A Queen's Champion, page 13
“I don’t think there is a soul in London who has not heard of the fool the Bishop of Winchester made of me,” Richard replied wearily.
“I have also heard that the Bishop is in the Tower whilst you still have your liberty,” Nonny pointed out.
“For the moment,” Richard said, swilling the wine around the inside of the glass.
“There is some other news as well,” Nonny was smiling broadly. “Were you going to tell me?”
“I’ve told no one yet,” Richard admitted before raising the glass to his lips.
“It is not a match to your liking?” Nonny asked, a furrow appearing between her superbly sculptured eyebrows.
“I don’t want to be here any more, Nonny. I’ve too many people who wish me to do their bidding,” Richard replied, settling the glass on the top of one knee.
Nonny laughed, a gentle sound like water playing in a fountain. “The higher you rise, my pretty, the greater the price. Even you know that, but also the more delightful the rewards.”
Richard considered the glass for a few moments before looking up and meeting her enquiring gaze. “I have managed to place myself between two masters, neither of which will trust me, and both of whom will seek to use me to outwit the other. It is not a desirable position to be in.”
Nonny sighed, one of her hands found a gold pendant on a chain around her neck and turned it slowly between her fingers. “Richard, you have never been one to serve another, you may pledge your skills to a master but not your allegiance.”
“You might be right,” Richard replied.
“I am right. You are not a man to be controlled, if you were I would have done that a long time ago. So now you are pulling at the invisible chains others have wrapped around you, that is all,” Nonny said, settling back in the chair, and still toying with the jewel.
“Perhaps I always am,” Richard sounded weary.
“Bon Dieu!” Nonny exclaimed sounding exasperated. “When you were in Seymour’s house you used your position to ingratiate yourself with his contacts, then you placed yourself between Mary and Northumberland and played both sides until you determined who the winner would be. Afterwards you pried your way into Mary’s court and set the Spanish Ambassador against the Bishops.” Nonny ticked each off on her fingers, “Then you tried to extort money from…”
“Hardly extort!” Richard cut in.
“Let me finish! Then you tried to extort money from the Order, and you’ve spent the last year at least trying to untangle yourself from the web you got caught in. At no point, until now, were your actions governed by a master, and that, my dear, is what you don’t like now.”
Richard stared at her, and then said. “It’s rather more complicated than that.”
“I’m sure you think it is,” Nonny let go of the pendant and it dropped back to the end of the chain, then she pronounced, “You are a man who serves his own cause, Richard.”
“Is it that simple?” Richard replied.
“Stop pulling against the chains, the fly in the web only traps itself further,” Nonny said bluntly.
“I have already turned too many times like the fly, I am afraid,” Richard said.
“Self pity is the excuse of the weak man, and you are far from weak. Foolish, occasionally, loyal undoubtedly, but not weak. I am sure there are threats to your life and liberty and probably more, but as I said, when the stakes are high so are the risks,” Nonny said, then leaning forwards she said slowly, “Did I teach you nothing! Never enter a card game unless you want to win.”
“We haven’t spoken for so long, and sometimes I forget just how well you know me,” Richard replied, smiling.
There was a sudden urgent rap on the door.
“Can I never have a moment’s peace!” Nonny said, then raising her voice said, “Come in.”
The door opened and a woman Richard recognised appeared around the door.
“What is it, Molly,” Nonny asked briskly.
“It’s Master Hetherington, Madam,” Molly said, biting her bottom lip.
“For God’s sake, what has that silly man done now,” Nonny said, then turning to Richard she said. “Master Hetherington tried to take one of the girls home last week, making a promise to marry her.”
Molly looked nervously between Richard and Nonny but didn’t offer an explanation.
“It’s alright, come in and tell me what has happened,” Nonny reassured.
Molly closed the door at her back, and leaned against it, as nervously she said, “It’s Master Hetherington … he’s….”
“I understand that it concerns him, what has he done now?” Nonny pressed.
Richard, the glass balanced on the chair arm watched with amusement as the drama began to play out before him.
“He’s …. He’s….” Molly stammered.
Sudden understanding settled with alarm on Nonny’s face. “Good God, not again! That’s the second one this month! Who was he with?”
Molly, still looking stricken, fixed her eyes on the floor. “He was with Maud.”
Nonny stood suddenly, fury on her face. “Master Hetherington was a good man and good client, now he’s neither. Where is he?”
Molly’s hand had found the door handle behind her back, and looked very eager to escape from the room. “Upstairs, Madam, in the green room.”
“Get Nathaniel, and keep this to yourself, I will be there in a moment,” Nonny commanded.
Molly disappeared back round the door, and Richard, laughing silently, put his glass down on a side table and rose.
“Where do you think you are going?” Nonny said, a hand on his chest pushing him back towards the chair.
“It wouldn’t be the first time I have helped you dispose of your less animated clients, do you still roll them down the river bank at the end of Gate Street?” Richard asked, beginning to fasten his doublet up again.
“If only it were so simple! They built a landing stage there for the wherries so it’s not easy to get close to the river,” Nonny said, her hands on hips, and a frown forming between her thin arched eyebrows.
“So how to do you make them disappear?” Richard asked, his doublet fastened, he retrieved the glass and emptied it.
“It is better for everyone if they are found, otherwise there are too many questions. Master Hetherington lived on his own, he’ll be discovered in his bed in the morning,” Nonny said, making her way towards the door. Richard followed.
†
They found Master Hetherington where he had expired, tied to a wooden bed frame with a pleased smiled on his face that had yet to melt from his features. It appeared he had died a happy man. The architect of his demise was still in the room. Maud, hastily dressed in slack clothing, was seated on a window ledge, a sulky expression on her face.
“Well?” Nonny said, turning on the girl.
“Wasn’t my fault his heart gave out, was it?” The girl replied mutinously.
“Saints preserve us! Master Hetherington is, rather was, seventy four years old, was there any reason to tie him to a bed and fuck the last of the life from him?” Nonny demanded, her voice filled with exasperation.
“He said he wanted me to,” the girl responded.
“I know what you are like! Asked him for an extra penny did you? Told him it would be the best night of his life?” Nonny’s voice no longer had any trace of pleasantness. “Get him dressed!”
“Who? Me?” The girl exclaimed.
“Yes, you,” Nonny replied. The unfortunate man’s clothing lay on the floor and Nonny scooped up his doublet and shook it. “Where’s his purse?”
Maud looked at Nonny, her expression blank.
“Give it to me?” Nonny demanded, her hand out outstretched.
“I don’t know what you mean?” The girl tried, folding her arms defensively across her chest.
“You heard Madam, where’s his purse?” Nathaniel growled, moving to stand next to his mistress.
“I’ve not got it,” The girl tried again taking a tentative step backward.
“Maud, if you’ve not got it then you are a poorer thief than I thought you were,” Nonny said thrusting her open hand closer to the woman’s face.
Maud looked between Nathaniel and Nonny, realised that this was not going to go her way, and cursing, retrieved a cord from around her neck at the end of which was tied Master Hetherington’s purse.
Nonny smiled. “Very wise. Now get him dressed. Come on, get to it, I don’t want him going rigid like that, if he does then we’ll have no hope of getting him down the stairs,” Nonny announced pointing to where the late Master Hetherington resided, spread-eagle on the bed.
Richard tried hard not to laugh, and almost managed.
Nonny turned towards him, her eye’s sparkling, and said, “You see, you are not the only one who has problems, and at least yours are not as final as Master Hetherington’s.”
The absurdity of the evening, the familiarity of the Angel and the attentions of a woman whose name he could not remember in the morning delivered the first good night’s sleep he had enjoyed since he had learned of Mary’s death. Richard awoke early, and was surprised to find that he was not in the least annoyed by the prospect of another day of waiting at the court and resolved to return to the Angel again that night.
†
Arriving early for a second day, Richard returned to the window seat. As the room began to fill up those around him kept a discreet distance, there would be few, if any at all, who did not know that he was currently out of favour. One man broke from the ring, and stepped into the void that surrounded him. Immaculately dressed in dark saturnine velvet, he seated himself opposite Richard, his legs outstretched, polished boots crossed at the ankles. Emilio smiled at him with delight.
“No doubt you have heard?” Richard said conversationally.
“Of course, let me be the first to congratulate you,” Emilio replied, still smiling.
“I am surprised you are so pleased about it? Surely such an arrangement is contrary to the will of the Grand Master,” Richard replied, watching the Italian closely.
Emilio took in a long breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. “Sometimes, Fitzwarren, you really can be a fool.”
“I am sure I am,” Richard replied warily.
“Where was it to be? The Indies? Africa? Or have I overestimated you? Was it to be just simple piracy? Shame you will have little use for the Santa Luciana now,” Emilio replied, twisting a ring on his right hand absently, the warm smile still on his face
“Jerome told you, I assume?” Richard said, leaning his back against the stone window surround and folding his arms across his chest.
Emilio shook his head. “No, Jerome would tell me nothing, it was just a guess. So which one was it?”
“The Indies, if you must know,” Richard replied.
“It would have been a good choice. Would Jack have gone with you?” Emilio asked, his dark eyes watching Richard closely.
“It took little persuasion,” Richard lied smoothly, remembering the night Jack had examined Jerome’s badly-scaled charts.
“Thwarted at every turn, it must be starting to feel a little tiresome?” Emilio now had a delighted smile on his face.
“I’ve satisfied your curiosity, so will you satisfy mine?” Richard said, aware that they were now the subject of the gazes of a number of onlookers in the room.
Emilio shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Jerome – why do you hate him?” Richard smiled, as Emilio’s face darkened at the mention of the name. “Come on, Emilio, I can’t let this encounter go all your way. What did he do?”
“I’m surprised you’ve not found out already. Is it not usual when recruiting to know the history of those you are likely to have to rely upon?” Emilio said, his voice now cold.
“Perhaps I just wanted to hear if from you, at least I would know it would be the truth,” Richard said.
Emilio dropped his eyes to his ringed fingers for a moment, seemingly considering whether he would answer.
“There is a warrant for his arrest and execution, signed by the Grand Master. You might need to find a new captain very soon,” Emilio said coolly. “Jerome Sinclair was captain of the Santa Fillipo. The ship ran into three Barbary Corsairs off the coast north of Tripoli. Rather than fight he surrendered, trading the ship along with all the men upon her for his own sorry life.”
“And you have whose word for this?” Richard asked.
“Among the crew was Edward Fitzwarren. He escaped along with two other knights and they made their way eventually back to Malta,” Emilio replied, his tone matter of fact.
“Ah, the hallowed Edward, it must irk you that I am part of the same family?” Richard replied, one corner of his mouth twisting into a humourless smile.
“Not particularly, my family are the members of the Order,” Emilio replied, and then changing the subject said. “I must not keep your Queen waiting any longer. I need to reassure her that your recent actions were no more than those of a man who finds his loyalty tied to the Catholic Church.”
Emilio rose smoothly and the ring of onlookers melted away from him like a parting tide as he walked purposefully across the room. Richard, watching him go, could hear Nonny’s voice in his head – it was all just a matter of ordering the cards. Emilio might not have realised it but he had handed Richard what he needed – a problem.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
London – December 17TH 1558
†
Richard was still absent. He’d sent a short note stating that his presence was currently required at Court. Jack, who had recently taken ownership of a new horse that had come his way via one of Devereux’s deals was not particularly bothered.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
Jack recognised the voice on the other side of the horse, and smiling, ducked underneath the animal’s neck. “You’ve found me.”
“I should have thought to look in the filth of the stables first! Have you been sleeping here?” Emilio enquired, eyeing Jack with mild distaste.
Jack was wearing a linen shirt, the sleeves rolled back and the neck open. It might have been white earlier on that day, but after a morning in the stables it was grimed with sweat and dirt.
“So this is what has been claiming your attention?” Emilio’s eyes were now on the horse as he walked slowly around it.
Jack ignored the comment, saying instead. “What do you think?”
Emilio continued his inspection of the animal, a growing look of appreciation on his face. “I think it was your brother who once said that you could not resist a fine horse, and he is as fine as the one Courtenay had imported from England.”
“Don’t remind me about that!” Jack said running a hand along the horse’s neck. “He’s not as flighty as the beast Courtenay had, I daresay he could have a pack of hounds yapping around his legs and he would stay his ground.”
“What did you pay for him?” Emilio asked, his ringed hand running down the horses flank.
“I’ve not parted with money yet, the price is thirty pounds,” Jack replied.
“That is a good price,” Emilio replied. “And who was fool enough to part with him?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. He came into Myles Devereux’s possession as settlement for a debt, and I’ve no doubt Devereux is profiting twice, once from the settlement of the debt and secondly from the sale of the horse. Thirty pounds is a lot.”
Emilio shrugged. “If you want a horse like this then the price does not matter,” Emilio frowned, his hand smoothing the soft skin around the horse’s mouth. “This is not the bit he’s been used to.”
“I know. There wasn’t so much as a lead rope with him, I’m guessing everything was stamped with the mark of the previous owner, and he’d not want the world knowing he’d been forced to sell his horse to the likes of Devereux,” Jack explained, coming to stand next to Emilio.
Emilio hooked a finger behind the horse’s bit. Jack moved his head closer to Emilio’s. “I was just trying that see what it was like. It’s the only one I could find that was a close enough fit.”
The snaffle bit, although perfectly functional, was made of plain bronze, with unadorned rings on either side of the bit for the leather to attach to. “I am sure you can afford now to get better made for him.
“I can, and I will,” Jack replied, patting the horse’s neck.
“So, is this where you will spend your life now? In the stables, some would say you have come full circle,” Emilio asked, grinning.
From anyone else Jack would have taken that as an insult, but not from Emilio. “Ah, the difference is that these are my stables, with my horses, and when I tire of them there is a warm bed with a fire and good food to eat.”
“A very wise man did say that life is very simple and yet we often insist on making it complicated,” Emilio replied thoughtfully.
“I agree,” Jack, his brow furrowed, suddenly asked, “Why were you looking for me?”
“Do I need a reason?” Emilio replied.
“Not usually,” Jack laughed, then added. “But there is a look about you today that tells me you are not here to talk about my new horse.”
“I’m not, Jack, I wanted to tell you …”
A shout from the house cut Emilio off.
“Jack! Where are you?” It was Lizbet’s voice.
“Over here, lass,” Jack called to her, stepping around the horse so she could see him.
“What a state you’re in! Good Lord, what are people going to think if they see you like that?” she laughed as she crossed the yard towards him.
“Have you ever known me look any different?” Jack asked.
“No, I don’t suppose I have,” Lizbet replied, “but now you’ve no need to.”
“Well, don’t think you can change me into something I’m not,” Jack warned.
“I wouldn’t dare try. Are you coming in for dinner?” Lizbet asked.
“I’d no idea it was that late, of course I am,” Jack turned to Emilio, “Would you like to join us?”
