by Sam Burnell
The next day Richard left the meeting with Fairfax with a list of instructions to carry out and, more importantly, a date. He needed to contact the captain of the Dutch Flower and request safe passage for six additional passengers. The Lady Elizabeth would be accompanied by a lady of their choosing to attend to her needs and four others to ensure her safety on the journey.
Richard had also requested that he also be included in the group taking passage on the ship. He had easily convinced the group that he too would like the opportunity to escape a Catholic England as well. The only real objection had come from Thomas Cresswell who had suspected Richard of trying to claim a free passage at their expense. However when he had assured them that he would be financing his own crossing it had been agreed that he could join the group.
Richard had further offered to help on the night of the fire and attach himself to the group hoping to steal Elizabeth away; however Fairfax declined his help, feeling he would rather use just his own trusted men. He offered instead to send word to Richard when they were ready to go to the Dutch Flower so he could join the group. Richard reasoned that if they did indeed manage to acquire Elizabeth then at least he would be included in the group taking her to the ship, from there he might be able to ensure her safety and frustrate their plans.
The Captain was Hugo Drego; as Christian Carter had indicated, he was as solid and reliable as the ship he ran. The carriage of additional passengers wishing to escape the Catholic threats was not a problem. Drego, a Protestant himself, was sympathetic to their plight and the fare to Holland was a reasonable sum. Drego showed Richard the two cabins on board that they would have full use of for the passage; one was his own, which he was happy to vacate. Both were clean, adequately furnished and comfortable enough for the crossing.
He had the dates on which the Dutch Flower proposed to be in London during the next two months, plus he knew where to find Hugo when the ship was berthed. Fairfax was happy with the passage fee, it was agreed that after the Lady had been rescued from her enforced captivity, they would arrange for her to be taken quickly to the ship. All Richard had to do was to book the passage when they had finalised a date.
Richard returned from the meeting and cast his cloak over a chair, moving to stand in front of the fire where Jack was sitting warmed by the flames.
“Well, I was most wholly wrong; they do intend to go ahead but not soon. They have a date of the March 7th,” Richard said in response to Jack’s enquiring look.
“That’s nearly six weeks away,” Jack straightened in his chair. “What are we going to do until then? I thought you said they would need to act soon before Elizabeth was taken back to Court?”
“I did think so. Fairfax has friends at Court and he firmly believes plans have been put in place to move the Lady’s household back to Court, but not until the end of March. They don’t want to leave it any longer as they fear that Phillip will take Elizabeth to Court. If he does there is no chance of them ever getting anywhere near her,” Richard conceded. “And on that point they might be right. Phillip has four months to wait to see if he will have the answer to the succession, in that time it would be wise for him to keep Elizabeth close.”
“In case someone else decided to take a controlling hand in her affairs,” Jack supplied helpfully.
“Indeed. I am just surprised that they have not done this already. Our best hope would be that they do move her household to Court before the 7th, but I fear time is not going to be on our side,” Richard mused.
Chapter Ten
†
Durham Place was the most easterly of the houses along the east side of the Strand. Dating back to 1220 and built by the incumbent Bishop of Salisbury, it had been a royal palace for the Prince Bishops. Edward VI, in fulfilling his father’s will, had granted it to his sister, Elizabeth, in early 1549 and it had been hers ever since.
The house was built around three sides of an extensive courtyard. A red brick front housed two stories and glistened with no fewer than thirty windows. The fourth side housed the entrance and gatehouse, and, at the back, a short garden sloped gently to the Thames. A siding cut into the river meant the house had a private jetty and immediate access to the river. Fairfax’s elegant townhouse stood next along the Strand, elegant and spacious, yet dwarfed by the huge sprawl of Elizabeth’s manor.
Jack felt out of place. He elbowed Richard as they rode side by side along the road. “Isn’t that Somerset House?” he asked, inclining his head in the direction of the most impressive house they had passed yet.
“It is,” confirmed Richard. “I can remember when it was open fields and we used to ride there,” Pointing, he added, “Over there were three inns and the Church of the Nativity of Our Lady. As Lord Protector, he didn’t have difficulty acquiring them and levelling them to build this. It’s said the altar steps are still under the dais in the great hall.”
“Well it didn’t do him much good did it? It can’t have even been finished when Mary sent him to the block,” Jack commented, shaking his head.
“Barely finished,” agreed Richard.
“So who owns is it now?” Jack asked.
Richard smiled, “Thomas Tresham.”
Jack groaned inwardly, “And Tresham is…?”
“Grand Prior in England, of the Knights of St John,” Richard replied..
“That lot! Supposed to be bound by vows of chastity and poverty. I’m not seeing anyone living in there being particularly poor.” Jack scoffed.
“Nothing to stop you joining them,” Richard commented.
“There are just two problems with that. Firstly I don’t need to take a vow of poverty, it’s a permanent state which I am unhappily well acquainted with. And secondly, I am not making my life worse by taking a vow of chastity to mire it even further,” Jack replied. “You’d like it though. Poverty, chastity and an overwhelming sense of self importance; you’d get on with them fine.”
Richard shot him a sideways look and pushed his horse on a little faster.
Jack caught up quickly; he hadn’t finished. “Harry’s cousin is in the Order. Remind me, what is it say they say about arrogance?”
“Arrogance diminishes wisdom,” Richard replied darkly.
“No, not that one. Ah, I remember,” Jack grinned. “It’s only arrogance if you are wrong.”
“Are you trying to annoy me?” Richard responded tersely.
“Hardly,” Jack goaded. “When were you ever wrong?”
“Can we leave this until later? I know you are not happy with what I am trying to do,” Richard was trying to remain calm.
“Well, when I was drunk it sounded like a good idea,” Jack continued to annoy Richard. “Maybe I just need another drink or two.”
“Everything sounds like a good idea to you when you’re drunk,” Richard retorted. “I accept that you have let me know your true feelings. Now either help me, or shut up. Those are your choices.”
“Oh, I’ll help,” Jack leaned from the saddle so he was closer to Richard. “Just remember, I’ll be right there to remind you.”
Before he could sit back up, Richard grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. “Just remember where you were a scant eight weeks ago.” He let go quickly, Jack struggling to retain his balance.
“Alright, I’ll say not a word more,” Jack snapped. They continued the journey in silence. They travelled twice down the Strand passing Elizabeth’s house, Durham Place.
Richard broke the silence as they rode back to their lodgings, “What did you see?”
“Not much to see; if they are lucky and the smoke blows over the wall then there is only one exit. That’s from the gatehouse at the side, then down to the Strand. It’s a wide street and there are no paths off it for a hundred yards at least. So if they are lucky and they’d bloody well need to be and the smoke comes from Fairfax’s house in the direction God demands, then they’d leave through the gatehouse and go left down the Strand. If they have men in the street then they will undoubtedly meet her.” J
ack summarised.
“A fair assessment,” Richard agreed. “Any other ways out that you saw?”
“None,” Jack was wary, suspecting a trap.
“Alright, any other ways out that you can think of?” Richard said with exaggerated patience.
“You’re doing it again,” Jack complained.
“Doing what?” Richard said innocently.
“Treating me like you treat everyone else,” Jack retorted. “Like a bloody idiot.”
“Alright. A vice, I’m sure.” Richard admitted his palms open.
Jack glowered at him before he continued. “At the back of the house it will connect with the river, there’ll be moorings and also it will have its own private barge.”
Richard smiled, Jack continued. “The back of the house will be dark, the river darker still. If we were to tether a boat to the bank someway upstream it’s unlikely to be noticed: if you want to get someone out of the house that’s the way we go. We go backward, rather than forward, away from Fairfax and his mob.” Jack paused and looked at Richard’s face. “But you’ve already thought this through. Already have a boat in place I would guess. Am I right?”
“Probably,” Richard conceded.
“Why do you bother asking my opinion when your course is already set? It is, Richard, bloody annoying. So you plan to take her out down the river?” Jack finished.
“If we enter the back of the house, we can wait to see if Fairfax’s orchard sets alight. If it does then we can be helpful neighbours perhaps and guide the ladies to safety,” Richard outlined the action they could take.
“Sounds too easy; why would they come with us?” Jack was suspicious.
“The lady knows me, remember,” Richard reminded him.
“Well in most scenarios that should set her in the opposite direction if she has any bloody sense about her,” Jack scoffed. “Then where do we take her?”
“Either back into the keeping of Travers, or very soon after the fire starts the Queen’s men will also arrive and we can saely deliver her to them,” Richard ignoring Jack’s remark.
“Well let’s hope it goes well,” Jack said, having a feeling that it probably wouldn’t.
They returned to Richard’s lodgings. Jack opened the door and an unfamiliar tang met his nose. “What’s that smell?” Jack recoiled on the threshold.
“Clean, that’s what that smell is.” Lizbet stood in the room, skirts kirtled up, hair tied in a neat pile on her head, sleeves tucked up to her elbows, a brush in one hand and a cloth in the other. “Not that you would ever be acquainted with it,” Lizbet prodded Jack in the chest.
“For God’s sake woman, open a window.” Richard exclaimed, wholly in agreement with his brother. “It smells like an apothecary’s den in here.”
“It’s a bit of rosemary and rue that’s all. I’ve scrubbed the floors and table as well; it’s clean, and it’s stopping that way. There’s fresh rushes, new candles, the bedding has gone to be washed and here”- Lizbet reached into her pocket, - “is your change.” Lizbet reached down and taking Jack’s hand, opened it and let four coins slide neatly from her hand onto Jack’s palm. Then, reaching up, she tapped him under the chin. “Close that or you’ll be catching flies.” With that she left, banging the door closed behind her with a swing of her hips.
Richard laughed. “Well that is something you didn’t see coming! Where did you leave your money for her to find?”
“I didn’t,” Jack pulled out his purse and inspected the contents. “Cheeky wench, one of her many talents. Richard watch, your pockets with that one.”
“It’s a rare day when you meet a pickpocket and then get some of it back,” Richard laughed. “I think Lizbet is after more permanent employment,” he added, casting his eyes around the room.
“Well I’ll not complain, I admit it looks better. I might even invite a woman back here myself now,” Jack contemplated. Picking up the cards and seating himself, he idly began shuffling the deck.
“And what would Lizbet say about that?” Richard asked, pulling up a chair to the table to join Jack. The wood was paler, freshly scoured and smooth. He ran his palms appreciatively over the cool wood.
“She’ll not mind, she’ll be out now turning a trick on the side,” Jack began to deal out the cards between them, setting the remainder of the deck down with a heavy thump.
“Meaning?” Richard looked up from the cards. Jack had taken his hand, but Richard’s cards lay still scattered in front of him where Jack had dealt them.
Jack met his eyes, having heard the edge in Richard’s voice. “I meant she’s only a…”
“Don’t,” warned Richard, “finish that sentence.”
Jack stood suddenly, cards tumbling to the floor, grabbing his brother’s jacket he pulled him close. Richard felt Jack’s breath on his face; he didn’t recoil but matched his brother’s stare. Their eyes locked, grey and blue, angry and haunted. It was Jack who spoke first. “So, now you’re Lizbet’s champion are you?”
Richard wrenched himself free. “I’m nobody’s champion. You are a bastard, Jack. Do you think of yourself as such? I’m an outcast, a traitor, do I think of myself as such?”
“I’m not a bastard!” retorted Jack, banging his fist on the table, sending the suits to dance.
“Exactly!” Richard shouted back. “I’m not a traitor and Lizbet is not…,” with effort he lowered his voice, “a whore.”
“For God’s sake.” Jack pushed his hands through his hair. “You never waste a chance do you? To show me the difference between us.”
“Difference?” Richard was genuinely perplexed. “What difference?”
“You got everything I never got,” Jack retorted, “Everything! Servants, an education, the best horses, the best clothes. What did I get? A bloody straw bed, sometimes, food maybe and my backside kicked from breakfast time to evensong, that’s what I got. And now you start bloody lecturing me with your bloody humanist principles.”
“Well it took a long time coming, you’ve been looking for a fight all day. I’m glad we got there in the end,” Richard moved a pace or two backward from Jack.
“What do you mean, in the end?” Jack was shouting now, his anger barely contained.
“You think you are hamstrung because of your start in life. It’s not your fault; the fault lies with the world,” Richard said sarcastically.
“I’d be a bloody sight better off if I’d had your shoes.” Jack’s hand swept across the table, the abrupt angry gesture clearing it of what few cards remained following his previous outburst.
“Really? Why, what have I got you haven’t?” Richard’s temper was barely in check.
“I’ve told you,” Jack growled.
Richard retook his chair. “Sit down!”
Jack didn’t move.
“Sit down! We’ll weigh the scales, shall we?” Richard held his brother’s eyes with his own leaden stare.
Jack grudgingly sat.
“So, I got the feather bed, the education, a comfy and untroubled life, so you think,” Richard supplied. Jack didn’t reply; he just glowered at his brother. “And you, what did you get?”
“Bloody nothing,” Jack half shouted.
“Really?” Richard’s expression was incredulous. “I’ve rarely seen a man better than you with a sword. I’ve seen few who could best you on a horse. You read and write English well, Latin passably so, but don’t like anyone to know.” Richard opened his hands. “So how did you not get opportunities as well? Or did this all happen by some accident?”
“Aye, I got to attend classes with Harry, as his bloody whipping boy. I learnt at the hands of my masters, believe me they were cruel hands,” Jack stormed.
“Our father was no better to me. I’ll not compete with you Jack. Life has not been easy for either of us. Can we not draw a truce?”
“But you still got…”
Richard cut him off, exasperated, “For pity’s sake, I got what? What do you really feel you are missing? Tell me, tell
me and I shall get it for you?”
“You got an education. If I see you talking with the lawyers’ apprentices in the taproom, I can’t join you can I?” Jack spat back.
“Why not? Do you not have a mind of your own?” Richard retorted.
“I wouldn’t know where to bloody start,” Jack knew it sounded poor and petulant.
“If you must know, I got one year at Trinity in Cambridge; that was it, one bloody year. Then our father decided it was an expense he could do without.” Jack heard bitterness in his voice; Richard rarely opened a window into his soul. “I’ve leant more by my own enquiry. You’ve got an able mind Jack. Use it. Maybe you can free it of some of the prejudices that you harbour there.”
“Prejudices?” Jack shouted. “How dare you accuse me of such!”
“Jack, just ask yourself how you see Lizbet? She’s a whore; you can’t see past that can you? It colours the way you talk to her, the way you treat her. That’s her rung on the ladder of life and there she’ll remain in your mind. Clement might be a piece of snivelling filth that would be better crushed in the gutter, but in your ordered little world, brother, he’s far ahead of Lizbet on that ladder isn’t he?” Richard tried to keep his voice level but Jack heard the anger behind it. “So who is the better person? The one who tried to have you killed and used his letters and learning to get you into Marshalsea, or the one who wiped your arse for you and holds you when you scream in the night?”
There was horror on Jack’s face.
“I can hardly not hear you can I? She’ll not let me near you, she wishes to save you the shame. So who is the better person in your badly ordered bloody mind? It is still Clement, isn’t it?” Richard pushed his chair back and it toppled and banged heavily on the floor. “Isn’t it?”
Jack was on his feet, his face white with anger.
“How can you say that?” Jack accused, “I hate Clement he’s…”
“That’s not what I said. It isn’t how you feel about him, it’s how you regard him. He’s lettered, he’s a lawyer, he’s better than Lizbet, better than Roddy who runs the taproom down there. His rank makes him better than any of the men who rode with you: better than Dan, better than Froggy, better than Mat.”