Marbeck and the Privateers (26 page)

‘You've been working for Cecil, all along,' he said.

Tye gave a shrug. ‘You know how things are.'

‘Indeed I do …' Marbeck raised his cup and drained it in one. ‘Yet His Lordship seldom fails to trip me. I've been the mark, have I? Were you the setter?'

Tye gave a half-smile; the tricks of gaming-house gangs were familiar to both of them. ‘I was merely the verser,' he replied. ‘Cecil set up the game.'

‘Of course he did.' Marbeck's anger rose, but he managed to subdue it; when all was said and done, this man wasn't the cause of his ills. And suddenly, Tye was on his feet.

‘The details you've uncovered are vital,' he said. ‘We weren't sure where Quiney is, now we know he's at sea. No matter – he can wait. We've had him watched …'

‘For how long?' Marbeck broke in, frowning.

‘Since the spring, when Cecil began to suspect him.'

‘Suspect him of what? Running contraband?'

‘Oh no, nothing so trivial as that.' Tye's mouth flattened into a thin line. ‘And you may hear some of it now, Marbeck, for you and I might be about to work together … if you've no objection?'

It was becoming a lot to take in. Matching the other's expression, Marbeck said: ‘I'd like a few answers first – if
you've
no objection?'

The other raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue.

‘Monk …' Marbeck spoke the name with some distaste. ‘What's his position, or should I ask who has control, you or he?'

Tye hesitated. ‘Let's say he's been eased aside for the present … given less challenging duties.'

‘Whereas, you …'

‘As you surmised, I take orders from my Lord Secretary.'

‘To what end?'

‘To the end of ensuring that nothing inhibits the success of the talks at Somerset House. Which, thanks partly to you, nothing will. They are now, in his lordship's words, “entered into the bowels of the treaty”. They even have a name for it: the Treaty of London. It brings peace after eighteen years of war: a triumph for our King, and for the Privy Council …'

‘The sabotage,' Marbeck broke in curtly. ‘The false accusation against de Tassis, the shot at Somerset House, the needle device …'

‘Mostly my work,' Tye replied. ‘A balance had to be struck between making the attempts look real, and allowing the talks to proceed. Cecil's diplomacy saw to the rest …' A frown appeared. ‘But the shot fired at the ambassador – that wasn't me. I wouldn't have missed.'

Marbeck blinked. ‘Someone else was trying—'

‘To stir things up – of course. And with what you've told me, we know who it was. A man who served a different master entirely … not because he wished to, but because he was given no choice. The same one who tried to kill you too – because he had no choice.'

Thomas Oxenham. Marbeck lowered his gaze and sighed.

Tye shrugged. ‘Who else could have missed the ambassador at that range, and hit a servant instead? The poor fool was never meant for this sort of work – and it was bad judgement on Monk's part to take the man into his service as soon as he appeared. As you may imagine, Lord Cecil is displeased.'

But Marbeck barely listened. In his mind's eye he saw Oxenham, blooded and dying on the table in Thomas Woollard's house in Melcombe, spilling his terrible tale with his last breath. The man had failed in one task, then followed Marbeck all the way to Dorset only to fail again. The
djinn
, as told to him by Fahz the three-fingered, had turned out to be one of promise only, with little substance.

‘So … at the same time as you feigned to be attempting to wreck the talks, others were doing the same in earnest,' he said after a moment. ‘Those of our enemies who wish the war to continue … Las Langostas
–
and allied to them, partners in savagery, are the Sea Locusts.'

But hearing his words, Tye grew uneasy. ‘That's a matter beyond me. We must leave it to Cecil, and the Lord Admiral. Your business, and mine, lies closer to home.'

All at once, however, Marbeck was greedy for answers. ‘What of Richard Gurran?' he said. ‘The carpenter of the
Amity
?'

‘Poisoned, after he'd done what he was paid to do,' Tye replied. ‘I knew him of old … but it was too great a risk, leaving a witness. And he was an evil cove, like all the crew of that benighted vessel. Though like you, he must have had an iron constitution: he should have died at sea, not lived long enough to be taken ashore at his home port.'

In silence Marbeck took in the news, recalling the man's body being lifted on to the quay at Weymouth. Tye watched him, then said: ‘You were right about most things. Cecil knows you too well … he knew you'd be unable to resist the trail, once it was laid out for you. As he made it uncomfortable enough at Salisbury House for you to be eager to leave.'

‘After I'd got a good look at Simon Jewkes. And had my curiosity teased, as a cutpurse teases his victim.'

‘Indeed …' Tye put on a smile. ‘If it's any consolation I've a purse here for you, to cover expenses. Thirty crowns …'

‘Blood money?'

Tye shrugged again, his smile fading. But despite all that had happened, Marbeck couldn't find it in himself to be angry with him. Had things gone another way, back in that dingy chamber at the Black Horse, he might have wounded or even killed the man. Then, so much seemed to have been left to chance in this whole affair, he was almost dumbstruck by it.

‘My Lord Secretary has played a very dangerous game indeed,' he said finally.

‘He believed he had to,' Tye said.

They were both silent for a while, until Marbeck asked again about Simon Jewkes. And this time, the other grew animated.

‘Now we come to the nub of it. Those who watched Quiney's movements had a hard task, for the man never left his home county, hadn't done so in years. Hence we were at pains to find out who did the spadework in London … the one who dirtied his hands on Sir Edward's behalf. And the man flitted between here and Dorset so often, it had to be Jewkes – as you too surmised.'

‘In which case,' Marbeck said with a frown, ‘why didn't you simply pick him up and put him to the question? He would have named Quiney as his master.'

But when Tye hesitated again, a new thought sprang up. ‘You mean – Quiney wasn't the driving force?'

Tye didn't answer – but already, his words had served to put the last fragment in place.

‘The desire wasn't to spoil the treaty, but to delay it,' Marbeck said, piecing it together as he spoke. ‘The scheme was hatched by someone who wanted war with Spain to continue, because the profits were too great. Someone at a high level, who still had vessels out at sea, and wanted to reap the rewards in secret while he could … and who asked Quiney to arrange it. Someone who knew the man, and what he would stoop to …'

He paused, both shocked and fascinated by the brazen act of betrayal. Tye was looking uncomfortable, but Marbeck was in no mood to mince words. ‘I mean one who had to remain untouched,' he persisted, his temper rising. Suddenly, he found himself on his feet. ‘Because this man sits on the very body that negotiates with the Spanish … a man like the Lord Admiral himself—'

‘Enough!' Tye raised a hand sharply. ‘I haven't said a name, and nor must you. It's a matter for our masters.'

Marbeck stared at him, his mind in a whirl. He had been used, been sent to within an inch of his life, merely to confirm Cecil's suspicions: that the real culprit was on the Privy Council itself … He looked away, struggling with his anger.

‘I believe his lordship will speak to you, about such aspects of the matter,' Tye said after a moment. He spoke without rancour, as if he understood Marbeck's feelings. ‘You can back away if you wish, for your part is done now – aside from one thing. I said you and I might work together, for I had a notion you might like to be part of what I intend to do – this very night.'

He waited, but Marbeck shook his head. ‘I'm done with guessing.'

The other eyed him. ‘Isn't it obvious? I mean to arrest Simon Jewkes.'

And when Marbeck merely stared, he added: ‘I know where he is – in fact just now, I'm the only one who does. The poor man still thinks I work for him, and I have a desire to see his face when I tell him otherwise – don't you?'

I
t was on the Thames, of course, but not in London. Whether word of Quiney's flight from his manor at Abbotsbury had reached Simon Jewkes, or whether other intelligence had, the man was too clever not to know that a net was closing about him. According to Tye, he had taken the long ferry to Gravesend and was waiting for a ship to get him out of England. But since none were leaving for several days, there was time to act.

‘And if I know the man,' Tye said, ‘he'll be at the end of his tether, fearing the worst – which we're about to deliver.'

It was evening, many hours after their conversation in the private room in the Tower. The distance to Gravesend was twenty miles along the Dover road, but since midday they had already covered most of it. They rode hard: Marbeck on Cobb, Tye on a swift jennet. Jewkes would be watching all boats, he said, so their best weapon was surprise. Whether or not he had men with him Tye was uncertain, but he was confident the two of them could deal with him. Jewkes would admit no one but Tye; Marbeck would be his unwelcome guest.

The town was busy, then Gravesend always was. Ships rode at anchor in the broad estuary, while longboats plied between them and the shore. Close to the beach the round fortress rose, with the old church on the hill above. Lights showed and the inns were busy, as the two intelligencers walked their mounts through the streets to a row of cottages on the southern edge of the town. As they reined in, Marbeck turned to his companion.

‘Is he still Master Goodenough, or is he Combes? That was his name in Dorchester, before his friends took me off for a walk.'

‘I don't know,' Tye replied. ‘But if he's at home, he'll admit me.'

They dismounted, stretching their limbs, and drank from their leather flasks. Then Tye pointed to a house, and without further word they walked towards it. Marbeck loosened his sword, but Tye put out a warning hand; people were looking curiously at them. A passer-by approached, sensed trouble and hurried past.

Tye went to the door and knocked, while Marbeck stood back. It opened and he stepped inside, only to emerge within seconds, his face taut. ‘He's not there. Gone down to the harbour … he goes several times day, his landlord says.' He muttered an oath. ‘If we both go, he'll recognize you.'

‘But he thinks I'm dead,' Marbeck said. ‘At least, I hope he does.'

‘True …' Tye considered. ‘Perhaps we can use that?'

Taking up the reins, they led the horses away. Twilight was drawing in as they made their way back through the town and down to the waterside. They found a drinking trough and watered the mounts, while scanning the shore carefully. Boats were tied up, people of all ages about. A tilt-boat from London was moored for the night, her stern-lantern burning. For Marbeck, weeks flew back to when he had searched Dorchester's guildhall, before finding his quarry standing in the street …

‘By God, I see him,' he breathed.

Tye stiffened, following his gaze, then showed his relief. Together they observed the man, familiar to both: round-shouldered, his slim form padded out with an expensive-looking doublet, a cloak over one shoulder. He was standing apart from passers-by – and he was alone.

‘Can it be this easy?' Marbeck murmured.

‘Why should it not?' Tye said. ‘He's all but unknown here. He may be fretting, but for the present he thinks he's safe. I'll go down – follow when you see me place an arm about him.'

Marbeck watched Tye walk off, sauntering as if taking the evening air. He moved leisurely between booths and barrows, making for the shoreline. Here and there seamen and boatmen stood, talking and smoking. Finally he came up swiftly behind the figure of Simon
Jewkes, and stopped as if greeting a friend. Marbeck couldn't hear what was said, but he saw the man jerk round as if struck. He waited until Tye drew the man away – then his arm came up to rest on Jewkes's shoulder; whereupon at once Marbeck left the horses and strode forward.

He reached the shore, where dogs ran about. Tye and Jewkes were moving off together, towards the jetty where the London tilt-boat was moored. Soon they were stepping on to the boards – and Marbeck understood. With a sense of triumph, he gained the jetty and hurried along it. Hearing his approach, Jewkes span round … and gaped.

‘Did I mention that I'd brought a companion?' Tye said.

Jewkes went rigid, his hands working nervously. He glanced round, looked into Tye's face … and gulped. And he realized something else: that Tye and Marbeck were blocking his exit from the jetty.

‘I … I cannot swim!'

For a moment Marbeck though Tye would laugh aloud; then he thought he would instead. But with an effort, hand on sword, he threw his fellow-intelligencer a glance and said: ‘That could be unfortunate, could it not?'

‘Indeed so …' Tye's grip on the man's shoulder tightened. ‘I wouldn't want you to slip and fall off,' he said quietly. ‘That's what used to happen to some of your victims on the London quays, as I recall.'

‘I recall that too,' Marbeck said. ‘As I recall being marched out of Dorchester into a wood, to be slaughtered and buried … only as you see, matters took a different turn.'

Jewkes was breathing fast. For a moment he looked as if he might call out, or even make a run for it. But when Tye put his free hand to his belt, he flinched.

‘That's right,' Tye said, patting the hilt of his poniard. ‘I should follow orders and take you to London for questioning – but if I have to, I'll finish you here.'