. As for people like you – you don't
care
what he is, do you? If what we heard tonight ended up in
The Moderate
, your Royalist readers would say it was only a Leveller lie or part of some Leveller plot. I'll keep our name clear of it, thank you!'

‘If you'll keep quiet, I'll be content.' Nedham sighed. ‘Do you still want the work?'

She hesitated, then thought of stitching sermons and of six shillings a week. ‘Aye.
If
you'll keep your hands to yourself!'

For a moment Nedham was quiet. Then he laughed. ‘Oh, you're a rare one! “'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity: she that has that is clad in complete steel!” Very well: meet me tomorrow morning at The Fleece.'

It was very dark as Lucy made her way back to Coleman Street: the lanterns which lighted the earlier hours of the night were all dark. The streets were foul and icy, and she slipped several times, though she managed not to fall. Her mind churned with questions about what she'd just heard.
He has played us false
. What had been in that letter?

There was an obvious answer: the king had concluded a deal with somebody else, on terms completely unacceptable to Cromwell. There would be another war.