The Marlowe Conspiracy (40 page)

In silence, he stared at her as if brooding on something painful. No sound came from anywhere in the house. They each breathed noiselessly – almost without disturbing the air. His appearance had caught her off guard but she resolved not to show it. Instead of her usually submissive manner, she returned his gaze frankly and was the first to break the silence.

“So, Thomas, what did you expect?”

“Love and obedience,” he answered dryly.

“Is that really what you wanted? You expect that after everything that’s happened, or not happened, over the last year?”

“Those were your vows, I believe.”

“Vows! Oh, how noble of you to remember. For a while, I thought you’d forgotten our marriage – forgotten it completely.”

“Be careful, Audrey.”

“Well, I made no vow to strangle my feelings. If my marriage is cold I must find warmth elsewhere.”

“In Hell, perhaps?”

Wearily, she set the candelabra down and took a seat at her dressing table.

“I've tried...” she moaned. “I’ve tried with all my heart...”

“And you think I haven't?”

“No... perhaps... sometimes...”

“You’re the one most at blame for this failed union of ours.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”

He wandered past the bed and ran a finger across the sheets.

“Is it my fault you don't evoke the passions within me that you should?”

“You don’t have any passions.”

“No. The fault is yours. No man could love a whore like you.”

“And yet they do,” she said defiantly. “What is it that repulses you more, I wonder? That I should lie with another man, or that another man should lie with me... rather than yourself.”

He lurched near her with a murderous look.

“Be very careful, Audrey.”

She gripped the arms of her chair, frightened but unrepentant.

“You've been unfaithful too – if not with your body, then with your mind.”

“Don't speak another word!”

“I've seen how you look at Christopher!”

He lunged and grabbed her by the neck, shaking with anger.

“You strumpet, I'll cut your tongue out!”

She struggled to hide her fear. They watched each other tensely, neither daring to make the next move. She fought to breathe against the fingers pressing into her throat.

“You know, this is the first time, in months, that you've touched me.”

He hesitated, then slowly withdrew his grip and began to calm down. All the tension in his limbs seemed to abandon him.

A short silence followed. Audrey rubbed her neck and looked away toward the window. Thomas hung his head.

“We can't continue this way,” he said quietly. “There'll be no place at court for either of us.”

She didn't reply and kept her eyes on the window. His heel ground on the floorboards as he turned, paced away from her, and prowled around the room.

“We broke the playwright Tom Kyd a few hours ago. Everything is now in place.”

“Punish me, if you must, but leave Christopher and everyone else alone.”

“No. This is bigger than just you. And things have gone too far to stop now. Come the morrow, Christopher will be caught.” He flexed his jaw. “Because of you, I expect he'll come here. I have the guards prepared and ready.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He ignored the question and narrowed his eyes.

“He’ll be taken to the Privy Council. He hasn't a chance... unless I help him.”

“Oh, I understand, you want something from me.”

“Yes.”

“What? What in Christendom do you want?”

He smiled bitterly.

“I'll let Christopher flee the country one condition: that you break off the affair. If you agree never to see him again, I'll let him live.”

“How reasonable of you,” she said mockingly. “Do you think me some idle-headed simpleton?” She raised her arm sharply and thrust a finger at the door. “You’re a liar Thomas, a pathetic liar, and I won’t play your games. Leave me. I have no more words for you.”

“I won’t make this offer again.”

“Leave, Thomas. Now.”

He bridled at her tone. For a moment, he glared and shook his head. He strolled off toward the door and drew a key from the pocket on his sleeve.

“Then he goes to the council,” said Thomas, crisply sounding each syllable.

She responded with a huff and turned her back and faced the dressing table. She stared at him in the mirror. He glanced over her shoulder and saw the glint of Kit's broach.

“And by the way,” he sneered, “don’t even think of warning your dear poet…”

Before she could react, he left the room and slammed the door shut. A key grated in the lock and the bolt clicked over, making her prisoner of her own room.

She heard his feet stamp away along the corridor, then trample all the way down the stairs. Once he was gone, she held a shaking hand to her mouth, overcome with emotion.

SCENE TWENTY

Southwark.

K
it escaped the town early since there was a good chance someone in the area might recognize him. In the bare twilight hours before dawn, he stole through the streets to Bankside, made it over to The Rose, and convinced a stable groom to loan him one of Henslowe's horses. Afterwards, as fast as possible, he rode out into the countryside of Kent and traveled towards Scadbury Manor. To his relief, no one seemed to follow him.

Above, in the twilight sky, the moon turned a shade of grayish blue and assumed the tone of frozen skin. Clouds stretched down to the horizon, each one long and thin, like scars made by a whip.

Finally, after a long ride, Kit galloped his horse up to the forest skirting Scadbury manor and hastily jumped down from the saddle. Behind a thicket of blackberries, he tied his horse to a tree and made sure it was out of view from the nearby road. With long strides he then moved off into the forest.

As he hiked, a light wind brushed through the tops of oak trees. Leaves chattered. Ancient boughs twisted and squeaked. Moths fluttered in the shade. A snake’s tail slithered through clumps of leaves. For three quarters of an hour, he hiked onwards till he reached the edge of the manor grounds.

The back lawns to the rear wall of the house seemed an unbearably vast distance to run – at least four hundred yards. Crouched low, he observed the sides of the house for patrolling watchmen. He took a few deep draughts of air, held it in his lungs, and felt it push against the walls of his chest, charging his blood. He tilted forward onto the balls of his feet and crouched lower, his muscles tense and ready.

He burst out into the open. Sprinted past flower beds at the side of the garden. Dew immediately soaked through his leather shoes and kicked up in a spray around his calves. He drove the balls of his feet into the grass, streaking over the lawn. Thighs pushing, back straight, eyes tunneling ahead, he raced toward the back door. Two hundred yards... One hundred-and-fifty... One hundred... He hurdled a border of red stocks. His heel clipped the top blooms. He dashed over the gravel path, shot over to the wall, and pressed himself flat against the cool stones. From there, he tried the handle of the nearby door: it clicked open and he slipped inside the house.

Stealthily, he darted down passages through the manor. Most servants still lay asleep or worked only in the kitchens. Within two minutes, he arrived at the hall and stopped to listen for danger. His eyes checked the shadowed recesses of the area. He stepped forward onto the tiles. His foot squelched, still sodden from the lawn. On his tip-toes, he crept across the tiles, leaving a trail of watery footprints as he headed for the stairs.

About half way across, the pit of his stomach burnt ferociously. The hairs on his neck prickled. Something was wrong. He ignored the feeling and took another step towards the stairs. Then it happened. From somewhere behind him came the sound of Thomas’s voice.

“Up early this day, are we?”

Kit froze. Slowly, he twisted his body around.

Unknown to him, across the hall a door had opened silently and Thomas now emerged with two armed guards. Swords drawn, the guards rushed past Thomas and stalked over the tiles. Kit pivoted in the opposite direction. From niches beside the front door, three more guards entered the hall, closing off his exit. He stopped in his tracks and shook his head.

“Well done, Thomas.”

“Go quietly,” Thomas replied. “Make it easier on all of us. There’s no use resisting now.”

“What exactly do you hope to gain from this?”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. He circled Kit like a hawk watching its quarry.

“I get rid of you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Whitgift wants you dead and I'm the man to do it.”

“Whitgift’s a walking lie. You know that. He’ll throw you to the wind when he’s finished. You don’t honestly believe him, do you?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“Well... then... I don’t know what to say. I’m sure you and Whitgift will make a very lovely couple.”

“Jest all you like, Christopher. Your death will be the ashes to my phoenix. There’ll be nothing to endanger my advancement once you’re gone.”

“Glad I could help. I’ll do anything for a friend.”

“Ah, but you're not my only helper.” He paused and studied Kit's face. “Audrey played her part, too.”

“What?”

“Yes, I think of all my spies, she's the very best.”

Kit raised his eyebrows and gave a doubtful look.

Thomas smiled deliciously.

“Don't believe me? Hear it for yourself.”

Thomas beckoned Kit up the stairs and led him to the door of Audrey’s bedchamber. He unlocked it and tapped sprightly on the wood.

“Audrey! We have a guest!”

Kit stood motionless and waited. His toes felt cold in his sopping wet shoes. Everything was happening too fast. Nearby, guards kept their swords extended towards him, their faces solemn and pale.

Thomas remained at the door and kept his sight on the handle. After her initial refusal, it was a gamble whether she would really lie as he wanted. Nevertheless, it was a calculated risk: he felt sure she would try anything when she saw the dire extent of Kit’s situation.

Within moments, the handle turned, the door opened hesitantly, and Audrey appeared in the frame. She hadn't changed from the night before and her body made a crisp ‘A’ shape in her dress. She held her hands together as she stepped into the light.

“What do you want with–” She stopped dead, shocked at the sight of Kit encircled by guards and swords.

Thomas stared up at her coldly.

“Tell Christopher that you were always working for me,” he commanded.

She didn't react. Gradually, she looked at Thomas... then the guards... then worked her eyes back to Kit. She breathed deeply. Her face tightened.

“Tell him,” Thomas repeated.

She took the bait. Without a trace of emotion, she sashayed forward into the corridor and looked Kit straight in the eye.

“You must have suspected it?” she said candidly. “Couldn't you tell? Didn’t you know I wasn't really in love with you?”

Kit threw his head back and snorted derisively.

“Wonderful! This is quite a play you've arranged, Thomas.”

Audrey stepped closer to him.

“Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t one of your long-winded dramas.”

“I think I know acting when I see it, my lady.”

“Do you? Do you, indeed?”

“Yes.”

“But didn't you wonder why we visited the tailor alone? Or how I knew about the secret passageway? Or how I gained Baines’s address so easily?”

Her manner unnerved him. Bravely, he clapped his hands at her.

“Bravo! You're almost convincing.”

Audrey glanced over at Thomas. She turned desperate and approached Kit viciously.