The King's Chameleon (16 page)

Leaving Miles to grin sardonically, he turned and shoved Gooding before him up the stairs. Once in the room above Faulkner bid Gooding remain silent and listen.

‘I have no time, Nathan, for lengthy explanations, but the King has thrown me a line and posted me a Captain. I am to go abroad into the Low Countries to smoke out Judith and Henry. If I can get them home I think that we
might
be cleared of trouble, but 'tis a mighty gamble. If not, God alone knows what will happen to us, but I need you to do
exactly
as I say. It is now the end of February. In a week from this night, do you have old Toshack bring the
Hawk
to Harwich. He is to watch for a small man-of-war called the
Blackamoor
. I think her to be a pink, or some such vessel. If he sees her he is to await orders from me. If she does not come by the end of March and he has heard from neither of us, he is to return to his moorings. Is that clear?'

Gooding nodded and Faulkner went on. ‘Tomorrow you must send Hannah to wait upon Katherine Villiers at Leicester House. Do you know where that is?'

Gooding had baulked at the mention of Katherine's name, but he nodded and said: ‘Near Drury Lane.'

‘Yes. Hannah is to present her compliments to Mistress Villiers and introduce herself. She is to explain that Mistress Villiers will be welcome here as soon as she is quit of her responsibilities and duties in settling the affairs of the late Queen of Bohemia –' Gooding looked up as Faulkner drove on – ‘to whom she has been principal Lady-in-Waiting. Hannah is to tell Katherine that I have been sent by Lord Clarendon's personal order upon a special service. You know its nature and purpose but it is unnecessary that either Hannah or Katherine is made aware of it at this time. Tell Hannah that I rely upon her to execute this instruction as I do you to ensure all this is accomplished, for I cannot do it myself.'

Gooding nodded. ‘I understand … at least I understand that which you wish me to undertake.' He hesitated, and Faulkner was about to speak when he went on, ‘Kit, does this foray into the Low Countries have anything to do with the Regicides there?'

‘I cannot tell you that.'

‘You already have. Is Judith …? Yes, I see that too. What shall you do? You cannot despatch her in preference for this … this Villiers woman.'

‘I am not without honour, Nathan. I am simply without alternatives. You must trust me to act as best I may. I would not have Judith dead, no, nor Henry … especially not Henry, but now I must go and gather my effects. Do you go and quiz that fellow below stairs.'

‘I would rather walk to Hell on hot coals.'

‘I think that is what I am about to do,' Faulkner said, turning his back and making for the small attic room where he threw his precious telescope, his wheel-lock, some powder, balls, his cuirass and a few other useful odds-and-ends into his portmanteau before clattering down the stairs to his bedroom; here he added small clothes. By now the house was roused, and in his haste he was aware of the inquisitive faces of the maids. Then Hannah, wrapped in a blanket, met him at the head of the lower stair.

‘Father, what is it? Why all the noise?'

Faulkner lowered the portmanteau and drew Hannah towards him. ‘I am called away on state business, my dearest Hannah. I shall be back in a week or two; your uncle will tell you all about it and what you are to do in my absence. I am sorry, but I have no time now and must be off.'

‘But where are you going, Father?'

Faulkner did not answer; picking up his traps he drew them downstairs and left them by the front door. Summoning Miles from the parlour, where he picked up his commission and returned it to his doublet, he shook hands with Gooding and went out into the night. Hoisting the portmanteau up behind his saddle, he mounted and an instant later he and Miles had gone.

Captain Tobias Sackler was a thin, pinch-faced man who seemed to feel the cold north-north-easterly wind coming off the North Sea to churn the brown waters of Harwich Harbour into a nasty little chop as a personal assault. A pendulous dew-drop hung from the end of his nose, which was unusually large, as though his Creator, in forming Sackler's proboscis, had drawn most of its substance from his face. Thus his cheeks were drawn and hollow, his jaw pointed and his eye sockets deep-set. Only his round dome of a forehead seemed to have resisted this process, while his eyes reinforced the notion of a man permanently frozen, being of an icy pale-blue. He wore no wig, the lank wisps of hair that protruded under the brim of his plain round hat made a poor attempt at a fringe, shedding a considerable quantity of dried scurf which clung tenaciously to the shoulders of his cloak as he stood to greet his guests upon the wind-swept deck of His Majesty's Pink
Blackamoor
.

Downing suggested they went immediately to the cabin, where if he expected a glass of fortifying wine he was to be disappointed. In the coming days Faulkner would learn that, whatever first-appearances suggested to the contrary, Tobias Sackler was a stickler for doing his duty and had no time for fol-de-rols. He was pure Commonwealth, through-and-through, which made him an odd choice for this mission. If Faulkner foresaw trouble in this assessment it was clear from the start that Sackler was a seaman of competence. Nor did he seem in the least aggravated by Faulkner's presence, the purpose of which Downing made clear as he handed Sackler a written order from the Admiralty Board.

‘You will see from your orders, Captain Sackler, that you are required to place yourself and the vessel under your command at the direction of myself and Captain Sir Christopher Faulkner. Sir Christopher has a commission—'

Sackler looked up from his brief scanning of the Admiralty letter. ‘Sir Christopher's reputation is well known to me, Sir George,' he interrupted. ‘I am perfectly acquainted with my duty. I have the cable hove short and this wind, being in the nor'-nor'-east, will allow us to leave if we do so before it veers.' He paused a moment, and then went on. ‘The
Blackamoor
provides but poor accommodation, I fear, but please make yourselves at home. I have ordered dinner, such as it is, for an hour hence, though I have no table-money.'

‘I have that if you wish to obtain some provisions,' put in Downing.

‘It seems scarcely worth the wait. I can have you off Helvoetsluys by tomorrow evening; until then there is enough. I will gladly accept the money and provide some viands for the homeward passage.'

‘Very well,' said Downing, whereupon Sackler left then to attend to his duties on deck. Downing looked about him. ‘Looks as though we shall be on short commons gentlemen,' he said to Faulkner and Miles.

Short commons they may have been, but after a sleepless night and a jolting journey from London to Harwich, made at a fast clip thanks to frequent changes of horses, they were sufficient to enable Faulkner to sleep. He woke, uncomfortable and stiff, shortly before the following dawn. The
Blackamoor
had cleared Harwich and doubled Landguard Point before dark. In threading his way out though the sands to the Sunk, before finding deeper water, Sackler proved himself a master of his craft, reacting to the cries of the leadsman in the fore-chains as the pink's head was set for the Herringfleet and the Dutch port of Helvoetsluys.

Sackler was still on deck when Faulkner, wrapped in his cloak, dopey from sleep and stiff beyond remedy, staggered out onto the wet deck. Sheets of spray flew inboard over the weather bow, and at first it seemed to Faulkner that Sackler, a thin figure that seemed part of the
Blackamoor
herself, was the only man on deck. Then he was aware of others hunkered down under the weather rail, out of the wind, and a brace of men at the tiller, their pale faces faintly illuminated by the binnacle lamp.

Faulkner moved uncertainly across the deck, staggering uphill against the heel and grasping the after mizzen shroud.

Sensing his presence, Sackler turned. ‘Good morning, Sir Christopher.'

‘Captain Sackler,' Faulkner responded shortly. The two stood in silence for a moment, then Faulkner observed, ‘I regret I have not my sea-legs; it is some time since I was at sea.'

Sackler grunted, but said nothing more, returning his attention to the distant horizon. Faulkner was at a loss to know quite what he was doing on deck, for they were clear of the land and the off-lying shoals and, while half a dozen smacks were in sight to leeward, there seemed nothing pressing that an officer-of-the-watch might not handle.

‘You have competent officers, Captain Sackler?' Faulkner said, provoking Sackler to turn round. The first light of dawn fell upon his odd features, causing a skeletal impression, but there was enough light for Faulkner to watch as the dew-drop fell, only to be replaced, a few moments later, by another. Sackler's thin lips drew into a smile; even in the half-light it was a surprisingly warm smile, which struck Faulkner as odd in the extreme, appearing as it did upon the face of a man who might have passed for Jack Frost himself.

‘I prefer to remain on deck at night, Sir Christopher. My officers are very good, but young and prone to hiding from the wind. We have been some months on the fishery, and they are best in daylight when their services are most needed. Young men need sleep more than older men so I cat-nap in the daytime and, when on a passage such as this, prefer my own company on deck.' Without any change in tone or pace Sackler added, ‘We served under Blake together, Sir Christopher. I was in his flagship off the Kentish Knock and Dungeness.'

‘Ahh. I thought you a Commonwealth man.'

Sackler shrugged. ‘Times change and a man must earn his bread, if only for his dependants.'

Faulkner thought for a moment and then threw caution to the winds. ‘What do you know of your present duty?'

‘Why, sir, to convey our Minister to the United Provinces back to his post at The Hague by way of Helvoetsluys.'

Faulkner thought Sackler's response was guarded, and he remarked with an air of casual amusement, ‘A most diplomatic reply for a diplomatic mission.'

‘I am less sure of your own purpose though, Sir Christopher,' Sackler replied. ‘The
Blackamoor
is small enough not to require too many officers of rank, yet you are to direct her. That strikes me as a little odd.'

‘Yes, I am to land and assist Sir George. I do not know how long we shall be ashore, but I shall be returning and hope to have company. I shall require you to convey us back to Harwich.'

‘And would this company consist of Regicides, Sir Christopher?'

‘Not those that I am in quest of,' Faulkner said.

‘And what of those that others are in quest of?'

Faulkner considered the matter for a moment and then asked, ‘What would be your position if I were to say that it is very likely that they may be Regicides?'

‘I should deplore the fact, Sir Christopher, but I should do my duty.'

‘As you see it, or as I see it?'

‘As you command me, sir,' Sackler responded, his voice cold.

‘You see,' Faulkner said, his tone one of reason rather than rank, ‘if it went against your conscience, I could order you to put about now and to return to Harwich where, in a day or so, I shall have my own vessel at my own disposal.'

‘You mean, Sir Christopher, the matter will happen, whether or not Tobias Sackler has as hand in it?'

‘I fear that the affair upon which I am engaged will indeed happen; at least, it will if it lies within my power to accomplish it.'

‘I would not survive such a dereliction,' Sackler said shortly. ‘I pray you remember this conversation was initiated by yourself. I have already said that I shall do my duty and that I have those who depend upon me.'

Faulkner bit his lip. Who does not? he thought to himself, but this was not at all what he had intended, though he had known his approach might well miscarry. ‘I seek only an assurance that we shall not be betrayed and that I may rely upon your presence in the offing when I require it,' he said.

‘Needs must, when the devil drives. You may rely upon me.'

‘I would have your hand upon it,' Faulkner said, removing his right gauntlet and extending his open fist.

Sackler took it, his own hand dry and frozen. ‘You may have my very soul, Sir Christopher.' For all its feeling of bloodlessness, Sackler's hand gripped Faulkner's with a consoling firmness.

‘I shall count upon you, sir,' he said. Having relinquished each other's grip they stood a while regarding the scene about them. Then Faulkner remarked, ‘She goes well to windward.'

‘Aye, she is a weatherly little bird,' said Sackler, patting the rail beside him. ‘We shall be off the Herringfleet just after dark. Would you have me heave-to until daylight?'

‘Let us see what sea is running at sunset.'

‘Very well.'

The wind had dropped at sunset and backed round to the westward so that Sackler stood inshore under easy sail, and he passed word to Faulkner who came on deck after a frustrating day. He had hoped that Downing would have discussed their affairs and how he proposed to manage them after they had landed, but Downing spent the day dozing and Major Miles lay prostrated by sea-sickness, a weakness that proved the only thing to lighten Faulkner's mood during the entire passage.

Having pointed out the failing breeze, Sackler indicated that he was intending to stand as close inshore as he could, a plan attested to by the low, monotonous call of the leadsman in the lee fore-chains as they crept inshore. The Dutch coast lay to leeward, a dark smudge across the darkening horizon, its uniform flatness broken, even in the twilight, by several church spires. Faulkner cast a quick look round then at the ensign at the stern.

‘Dutch colours,' Sackler explained briefly.

‘Do you have a competent boat's crew?' Faulkner asked.

‘The best. And a good young officer to accompany you. If you would indicate a place where you wish to be picked up in due course, please show him. The tides serve this week to give us a flood during the evening, so any rendezvous near midnight will be ideal …'