by Paul Walker
Walsingham and Askham nod their agreement, while Mylles murmurs something which I take to be a form of endorsement. I cannot read the expression on Mistress Goodrich’s face.
‘We should have two such boxes,’ says Mylles.
‘Yes, Master Chap already works on the second. It will be ready in two days.’
‘Do you have the first for our examination?’
‘Yes, John, it is here.’ I lift a leather bag from the floor and take out the box. It is no more than a hand in each of its measures and has no decoration. The work on the wood is fine and the mechanisms have a pleasing exactness. I hand it to John, who examines it briefly then passes it to Mylles. He inspects it carefully, opens it, tests the lock and holds it up to the light to catch a sight of the hidden drawer. He plays with it, presses here and there until the drawer slides open. He closes it with a satisfying click. It goes from Walsingham, Askham and, finally, to Mistress Goodrich before it is returned.
‘It is well done, William,’ says Walsingham. ‘I warm to the scheme and the box has settled my resolve on it. Yet, care must be taken in the detail. The next day I will be at Greenwich with the Captain. I would have the rest of you convene here while we are away. William, you will consult with Master Mylles and Mistress Goodrich on the coded note and manner of its delivery. Doctor Foxe, I trust your good sense and godliness to mediate upon any dispute and arrive at a common understanding. Let us convene here at eleven bells this next Friday to complete the preparations.’
Thirty-Five
It is Friday. The bells have rung for the hour of eleven and we wait in Mister Secretary’s chamber of business at his house in Seething Lane. The last day, four of us reasoned and argued long into the night over the particulars to the scheme for lure and seizure of the conspirators. It was a tortuous, and at times vexing, passage to the brief we will put to Sir Francis today. We deliberated at length on the text of the message to be sent to both parties. Mylles was all for devising an ornate and protracted message from Oxford to Wensum reflecting the character of the sender. Under the same logic, he proposed Wensum’s note to Oxford should be brief and business-like. My opinion was that both notes should be identical and from a third party – the ‘g’ in the original cipher, which we understood to be Henry, Duke of Guise. I considered it unlikely that Oxford would take well to a summons, however urgent and disguised, from a man such as Wensum. My view prevailed, with strong support from Mistress Goodrich.
It was a relief that Mylles’ early tetchiness improved as the day progressed. Words of encouragement and praise from John and me eased his humor and we worked together on the cipher in good spirits. It was a surprise when Mistress Goodrich examined our work and corrected a small error. It became apparent that, not only is she proficient in ciphers, but that she also runs her own network of intelligencers. Her connections are exclusively of the female sex and range from keepers of whorehouses to titled ladies. I had not suspected that the fairer sex would be recruited for employment of this nature. On deeper reflection, this revelation should not have amazed; they are often well-placed to overhear unguarded moments through supposed unworldliness and delicate disposition. I hold Mistress Goodrich in high regard; she has formidable intellect and it is clear that she is well practised in the art of intrigue. Nevertheless, it was her contrivance for the delivery of one of the messages that has caused me great discomfort and unease.
Captain Askham enters the chamber with the news that Walsingham is delayed. Scurrilous tracts have been discovered circulating by St Paul’s. He hands a torn copy to me. It is as we feared; the first printing of the claim of a hidden bastard heir and the ‘proof’ of an astrological chart. I pass it to Mylles. Askham warns that Sir Francis will be in ill-humor when he arrives, so it would be prudent to offer a firm stratagem with one voice. He will not take kindly to argument and uncertainty.
Askham removes his cloak and stands by the fire. He declares the air outside is bitter and expects snow later this day. John has read the tract and offers an opinion on the timing of its circulation. Christmastide is almost upon us and he avers it is no accident it appears now, in good time for the celebrations of our Lord’s birth, when labour stops, men mingle and over-indulgence loosens tongues. We are all in agreement.
Askham says that he has diverted his journey from Greenwich with a survey of the North Quay. He has found a storehouse owned by Sir George that offers promise in its location. It lies at the end of a passage only fifty paces from an inn where his men can be positioned. Further, an adjoining storehouse may be leased for a short time and there are ships with an unobscured view of the store frontage, which can be a commandeered as a place of surveillance and control.
We pass the time waiting for Walsingham in our own ways. I join with Mylles to check our ciphers and each detail of our scheme. John reads a book and Mistress Goodrich has left our chamber to attend the organisation of the household. Askham is impatient; comes and goes from this chamber; to the stables; to confer with Mistress Goodrich; to peer over my shoulder; to warm by the fire.
A commotion at the front of the house signals his arrival. He enters the chamber in a flurry of whirling cloak and scurrying servants. My eyes are drawn to the gold chain of office still hung around his shoulders. He strides to the table and takes his seat without word of greeting. His pale face winces with pain as he adjusts his posture and I am reminded of my thoughts about a deep-seated ailment.
‘You have heard of the appearance of a foul treatise?’ His tone is clipped and sharp. ‘Time is short. The matter must be settled.’
Mistress Goodrich enters quietly and dismisses the servants. Walsingham waves his hand to indicate that we should sit. Mylles enquires if any holding the tract have been taken. He is ignored and I take this to imply a negative. He answers John’s query about a printer with politeness. More than fifty men are presently searching all known printers’ workshops in the City. He unsheathes his dagger and places it flat on the table.
‘Come now, please forgive my shortness. I have suffered a troubling start to this day. Is the plan readied? My eyes and ears are eager for the fruit of your labours.’
It is Mylles who sets out the particulars of our plan, although he is somewhat hesitant in his speech. He describes our discussions about the construction of the notes, the final decision to be brief and to mark the summons in the name of the supposed Guise, with the letter ‘g.’ The location and timing of the rendezvous await the result of our present deliberations.
‘Mistress Goodrich offered solutions for the delivery of the messages. Tuesday next is the day the court will transfer to Greenwich from Whitehall for Christmastide. The Earl has a bedchamber and other rooms near to the Queen’s private apartments at Greenwich. The box and the note will be waiting his arrival there on his pillows.’
Walsingham bows his head in approval and says, ‘What of the tokens within the boxes? They must be significant and the choice of these articles has taxed my thinking.’
‘We are decided on a burnt twig in both boxes, Sir Francis. This would signify a matter connected to the “great burning”.’
‘Ha, I like it. It is simple and direct,’ states Walsingham. ‘Your gathering here proved to be rich in invention and good sense.’ The improvement in his humor allows an easing in the air and this encourages Mylles to talk with more confidence as he continues.
‘The method of delivery of the box to Wensum was an aspect that tested our ingenuity. After much discussion we agreed to adopt the device proposed by Mistress Goodrich. For reasons that are understandable, William had grave misgivings, but in the end acceded to the general view.’
‘What is it, William? What concerns you?’
‘It is decided that I shall use my attachment to Helen Morton. I will request that she places the box in Wensum’s chamber of business while he is away. Sir George has forbidden our meeting and my presence at his house, so I must contrive to meet her in secret. There is a lady known to Mistress Goodrich lodged nearby in Bishops
gate. A note will be sent from this lady to Helen under pretence that a herbal soother is required for childbearing pains. On arrival, her servant will be directed to another matter and Helen will be guided to a chamber where I will wait, in place of the lady.’
‘I do not know the Morton maid, but if you have formed an attachment, William, I suspect that she has a strong spirit and will be willing to do your bidding.’
‘I thank you for your compliment, Sir Francis. She has a good mind and is of a fiercely independent disposition. Whether she will be compliant… well, I know I must persuade her.’
Attention turns to Askham who is asked to report on his survey of the North Quay. He explains in some detail how his men will be positioned and there is some discussion on how many will be needed.
‘The day will be Wednesday next, which is Christmas Eve,’ announces Walsingham. ‘Does anyone have an opinion of its suitability or otherwise?’
I say, ‘It is a date wisely chosen, Sir Francis. The day after receiving the boxes and their messages will shorten the interval in which Oxford and Wensum have to make enquiries about their veracity. No doubt they will question chamber servants and other attendants on the nature of delivery, so their placing must be done discreetly and without their knowledge.’
Askham adds, ‘Christmas Eve will be a day of busy preparations and the completion of labours on the quay before the days of celebration. These comings and goings will provide cover for our watching and positioning. A later date, during the work holidays, will leave the quay and its surrounds bereft of normal activity. It will make our quarry wary and the element of surprise more difficult to achieve.’
‘Good, we are agreed. The timing during the day is of your choosing, Captain.’
‘Then, let it be midday.’
Walsingham ends with a caution that Oxford must not be harmed. Preference is also for Wensum to be taken alive, with the fate of others left to Askham’s discretion. Our meeting closes and we begin to disperse. The Captain takes me to one side and enquires if I intend to be present at the North Quay.
‘I had not thought about it, but…’
‘It is your scheme.’
‘Yes, you are right. I should be there.’
Thirty-Six
This morning the funeral of Gregory was held at St Giles. It was a mournful affair. I spoke of my high regard for his steadfastness in my service, although his time in our household was short. John gave an oration and I was thankful that he did not dwell on matters of high religion and a damning of the Catholic Church. Instead, he was soft and sorrowful at the loss of one so young and blameless. I believe his family were both awed and comforted to hear the renowned Doctor Foxe assure them that the promise of a young and loyal soul would be welcomed into His grace.
Now, I am here, alone in the receiving chamber of a house and family I do not know, waiting for Helen. I have not been told who lives here, nor have I met the master or mistress. I assume the owner is a man of wealth and influence as it is a large house with fine furnishings. The door was answered by a maidservant, who was ushered away by Mistress Goodrich. She has prepared well for this encounter. I have been waiting here for over one hour, undisturbed. The fire is set; wine and a tray of cold meats and pickles await my pleasure on a table; and two chairs are arranged for our conversation. I am impatient for her company, fearful of what I must ask and worried that her affection for me has fallen so low that she will not comply easily, or not at all.
The door opens. It is… Jane Dee who enters, closely followed by Helen. My spirits sink. The speech I have rehearsed will not serve with the two of them present. I bend stiffly and clear my throat.
‘Ladies, I bid you God’s blessing on this day and beg your forgiveness for this cheap and unworthy deception.’
‘Why, William…’ exclaims Jane, ‘It is a surprise. We are here to…’ She glances at Helen, turns to me, smiles and bows her head. ‘I understand the meaning of this ploy. I will leave you to request a pot of hot water from the kitchens.’
‘No Jane, please stay with us. My father has forbidden me from meeting with Doctor Constable. He knows this. Some days past it was my dearest wish to be close with him. Now, I must know if my feelings were misplaced by a clever mind and smooth words. I would have him explain away the nature of the hurt inflicted on my father and led to his stern injunction.’
‘Helen… my dear… I cannot.’
‘Cannot, because you have no pretty words? Cannot, because your behaviour would not be excused? Or, cannot because there is some other impediment?’
‘Fine words do not flow easily from me, but it is the third of your reasons that is the cause of my embarrassment.’
‘Well, we will be interested to hear of this mysterious force that cast you out of my father’s high regard.’
‘It is not in my gift to be free in justification. I am bound by a higher authority to guard my words on the matter.’ I pause to consider how much I can disclose. ‘I will tell as much as I am able to you, Helen. I would spare Jane from a complex and upsetting story.’
They are stilled by my words. Jane touches Helen’s arm as though she would go, but Helen holds her back. Jane Dee has played a small, unknowing part in the conspiracy; perhaps she should know. They are undecided. Helen whispers in Jane’s ear. They link arms and straighten their posture. Helen has an expression of defiance. Jane is puzzled.
‘Very well.’ I am careful and deliberate in my speech. ‘I found myself in a position where I had to choose between two disagreeable circumstances for your father.’ This has not started well. I should enlarge the telling to include the assault on Jane at Mortlake. ‘No, I must begin at an earlier place.’ I hesitate again. ‘I have been assisting in an arrangement to safeguard our Queen. In particular, many of my recent activities have been undertaken in the service of Sir Francis Walsingham.’ Their eyes widen and I see a slight trembling in Jane’s lip. ‘There is a conspiracy in hand to harm our state and Her Majesty’s good name. A connection to astrology was suspected and I was consulted on this matter by Mister Secretary.’
‘But how does this concern my father?’
‘I must outline the initial circumstances first, and beg your forbearance for a short while. A star chart was discovered, with a cipher. Together, these forewarned of a near date for the downfall of the Queen and an invasion by foreign powers.’ There is a look of disbelief on Helen’s face. Jane has lowered her head and I wonder if she has guessed some of what is to come. ‘Christopher Millen was implicated in the creation of the star chart. He has been killed, and we surmise that his murder was done by other conspirators to prevent further intelligence from his questioning.’
‘Who is Christopher Millen?’ asks Helen.
‘He is… was an associate of my husband, practised in astrology,’ answers Jane. ‘I had no particular love for the man, but would not wish…’ She lifts her head. ‘So this was the cause of the attack on our house at Mortlake?’
‘Yes. Millen is also the man who cast the stars for the most propitious date for the sailing of your father’s great adventure, Helen.’
Helen puts her arms around Jane and they embrace. I cannot judge if Jane is weeping, or they simply seek closeness to protect against the images of horror conjured from my telling.
‘I suspected that the conspiracy was wider in its scope than planting seeds of unrest about Her Majesty’s fate in order to soften the conditions for an invading force. Through my work on the navigation instrument I came to understand that there was a connection to the great adventure.’
Helen breaks from her embrace with a quizzical face. ‘I cannot imagine how these two diverse events could be joined? Was there… an intention…?’
‘The protection of Spanish interests in the New Lands and the treasure ships that sail from there was the purpose. The conspiracy has two strands: overthrow our monarch; and stop the great venture.’
‘In that case my father is an intended victim.’
‘Yes, but in a s
tate of heightened alarm and readiness to explore all possibilities, fevered minds guarding our state considered that the ships and men may be gathered to assist an invasion. Your father could have been taken by Mister Secretary’s men to a place of inquisition for fierce interrogation. I pleaded for a gentler alternative for the questioning of your father and Captain Hawkins at my house, by two men I trusted.’
Her mouth is open and she nods her head slowly. ‘And he returned home from that questioning in foul humor with intense anger for your actions.’
‘I anticipated that he would take great offence at my subterfuge and his questioning, but I hoped that in time…’
She rushes to me, throws her arms around my middle and lays her head on my chest, murmuring my name. I have succeeded in making peace with Helen, but there is more to be done. I am uneasy at the extent and manner of my telling. Was I too generous in detailing the conspiracy? Should I have related the killing of Millen? I loose myself softly from Helen’s arms and request they both swear not to reveal what they have heard. Jane agrees willingly. Helen asks if I have told all.
‘I have informed more than I should. There are other refinements and intricacies that I cannot disclose and I must ask that you do not press me on these. There will be a time, close to this day, when more can be revealed. Until then, I beg you understand the vital importance of holding secret what you have learned today. You must tell no-one, even those closest and most trustworthy.’ I hold their hands and squeeze them gently in reassurance while they quietly affirm their discretion.
‘Now, I must speak to Helen alone in this chamber, Jane. Will you excuse us?’
She hugs Helen, bobs a brief curtsey to me and departs. I take Helen in my arms and kiss her. After a little hesitancy, she presses with an eagerness to match mine. The kiss lingers and I feel her tremble as my right hand explores the curve from her neck to the small of her back. Just a little longer… I break from her – too quickly. She is startled.