The Traitor’s Mark (38 page)

‘A new chapter?'

‘Yes.' '

‘They are very much in love,' she said wistfully. ‘I asked her how that could be.'

‘I don't see what you mean.'

Adie stared down into the water. ‘Well, letting lots of men do things to her that she didn't want. How could she ever find pleasure in those things with Bart?'

‘Only she can answer that but I suppose ... Well, have you heard men speak of the philosophers' stone?'

‘No, what is it?'

‘'Tis something that can change any other metal – copper, lead, iron, or anything else – into gold.'

She looked up with wide eyes.

‘I'd like some of that.'

I laughed. ‘Oh, 'tis only a legend – at least, I hope so. If anyone ever found this amazing mineral, I would be out of business. Would you buy gold if you could make your own? Well, I sometimes think that perhaps love is a kind of philosophers' stone. It can transform bad experience into something beautiful and precious.'

She looked down again into the swirling water and sighed deeply. ‘I think love must be just as rare as this miraculous stone.'

‘Perhaps it is not as good an example as I thought. People do find it – people like Lizzie.'

There was a long silence and I wondered whether I should mention what was in my mind. At last I said, ‘Ignatius told me about your mother and father. It was a wretched thing to happen to you – and you little more than a child.'

She made no answer.

‘But 'tis an old chapter. Let it float away on the stream.' I took hold of her shoulders and gently turned her round. ‘Turn your back on tragedy. Just as Lizzie turned her back on the whorehouse and Ned turned his back on the monastery and I turned my back on wedded life.'

‘Have you found your philosophers' stone?' she asked.

‘No, but the important thing is that I believe in it. So I go on looking.'

She smiled at me. ‘Then I hope you find it, Master Treviot.'

‘And I hope you find it, Mistress Imray.'

We both laughed.

That was the moment a servant came running across the lawn. ‘Master Thomas, Master Thomas, there's a messenger come from the archbishop! He says 'tis urgent!'

Chapter 30

The expected summons was brief and to the point. I was to present myself as early as possible at the ferry stage at Gravesend on Thursday 28 October, two days hence, with whatever hand weapons I could muster. There I would place myself under the authority of the captain of the archiepiscopal guard.

It would be an exaggeration to record that the message filled me with foreboding. But I certainly had a strong sense of dread. The policy that Cranmer and his friends had adopted was, in my opinion, dangerously faulty. I did not believe for a moment that Black Harry could be trusted. And I did not Want to be personally involved in any kind of military confrontation. Warfare was for the sons of noblemen and gentlemen, who seriously believed
that there was honour in it, and for poor wretches unable to avoid being forcibly drafted into an army. The injunction to arm myself was alarming. It was one thing to be inveigled into this expedition because of my ‘close dealings' with Walden. To be expected to fight was quite another.

I took a bunch of keys from my chamber coffer and went to the room at the top of the house where we stored damaged furniture and other items that were temporarily out of use but which we did not want to throw away. In a corner stood an old chest that had lain undisturbed since my father's day. I unlocked it and the scent of lavender assailed my nostrils as I lifted the lid. I rummaged among old clothes, fragments of tapestry, bent candlesticks and broken rushlight holders. What I sought lay at the bottom wrapped in cloth.

I carried it back to my chamber and removed the coverings. The rapier, I saw, was in good condition. The blade bore no hint of rust and gleamed in the light from the window. I had acquired it some ten years before from a customer who was having difficulty paying a debt. I was then a young man indulging glamorous dreams of military prowess and hoping to impress girls with my skill in fencing. My father was furious at such foolish extravagance. Honest merchants had better things to do, he scolded, than ape their betters by swaggering around with swords. As I looked at it now I realised I had forgotten what a fine piece of workmanship it was. The blade was Toledo steel and the foundry
mark showed up clearly. The hilt had been fitted by one of the best London armourers in Coleman Street. I weighed it in my hand. The balance was perfect. But the thought of using it in anger was abhorrent.

The concern was shared by other members of the household. When I was observed harnessing the rapier to my belt, questions were asked. Questions. I could not answer. Bart said if I was going to a fight he wanted to come, too. Walt and one or two others asked if I wanted their support. I turned down such offers. It was bad enough that I had to set out on this foolhardy venture. There was no reason to involve anyone else. Yet, much as I made light of it, there was no ignoring the real anxiety that permeated Hemmings.

On Thursday I was up before dawn. When I went into the stable yard Walt was already brushing down Golding, my grey horse.

‘Are you sure you want no company, Master Thomas?' he asked, as he fitted the bit into the gelding's mouth.

‘Quite sure, thank you. Please assure everyone that there's no need for alarm. I expect to be back tomorrow, or Saturday at the latest.'

‘God go with you,' he called as I rode out of the gate.

I muttered an‘Amen' under my breath.

I was at Gravesend in less than a couple of hours. An extraordinary scene met me at the quayside. It was as though the contingent of a royal army were preparing to embark for a foreign war. There were horses and men
everywhere. Some were already crossing the estuary on the ferry boats and other craft that had been commandeered. I threaded my way through the throng and eventually found Morice in conversation with the guard captain.

He turned to greet me. ‘Ah, there you are, Thomas. Good.'

‘This is an enormous turnout,' I said. ‘How many men have you got here?'

‘We want to be absolutely sure of our man,' he replied. ‘You, yourself, impressed upon us how slippery Black Harry is.'

‘Where exactly are we going?'

‘“Exactly”? I'm not sure. Our guide is keeping the details very much to himself.'

‘I can't help repeating myself,' I said, lowering my voice. ‘This is madness. You're seriously letting this knave lead all these men on a wild horse chase? All he's interested in is giving you the slip.'

‘He won't do that. He's in that wagon over there, securely bound and well guarded.'

‘Even so, I like it not. Have you no idea where we're bound?'

‘His story is that Brooke has a small ship on an inlet further along the coast.'

‘Supposing that to be true, why hasn't he gone already?'

‘Apparently, his craft can only get away on a high tide. Black Harry called for an almanac and calculated that this
afternoon will be the first opportunity for Brooke to escape the country.'

‘This stretch of coast is shredded with channels, is it not?'

‘Yes, but few are navigable by larger vessels and the sands are treacherous. That limits his choice. If he did manage to slip away we have a galleass patrolling further offshore to give chase.'

‘Since you've made such elaborate preparations, I can't see why you need me.'

‘Black Harry says he'll only give directions to you.'

‘Black Harry! Black Harry! Black Harry! Who's in charge of this expedition?'

Morice frowned. ‘Thomas, you've made your feelings clear. What you have to remember is how much is hanging on the success of today's events. If we capture Brooke ... well, I don't need to tell you again what that would mean. Our friends at court have persuaded his grace that no opportunity should be lost, however slight. That's why we've mobilised this large force. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get the wagon loaded.'

By the time everyone had been transported to the Essex bank the morning was far spent. When we set off inland, Morice instructed me to ride behind the wagon. Black Harry obviously regarded my presence as a petty triumph. As I took up my position, he leered at me and nodded. I did my best to ignore him.

When we reached a crossroads the prisoner stood abruptly and called out, ‘Stop.' He made a great show of looking all around. Then he called out, ‘Master Treviot, if you please.'

I drew alongside the wagon.

He smirked. ‘How pleasant to be together again, Master Treviot. Do you not admire my retinue?'

‘Just give us the directions,' I muttered.

‘Directions? Well, let me see. I think we'll go ... right.'

This play-acting was repeated every time we came to a junction or fork in the road. Black Harry gave the impression that he was making up the route as he went along. I became increasingly convinced he was deliberately leading us nowhere, just for the perverted pleasure of wasting our time and causing us maximum discomfort. A chill wind was blowing in off the German Sea across the marsh and we were all huddling into our cloaks as much as we could. As we meandered, apparently aimlessly, across the barren landscape the troops became increasingly restive. After a couple of hours my patience snapped. I spurred my horse, rode to the head of column and drew level with Morice and the guard captain.

‘This is utterly futile,' I said. ‘Can't you see what he's doing? He intends to keep us on the move until 'tis dark and we are miles from anywhere.'

The captain agreed. ‘We don't have provisions for an overnight camp. If we don't get to wherever it is we're
supposed to be going in the next half-hour or so, we'll have to turn back. This fellow's simply making fools of us – or perhaps he's hoping to escape somehow under cover of darkness.'

Morice scowled, and I could well imagine the question that was going through his mind: how was he going to explain this fiasco when he returned to Croydon? ‘I'm afraid you're right,' he said. ‘Turn the column round, Captain, and we'll retrace our steps as fast as we can.'

The captain called halt and rode back past the ranks of his men.

When Black Harry realised what was happening he called out, ‘Stop! What are you doing?'

‘We've had enough of your game, Master Walden,' Morice replied. ‘We're heading for home and, by the saints, I'd make you walk, if that wouldn't hold us up.'

‘You can't do that now,' Black Harry cried. ‘We're nearly there.'

‘Save your breath,' I called out. ‘We've had enough of your lies.'

‘No! No!' the prisoner shouted. ‘I'm telling the truth! See those trees up ahead? Just beyond, the road slopes down to the creek where Brooke's ship lies.' For the first time, he seemed genuinely agitated. The braggadocio had gone. He was almost pleading.

I found this sudden change more worrying than his former arrogance. What was he planning now? I wondered.

Morice, however, was still eager to be convinced. He stopped by the wagon. ‘The other side of that copse, you say?'

‘Yes, that's right. You'll see.'

‘Very well, we'll ride as far as the trees – and no further.'

As- Morice trotted after the captain to have his order countermanded, I caught him up. ‘Just a moment, I don't like this,' I said. ‘I know this fellow. He's up to something.'

‘Well, we'll soon see. Three or four minutes and we'll look for this ship of his.'

‘Might it not be better,' I suggested, ‘to send a couple of scouts ahead to look for Brooke's vessel?'

‘I don't want to keep everyone standing still in this wind. Another quarter of a mile and we can shelter among the trees, rest the horses and then start back.'

I had to admit there was a certain amount of sense in that. The clump of leaning, wind-blown oaks was the only visible cover to be seen. It would be good to dismount for a few minutes and stretch our limbs. When we turned round we would, at least, have the wind at our backs.

Morice told the captain what he had decided and the captain passed on to his men the. welcome news that they could have a short break.

While the column reorganised itself, I scrutinised the figure in the wagon. He was standing and closely watching what was going on. Was he calculating something? Perhaps he was concocting yet another story to keep us on the move
and to maintain the illusion that it was he who was in command.

I edged Golding up to the side of the wagon. I looked at the prisoner and satisfied myself that his bonds were tight. ‘Keep a close watch on this fellow,' I said to his guards. ‘Whatever he says to you, don't believe him. Better still, make sure he keeps his mouth shut.'

The wagon jolted as we resumed our march.

The clump of trees lay to the left of the road and was obviously thicker than it looked at a distance. It was circular in shape and the ground within rose up to form a large mound. It was obviously a prominent and ancient landmark. In time past, I guessed, it had been a sacred grove where our pagan ancestors had once worshipped their fearsome deities. Please God, no such malign spirits still haunted this windswept terrain.

We turned aside from the road and the order was given to dismount. The men stretched and stamped or sprawled on the ground, while their horses thankfully cropped the sparse grass. I did not immediately join my resting companions. I was anxious to test Black Harry's assertion that we were near journey's end. I rode on and emerged from the trees. After a few more paces the ground began to slope away before me. I found myself looking down on a wide creek. In the middle of it was a narrow eyot. Moored in its lee was a sleek, two-masted ship.

So the villain was telling the truth, I thought to myself.

No sooner had I thought it than I was aware of shouts and screams behind me. I turned Golding's head and cantered back along the track. The copse was now alive with struggling men and the sound of clashing steel. Instantly, Black Harry's plan became obvious. He had led us into an ambush.