The Judas Blade (6 page)

‘It’s best not to torment yourself with such thoughts,’ he said gently, ‘or you won’t last another day in this game.’

‘Game?’ Betsy’s temper rose again. ‘That’s what all this is to you, is it? Just another stage, on which to strut about.’

‘Well, is it not the same for you?’

‘No!’ She shook her head, staring at him defiantly. ‘I had other reasons for coming here.’

‘Money, you mean?’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘Well, of course. You think I’d be here otherwise, in the bog of Europe?
Though in the matter of reward, dear Mistress Brand, I should warn you that you face disappointment. You’ll get no thanks from Williamson for what you do. Moreover – to put it plainly – I haven’t been paid in four months.’

‘Oh, flap-sauce – you’re merely trying to annoy me!’ Betsy cried. ‘Mr Lee – Williamson if you must – wouldn’t deal with me in such a manner. Nor would Caradoc! He’s a … well, he’s …’ But she was faltering, and they both knew it. Chest heaving, she looked away.

‘Perhaps I should ask your pardon.’ Mullin’s tone softened. ‘You’re tired and unnerved … why shouldn’t you be, on your first foray into this blighted profession?’

With a sigh, he stood up. ‘It’s almost dawn, and I haven’t slept either,’ he added. ‘We’ll confer in the morning. You’d best call your servants – I mean your friends.’ He hesitated. ‘Don’t fret yourself – I’ll smooth things with the big fellow. I may need him, if things turn sour.’

After a moment, Betsy stood up too. ‘That’s well,’ she replied, though her mind was elsewhere. ‘Until the morning.’ She yawned. ‘Before you leave, will you answer a question?’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘Can you tell me what a trepanner is?’

At first Mullin looked as if he would laugh. But instead he met her eye and said, ‘A trepanner’s many things: a swindler, a sharper … call him what you will. The sort who befriends others only to draw them out, then betray them.’ And when Betsy stiffened, he gave a nod. ‘You understand me. Such men – and women – may be found in many places: prison is one. I’ve performed such services myself, more times than I care to recall.’

He moved to the bed, took up his cloak and hat, then walked to the door and threw it open. Immediately Peter Crabb appeared, filling the entrance. But at sight of Mullin taking his leave, he came quietly into the room.

With a careless air, Mullin threw his cloak over his shoulder. Then he checked himself, turned back and faced Betsy. ‘Some
call us the Children of Judas, madam,’ he said, his expression bleak. ‘A fitting enough term, is it not?’ Then he went out.

Eleanor came in and stood beside Crabb. Both looked at Betsy, but she barely noticed them. Instead she gazed at Mullin’s empty cup, on the floor where he had left it.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, to her dismay, Betsy learned that she would have to take ship again. The town of Delft, it seemed, was some distance away, and travelling by road would be difficult. So the party, which now consisted of a Captain and Mrs Mullin and their servants, would embark from Neiuwpoort by coastal barque to the port of Rotterdam on the River Maas. From there it was but a short journey to their destination.

‘It’s for the best,’ Mullin told her. ‘The weather’s fair, and we’ll have time to converse.’

He, Betsy and Peter Crabb stood in the square, which was now bustling with life. The day was indeed fine, and Mullin appeared in good spirits for a man who’d had only an hour’s rest. Peter Crabb, who had slept in the stables, said little. To Betsy’s eye, Mullin’s promise to ‘smooth things’ between himself and the young man was yet unfulfilled.

‘Then it seems I’ve no choice,’ she answered. ‘But I can’t promise to keep my stomach from rebelling.’

‘Nonsense, this will be a pleasure trip.’ Mullin smiled at her, and at that moment Eleanor emerged from the doorway of the inn with her baggage. So without further delay the group set off.

The barque, it turned out, was open-decked, which in one way was a relief to Betsy. With a fresh breeze about her, she thought she might manage the voyage up the coast without mishap. When she found out how far Rotterdam was, however, she balked. 

‘Seventy miles? But we’ll be at sea for days!’

‘Two, I expect,’ Mullin replied. ‘We’ll put in tonight along the way … speaking of which, how much money do you have?’

‘I was given a purse of fifty guilders,’ Betsy told him, which prompted a curse.

‘That skinflint Williamson. He’s no better than his master!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean fifty guilders amounts to only five pounds. Our esteemed Secretary of State, Lord Arlington, is a miser – and so is his underling, that wily Cumbrian!’

‘Well, this is no place to speak of it,’ Betsy said quietly. They sat in the stern with the better-off passengers, women in hooded cloaks and gentlemen in feathered hats. Eleanor and Crabb were forward, among the other travellers.

‘But it is,’ Mullin countered. ‘It’s the perfect place. For none of these Hollanders understands English.’

‘How do you know they don’t?’

‘Because I speak enough of their tongue to understand
them
.’

The boat was leaving the mouth of the River Yser now, and venturing into the open sea. As its sails filled, Betsy recalled Williamson’s letter. ‘Perhaps it’s time you shared some of your knowledge with me,’ she said.

‘I’d prefer you to tell me what you know first,’ the other replied.

Just then the vessel heaved. So, partly to keep her mind off the matter of seasickness, Betsy decided to give her fellow
intelligencer
a full account of her time in the King’s Bench, with all that she had learned from Venn. When that was done, she spoke of the orders Williamson had sent, which puzzled her.

‘Why do you think he was so insistent that I report only to him, and stay away from our ambassador?’ she asked.

Mullin frowned. ‘Well might you wonder. The truth is, Williamson likes to keep everything to himself. He may be Arlington’s man, but there’s little love between those two. Each hides intelligence from the other.’

At that Betsy gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘Cods,’ she
muttered. ‘Does no one trust anyone else in this bear-pit … this
game
, as you call it?’

‘It’s best to assume they don’t,’ the captain said. He gestured to the shoreline on their right, the boat having turned to
starboard
. ‘Observe, if you will. It looks peaceful enough, doesn’t it? This prosperous little country of tile-makers and
tulip-growers?
But dig deeper, and you’ll find the place seethes with fear and unrest – and intrigue. Why, we’ve had spies here for over a century! As for our ambassador: Sir William Temple left for England months ago, and won’t be back. Sir George Downing now sits in the Hague – the most rabid, Dutch-hating rogue you’ll find anywhere. Would you care to guess why he’s here?’ And when Betsy shook her head, he bent closer. ‘Because the King means to declare war on the Dutch.’

Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. She’d thought he was in jest, but one look was enough.

‘When?’ was all she could say.

‘Soon enough. He wanted to do it back in the summer, but he’s been persuaded to wait until next year. Early spring, would be my guess. That’s why he’s suspended Parliament, so he doesn’t have to ask their leave.’

‘Persuaded … by whom?’ Betsy asked. ‘His ministers?’

‘By King Louis, more like,’ Mullin replied. ‘Once the French come in with us, we’ll have a real war on our hands – not a fiasco like we had back in sixty-seven!’ He grimaced. The memory of England’s humiliation four years ago, when the Dutch fleet had sailed boldly up the Medway and bombarded the towns, still rankled with all her subjects.

‘But … I don’t understand,’ Betsy said, bewildered. ‘Don’t we have an alliance with the Dutch?’

‘It’s not worth a crock of spit,’ the other said flatly. ‘And de Witt and the other Dutch leaders are suspicious now – who could blame them? Even if those two crafty monarchs still bombard them with lies and promises. I speak of our dear Charles, and his good friend Louis Bourbon.’

‘Then, what in heaven’s name am I doing here, in all of this?’ Betsy exclaimed. ‘I don’t understand that either.’

‘Nor do I, just yet.’ Gently, Mullin took her arm and tucked it under his. ‘In the meantime, let’s play a dull married couple and talk of trivia, shall we?’

‘I thought you were certain no one could understand us,’ she said drily.

‘I’m as certain as I can be. But perhaps we’ll save the rest of our discourse for later. I need to ponder on what you’ve told me. Meanwhile …’ From the folds of his cloak, he produced a small silver flask and uncorked it. ‘Will you take a sip, madam?’ he enquired. ‘It will help to settle your stomach.’

This time Betsy didn’t hesitate. The brandy was coarse, but in the circumstances, very welcome.

That night, as Mullin foretold, the barque put ashore at a point halfway along their journey. It turned out to be the busy port of Flushing, about which even Betsy knew a little. Ships sailed often between here and England, which prompted her to wonder aloud why she’d arrived at Neiuwpoort.

‘Vessels from home are closely watched,’ was Mullin’s answer. ‘You’d stand out at once.’

The two were sharing a supper of spiced beef and onions, washed down with wine which even Mullin found acceptable. Also at the table, in a private room at an inn near the waterfront, were Peter Crabb and Eleanor. Away from scrutiny, their servant roles had been set aside.

‘Do
you
not stand out here?’ Peter Crabb eyed his master across the table. ‘An English captain?’

‘Sometimes,’ Mullin replied with his mouth full. ‘But I not only speak the language, I carry a safe conduct to almost anywhere. There are some excellent forgers here, if you know where to look.’ He turned to Betsy. ‘Perhaps we should get a pass made out for you, too.’

But Betsy, who had been quiet during most of the meal, threw
him a dark look. ‘I don’t intend to stay here long enough to need one,’ she said. ‘As soon as I have any intelligence to give to Mr Lee, I’m taking the first ship home.’

The others glanced at her. Soon after stepping ashore, Betsy had acquainted Crabb and Eleanor with Mullin’s news, which they received calmly. In fact, they showed so little surprise that she’d begun to wonder if she were the only one who didn’t know about an impending war. Now, she would wait no longer.

‘I think it’s time you told us what’s going on in this country –
Captain
,’ she said, pushing her plate aside. ‘I don’t like being kept in the dark.’

‘Nor I,’ Crabb murmured. ‘I’d like to get a clearer picture of how things stand, here in the Provinces.’ He raised his cup, drained it in one, then put it down with a thump.

‘Well then – let me enlighten you.’ With a sigh, Mullin took up his own goblet. ‘You know of the treaty, I assume? The one our King signed with Louis of France at the end of last year?’

‘Buckingham’s treaty?’ Crabb nodded. ‘Louis has agreed to help the King—’

‘May I continue?’ Mullin interrupted, wearing his sardonic look. ‘There’s something even you don’t know, Crabb. Indeed, it’s known only to the King and two members of the cabal: Clifford, because he holds the purse-strings, and Lord Arlington, Master of Everything. Though naturally, Williamson has learned of it too. Not much slips past him.’

He took a drink, then glanced round the table. ‘Before I tell you what it is,’ he said, ‘I want a solemn oath from each of you not to repeat it. If it became known that I’d told anyone, I’d end up in the Tower at best. At worst …’ He waved his hand, a gesture that was becoming familiar. Whereupon Betsy spoke up.

‘You have my word.’ She glanced at Eleanor, who flushed.

‘I’m loyal, sir,’ she told Mullin. ‘I think you know that.’

The captain gave a nod, and turned to Peter Crabb. ‘I know you’ll swear,’ he said. ‘Men like us will swear to anything if we have to, won’t we? So let me add a little codicil to our
agreement
,
just to clarify matters.’ Then after a theatrical pause, he added, ‘If it
did
become known that I’d spilled this news, I would know who’d informed on me. In which case, by one means or another you would die, Crabb. Do you mark that?’

Silence fell. Through the wall, voices of other diners could be heard, while from outside sounds of the port drifted in. Betsy’s eyes flew from Mullin to Crabb, and back to Mullin.

‘I mark it well – sir.’ Crabb met the other man’s gaze without flinching. ‘But I’ll give my word, whether you think it worthless or not. If the matter touches on the safety of the King’s realm, I’m as loyal as anyone here.’ He paused, and matching Mullin’s stare, spoke softly, ‘You are truly His Majesty’s loyal subject, are you not? I ask because, should it turn out otherwise, it’s you who would die. And it may be that I’m the one who has to kill
you
.’

At that Mullin bristled – but before he could speak, Betsy broke in impatiently. ‘Oh, flap-sauce, Wrestler!’ she snapped. ‘Haven’t we enough to concern us, without your hectoring?’ She frowned at Mullin. ‘And you, sir: put aside your swagger and tell us what you know. Then we’ll see if it was worth the theatrics.’

All eyes went to Mullin again. So, finally, after taking another fortifying drink, he made his revelation. ‘What’s known only to Arlington and Clifford – and to Williamson,’ he said, ‘is the existence of a secret treaty between our King and Louis, that was signed at Dover six months before the other one. It’s almost identical to the one the Duke of Buckingham thought he’d secured – the fool believed it a triumph of his diplomatic skills. However, Royal Charles didn’t tell him of the first treaty, which differs from it in vital respects. Some clauses are missing –
especially
the one in which Charles swears to convert. In short, our king will declare himself a Roman Catholic.’

Having delivered his little speech, Mullin poured himself more wine. He was about to refill Betsy’s cup, but she waved the jug away; the news had stunned her, as it had the others.
There had always been rumours of Charles’s religious leanings, she knew; his brother the Duke of York was already believed to be a Catholic. But if the King were to convert too …

‘Now you see, madam, why I wished to think over the
intelligence
you brought,’ Mullin went on. ‘Rumours of plots always abound, of course, and they seldom amount to anything. But there’s been an odd atmosphere about London in the past year or two. Men speak of the Jesuits now seen in the capital, and the number of masses being said. It’s almost as if the Papists knew something we didn’t, wouldn’t you agree?’

Now Betsy’s mind was busy. ‘Perhaps,’ she allowed. ‘In which case, I suppose those who are angry at the way things move might resort to desperate means. Hence—’

‘Hence the need for us to investigate the doings of your friend the late Mr Venn, and his circle,’ Mullin finished. ‘This
Projection
of theirs, the chief mover in which appears to be a bogus priest …’ He frowned. ‘It’s real enough, I’d say, though its shape remains to be discovered. I don’t imagine these hotheads would attempt a repeat of the Gunpowder Plot, and yet …’ He smiled faintly. ‘Once in Delft, we must busy ourselves. This priest—’

‘The
Papenhoek
– the Papists’ Corner,’ Crabb broke in, as if only now finding his voice. ‘We should scour that first—’

‘And scare him off?’ Mullin snapped. ‘The man will bolt at the first hint that anyone’s looking for him. In any case, he may no longer be posing as a priest.’

‘Then where would we begin?’ Betsy put in. ‘We don’t even know what he looks like.’

‘But that’s why we’re here,’ Mullin said, somewhat
impatiently
. ‘To move among the malcontents – the English, that is. You’ll be surprised by how many of them there are in this country, madam. Scots and Irish too – the sweepings of Britain. Then, having charmed them and won their confidence—’

‘I know – befriend and betray,’ Betsy broke in drily. ‘Isn’t that what you were about to say?’

When Mullin didn’t answer, Crabb spoke again. ‘For myself, I’ve no orders apart from to protect Beatrice, and help in any way I can,’ he said. ‘Nor do I speak the language, save for
ja
and
nee
. The captain knows the terrain, so I must be ruled by him. Yet,’ – he eyed Mullin again – ‘I’m uneasy about this whole venture. So wherever Beatrice goes, I believe I should go too… with your approval, that is.’

‘Of course, Crabb,’ Mullin answered. ‘Though I assume you’re not referring to her bedchamber. That might excite
suspicion
, don’t you think?’ Turning pointedly to Betsy, he put on his most winning smile. ‘I’ve engaged the best room for you, madam,’ he said. ‘Though I regret I won’t be sharing it with you. I have a friend in Flushing, whom I’m eager to see.’