Execution

by S. J. Parris

  ‘That is assurance enough for me,’ I said. Ballard held up a sudden hand to silence me; the sound of several pairs of feet drummed on the stairs outside and a child’s voice called out, ‘Supper, my masters!’

  The serving boys crashed in with their dishes: a steaming pot of mutton stew; a bowl of some root vegetable boiled beyond recognition; loaves of dense bread. Standard fare for a London inn, heavy and bland, but I had tasted worse, and I was hungry. Babington and Titch followed and settled to their places, subdued and silent, a mute glance slipping between them; I wished I could have found a way to follow them outside and catch whatever words had been exchanged. When more wine had been poured and the children dismissed, Ballard leaned back in his chair and speared a lump of meat on the end of his knife.

  ‘Gentlemen, we should set this sad business aside for now while we wait for Gilbert and Robin to return with more news, and let us hear about the letters from Queen Mary.’ He looked expectantly at Babington, who forced himself with some effort to sit upright and raise his eyes from his plate.

  ‘Titch and I worked on the cipher all afternoon,’ he said. ‘It was not easy. Sometimes Her Majesty skips a character in the coded alphabet, I suppose in her haste, and you have to go back to work out where she missed it, because then all those that follow are also wrong, and I spent a good half hour at least misconstruing a sentence that—’

  ‘To the point, Anthony.’

  ‘Very well. She commends our plan.’

  ‘To the letter?’

  ‘Not in so many words. She offers advice as to the number of armed men we should bring when we ride north to her – fifty or three-score, she says, to be assured of overpowering her guards, and she suggests how we might broach her prison.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  Babington smiled. ‘She says we should set fire to the stables at night, so that her keeper and his household will run out to deal with the commotion while we come for her unnoticed. She reminds me to make sure all our men are wearing a mark to recognise one another under cover of darkness.’

  ‘Quite the military strategist,’ Ballard murmured, amused.

  ‘We must suppose she knows better than us how many men guard her,’ Babington said, a little testy. ‘Her knowledge of a campaign is greater than that of “Captain Fortescue”, at any rate.’

  Ballard grinned. ‘The good Captain is a veteran of many manoeuvres,’ he said. ‘You’d be surprised what he knows. But do go on. Does she acknowledge our purpose towards the usurper, and give us her blessing? That’s what I told you to secure. Without her assent in writing, there is nothing to protect us once the deed is done and Mary is on the throne, if she should wish to distance herself from it. We need that proof. Do you understand?’

  Babington looked doubtful. ‘She promises reward for our efforts, and urges us to be wary of false friends. Though there is one thing I thought strange.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘She adds a postscript asking me to tell her the names of all the gentlemen involved in our design, and by what means and how we plan to proceed. She can only mean the plan for the execution of Elizabeth, so I suppose that is tantamount to endorsing it?’

  I caught a flash of something – fear? recognition? – in Ballard’s eyes as he took this in, but his face remained calm.

  ‘She has not demanded such details before,’ he mused.

  ‘No, though she has asked what towns and ports we expect to provide safe harbour for Spanish troops, and which English nobles loyal to her cause might let us use their lands to station an army. Which names we will have as soon as Thomas Salisbury returns from his travels, I hope in the next week.’

  ‘That would be most useful to my master too,’ I said, smiling.

  ‘Naturally, you will be the first to know,’ Ballard said, through a mouthful of stew. ‘You still have the letter, Anthony?’

  ‘Of course.’ Babington patted his doublet. ‘She instructs me to burn it immediately, but—’

  ‘Do no such thing,’ Ballard snapped, pointing his knife down the table. ‘If she promises us rewards, we need written evidence. What?’ He spat a piece of gristle into his hand and shook his head at the expressions of the younger men. ‘You want to believe Mary Stuart is a saint. Good for you. But women are capricious, my boys, and royal women most of all. They can become squeamish when it suits them, especially if blood must be shed to get their way. They like to sweep that under the carpet, once it’s done, pretend it never happened, and the men who obligingly risked their lives for them can become an awkward reminder.’

  Savage laughed, as he wiped sauce from his chin with the back of his hand. ‘I’d hardly call Mary Stuart squeamish. She had her second husband blown up once he’d served his purpose by giving her a son.’

  ‘My point exactly. What happened to the man who arranged it for her?’

  Savage shrugged, blank.

  ‘I’ll tell you this much. He’s not living in luxury, enjoying the land and titles she promised. Prison, house arrest, exile, living as a fugitive, another arrest and trial, prison again – that was his reward, because she preferred not to acknowledge the deed once it was done.’

  ‘But Her Majesty is not currently in a position to do this man good, so your censure is unfair,’ Babington said, ever Mary’s staunch defender. ‘Once she claims her rightful throne she may be able to recall him, whoever he is.’

  ‘His name is Archibald Douglas,’ Ballard said, ‘and he should serve as a warning to those who trust too readily in the promises of princes.’

  I had to fight to avoid any reaction to the name; I watched Ballard carefully, but he too was practised at keeping his countenance and I could not gauge from his tone whether he was acquainted with Douglas or knew him only by reputation. Even so, I saw no flicker of recognition among the rest of the group, and allowed myself to exhale with cautious relief; it appeared from their response that he was not closely involved with the conspirators – at least, not yet. What, then, was his purpose in London, where he ran the risk of arrest?

  ‘If you really think Queen Mary will wash her hands of us the moment she is crowned, I wonder you bother wasting your time with this business,’ Babington said, offended again. ‘You are welcome to leave, Captain Fortescue.’ He stood and stretched a hand towards the door. I saw Savage tense, ready to spring if he was needed.

  Ballard sat back and chuckled. ‘Peace, Anthony. Easy on the wine, it’s clouding your judgement. I mean only to protect our interests. Besides, you would not last five minutes without me. That letter is our insurance, that’s all. You had better let me keep it. I would like a closer look at this postscript you mention.’

  Babington dropped heavily into his chair, face flushed, a boy reprimanded by his tutor. He fished inside his bag and passed the paper down the table. I would have liked to ask Ballard what more he knew about Archibald Douglas but I could not think of a way to make Father Prado’s interest sound plausible.

  Before I had a chance to consider it further, the door crashed open again to reveal Gifford, sweating and flustered, his eyes flitting anxiously from Ballard to me. I prayed his acting skills were up to this. He slammed the door, breathing hard; Ballard’s glare pinned him against it.

  ‘Well?’

  Gifford shook his head. ‘At Seething Lane they say Clara Poole has not been seen for four days. They assumed she had gone to visit family, but now, with Robin’s visit, they are worried.’

  ‘Family, my arse. Those dissemblers know exactly what’s happened to her. And where the devil is Robin?’

  ‘Set off in haste to see if he can talk to the constables and find out where the body was taken.’

  ‘Damn you!’ Ballard slammed his fist against the table. ‘Did I not tell you to keep him in your sights? Asking questions will only draw attention, he must see that.’

  ‘He borrowed a horse,’ Gifford said, looking at me with pleading eyes, as if there were any way I could step in. ‘I couldn’t keep up.’

  ‘Borr
owed a—?’ Ballard looked incredulous. ‘He’s already got my old grey mare, how many does he need?’

  ‘John – you know you can trust Robin.’ Savage turned his cup of water between his fingers. ‘I’ve seen him in prison. That’s a man can lock his feelings away so deep you’d never think he had any. He won’t say an idle word. He’ll ask what needs to be asked, without arousing suspicion.’

  ‘This whole business will do nothing but arouse suspicion.’ Ballard drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. ‘Listen, then. Gilbert, sit, for God’s sake, and eat something. Let us assume the body in Southwark was Clara. What must we conclude?’

  ‘That she was found out,’ Babington said, his voice wavering again. ‘That she was tortured’ – he made a small, hiccupping noise as he worked to master his emotion – ‘and since she must have given us up, we are sitting in plain sight like fattened deer, waiting for the huntsmen.’

  ‘And yet, here we are,’ Titch said, pushing his plate away, the food barely touched.

  ‘Meaning?’ Ballard stopped his drumming, laid his palm flat and leaned in for the answer.

  ‘You said the body was found four days ago. That means, if it is her and she talked before she was killed, they’ve had our names for five days at least. And yet here we are, at liberty, taking our supper. So – either it isn’t her, or she didn’t give us up.’

  ‘Or they are waiting for a more opportune moment,’ Ballard said.

  ‘Why would they do that? If they know who we are, they could have cast a net over all of us at once, if only to have us questioned. Our lodgings are not secret. Anyone could have found out we were meeting here tonight.’

  ‘Perhaps they have been waiting for our friend to join us,’ Ballard said, nodding to me. ‘That would be an even greater prize – proof of Spain’s intent to aid a coup. They’d gladly pull his arms out of their sockets to learn whether that order came from King Philip himself.’

  ‘But Clara didn’t know he would be coming – she couldn’t have told them that.’

  ‘That means nothing – God knows, there are spies enough in Paris.’

  I gave a brief, involuntary shudder and tried not to think of the real Father Prado, locked away at Barn Elms, and how his arms might be holding up. ‘Only you, Mendoza and Paget knew I was coming,’ I said, affronted. ‘I do not like the tenor of this conversation. You assured the ambassador that your plan had no weaknesses like the last one. I did not come here to have my arms pulled out by your government, as you so graciously put it.’

  ‘Nor will you.’ Ballard set his mouth in a grim line. ‘None of us will be guests of Master Secretary Walsingham, if I can prevent it. We will see how this evening unfolds. Robin’s call at Seething Lane tonight will at least have alerted them that he is looking for his sister. If they know of our design and are holding off to see how we proceed, well then, so much the worse for them. We will wrongfoot them.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Babington said, shaking his head. ‘If you seriously think they know about us, surely our only course is to scatter before they pounce?’ He glanced at the door as if he were about to launch himself through it. I watched them, each in turn; the three younger men looked shaken and uncertain, while Savage, apparently unconcerned, served himself another helping of stew.

  ‘Perhaps that is what they want – for us to flee in fear and abandon our main intention.’

  ‘I don’t see that we have another choice, if you are right.’ Babington did not meet the priest’s eye.

  ‘What?’ Savage jerked forward. ‘You would give up everything we have worked for?’

  ‘I do not say give it up,’ Babington hissed. ‘Only that, with all this, perhaps the time is not right. We could lie low for a while – return to our homes, forget the summer Progress, gather more intelligence about what is known and what is not. They could not watch all of us in separate places. We could regroup in a few weeks, take stock of where we are.’ He raised his head, brighter, as if cheered by his own solution. ‘It would give the English Catholics time to ready their forces, we could be sure of our support, Spain’ – he nodded to me – ‘will need notice to put warships to sea. It would be to everyone’s advantage to hold the business off until summer is over and come back to it better prepared.’

  A long silence unfolded while he awaited Ballard’s approval; the candle flames wavered in a draught. Eventually Savage let out a snort of laughter. ‘If summer ever starts,’ he said, pulling his jacket around him.

  ‘God save us, you are a child, aren’t you.’ Ballard stared at Babington, unblinking. He spoke softly, and all the more menacing for it. ‘Do you honestly think they would forget us if we left town? You think Walsingham’s people can’t find their way to Derbyshire? You seriously imagine’ – he jabbed his finger on the table with each word – ‘we could slink back at summer’s end, unnoticed, and pick up where we left off? Do you? Has Prado come from Spain with a chest of money to sit kicking his heels while you scurry home to hide, because you’ve suddenly got cold feet?’ The volume was gradually rising; I saw Babington flinch.

  ‘He didn’t come here to get arrested either, as he said.’ He twitched his head towards me.

  ‘Are you really so stupid? If we lose our momentum now, we will all be arrested long before summer’s end. They will come to your lovely country house, Anthony, that your father left you, and they will search it from top to bottom, and find illegal books and relics hidden there—’

  ‘—I keep no forbidden books at home—’

  ‘—no matter, they’ll provide the books themselves, and they’ll drag you out in chains in front of your pretty wife and little daughter, and make you tell them everything.’ He exhaled slowly. ‘No – if they are holding off, it’s because it serves their purpose. Perhaps they think we will give them some greater proof they can use against us, or against the Queen.’

  ‘Then that is every reason to drop the business for now.’ Babington’s voice had risen to a squeak; his eyes kept flitting to the door.

  ‘Or else we raise the stakes.’ Ballard cracked a smile and looked around the company. ‘Come now – I know you are all card players. They expect us to fold. So we give them what they least expect.’

  ‘And what is that?’ I asked. He turned to me.

  ‘We bring it forward. None of this waiting for a royal Progress that may or may not happen, no hanging about for Spain to muster warships – with all respect, Spain can come in with reinforcements once the deed is accomplished. The only way we can save ourselves, and give our plan any chance of success, is to execute the usurper as soon as possible and get Mary to safety. In the next week, I say.’

  No one spoke. Ballard’s face urged encouragement, but the others stared at him in mute disbelief.

  It was Savage who broke the silence. ‘We can’t do this alone, John. Even supposing we could reach the Tudor, if we were to manage it, the assassin would be brought down by her soldiers on the instant, and Mary’s guard trebled.’

  A flash of anger darkened Ballard’s face.

  ‘I have never known you for a naysayer, Jack. Listen.’ A wild light kindled in his eyes. ‘We fix on a date. Two of us get on the road north two days earlier, to break Mary from her prison before the news comes from London. We take her to a safe house nearby—’

  ‘Where will we find three-score loyal armed men to ride north in under a week?’ Babington was openly sceptical now. ‘Where do you suggest we lodge them?’

  ‘It would not take so many, the woman exaggerates. A dozen would do it. Gilbert’s family estate is in Staffordshire – your father must have twelve strong men you could fit out with weapons, Gilbert? Pitchforks if it came to it. It needs only the element of surprise. Think of it – Mary at liberty, Elizabeth dead, the country would be in uproar.’ He leaned forward so far in his enthusiasm I thought he might climb on the table. ‘Meanwhile Prado here will send word to Mendoza, who sends word to King Philip, who readies his warships to support us. As the news spreads, the old
Catholic families will raise private armies to escort the rightful Queen to London, and people all along the way, those who have prayed for the return of the true Church, will join them with makeshift arms, once they hear the Pretender is dead, and a great glorious army of the righteous will march on Parliament.’ He ended on a note of triumph that demanded applause, but none came. I watched him, revising my opinion. When Poole had said Ballard was ruthless, I had pictured a calculating sort of man, one untroubled by finer feeling, who would proceed by reason and single-mindedness, weigh up the odds, unpick my every utterance in search of inconsistencies and see through me at a glance if I made one slip, while Babington was the impetuous, idealistic youth with delusions of redressing the world’s wrongs. But I had seen the look on Ballard’s face before, and knew it for pure fanaticism; his belief in the cause had warped into obsession, and his ruthlessness was the kind that would drag his comrades to the gallows rather than listen to reason.

  Babington cleared his throat. ‘Jack is right about one thing,’ he said, when it became clear that no one knew how to respond. ‘The Tudor is so tightly guarded in London, it would be almost impossible to get close enough. She doesn’t even walk to chapel on Sundays to show herself to the public like she used to – her councillors have her behind her palace walls at all times. If we won’t wait for a summer Progress, I don’t see how we get near her.’

  ‘With a good musket I could do it from twenty feet away.’ Savage made a gun of his fingers and mimed taking aim.

  ‘You won’t come within twenty feet of her, especially not with a musket. You’d be taken down before you had it loaded.’

  ‘I am prepared for that,’ he said, solemnly. ‘We would none of us be here if we weren’t prepared to sacrifice ourselves.’

  ‘You are more use to us and to God alive, Jack,’ Ballard said, laying a hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Besides, Anthony is talking sense for once. It’s impossible for any of us to do the deed. We need someone who can get close to her without suspicion.’