Gideon's Angel

by Clifford Beal

  I looked at her, my head sinking back again into the pillow. “Why did you lie to me, Maggie?”

  She looked straight into my eyes and spoke without hesitation, almost as if she had been expecting the question. “I did it to save you. I don’t regret it... for the moment at least.”

  “You led him here to Devon, to me.” By now, d’Artagnan had heard me speak and was standing next to Maggie, an arm upon the bedpost.

  “Yes, I did lead him here. But I also told him that before he killed you he would have to kill me.”

  “That was very clever stagecraft you managed,” said d’Artagnan in French, looking at me with a soft smile. “The Cardinal thought you were playing your role well at the English court. Too well as it turns out. You have forgotten your orders, sir.”

  “And His Eminence is a man who does not like being made the fool?” I mumbled.

  “Tout a fait, Colonel. He knows of your part in this hare-brained uprising against Parliament. He knows, and he does not approve. You should have known better than to run out on your employer and benefactor.”

  “You may piss off back to France.”

  D’Artagnan shook his head slowly. “No, I cannot. Not without you. You might recall our orders the last time we served together, ‘If you can’t bring him out, you must kill him’. I’m afraid these orders are unchanged.”

  I said nothing.

  “Don’t be upset, Colonel. Consider this all a mark of great respect for your skills. If anyone could make this rebellion against Cromwell happen, it is you. The Cardinal knows this and the Cardinal does not want this to occur. Not before he knows the alternatives. It’s not in the interest of France.”

  Maggie spoke up, and it was clear she knew I was wounded by her betrayal. “And he saved your life last night... with Billy. He could have let those Parliament men finish you, but he pulled you out just the same.”

  She was right, but so too was d’Artagnan cunning. Maybe he thought they would not kill me and I might later escape to do some damage after all. But no, I knew in my heart that she had convinced the Lieutenant to fetch me out, back to her, and back to France.

  “How did you know where they had taken me?” I said.

  She reached out and grasped my arm. “That was down to Billy. He followed at a distance and observed where they took you. Thank God it was not far out of the town. He returned, half-dead, to find me at my inn and tell me the news. The rest you have discovered for yourself.”

  D’Artagnan reached out towards me. In his hand was my Scottish dirk. “I recognised this from our little adventure last summer. It was on the table where I found you. Used it to cut your bonds... only fitting, no?”

  I tried to smile. “That it is. But you have exchanged it for my shoes.” Fludd could use any item that belonged to me to track me down. D’Artagnan gave me a puzzled look but his impending retort was interrupted by the entry of Billy, a satchel thrown over his shoulder.

  “Good morrow, Mister Eff!” he said, noticing that I was awake. “Looking better than last night, I do see.” He set down his burden and came over to the bedside. I saw that it was my own satchel he had somehow retrieved from our inn. “They gave you a mighty basting and I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your aid in time, though the Lord knows I did try.”

  “Where were you when they burst in at the Mitre? You were at the window one minute and the next gone.”

  Billy nodded, his face more haggard, and suddenly, more grave than usual. “I saw that thing, sir. I did. That ape beast with wings. I was near the back of the tavern when of a sudden it swooped down, knocked my hat from my head and nearly took me down too. First I thought it was some night hawk or owl. But it came again and I saw its face. It was all teeth and claws.” He held out his raked and torn sleeves for me to see. He then rolled these up to reveal huge red welts and scratches on both forearms. “Did my best to fend the beast off with my blade but I’m ashamed to say, I ran like a coward anyway. I’m sorry I left you to it, Mister Eff. Heartily sorry indeed.”

  I could not blame him for running. Even if he had managed to fight alongside me, the outcome would have been the same. “You did the right thing. If you had not followed and then fetched help, I would now most likely be dead and gone.” I turned to Maggie. “Do you believe me now? That we’re fighting more than men of flesh and blood?”

  Maggie pursed her lips and said nothing.

  “Have you told the Lieutenant what I told you about Gideon Fludd?”

  “I have,” she said quietly. “But I do not think he believes that magic is afoot.”

  I laughed hoarsely. “What? He’s a Catholic, isn’t he? Sounds as if the Cardinal has not confided everything to our dear d’Artagnan.”

  Billy was eager to lend support. “Aye, mistress, it’s all the truth. I’d swear upon the Bible that it is so. You can tell that to the foreign gentleman.”

  “Those who do not believe must often see things for themselves to do so,” said Maggie, almost apologetically. D’Artagnan had wandered back to the window again, lost in his own deliberations and bored of the English patter.

  “Whose house is this?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “They are Catholics, merchants who compounded with Parliament to retain their house and business. We’re very close to Topsham, I think. Somehow d’Artagnan knew of them and brought us here.”

  I nodded. “A safe house in Topsham known to the Cardinal? Christ, he does have a long reach.”

  “We can stay until you’re better. The Lieutenant plans for us to hire a coach and make for Lyme Regis in a few days.”

  “As simple as that, is it?” I said, feeling like a runaway apprentice about to be dragged back to his master. “Maggie, whilst I was being held last night, something happened. Something terrible is being planned, something that I’m hardly prepared to face. Yet... you will have a hard time believing my tale. D’Artagnan will no doubt call me a liar or a fool.”

  “What is it, my love? What did Fludd say?”

  I closed my eyes. “Not now. I hunger and thirst—and my head, Christ my head... Billy, fetch us some food from the mistress of this place, and drink, will you?”

  Billy nodded and turned to go. He seemed as lost as me given this turn of events. We were more tied together than ever before, having both witnessed the unbelievable. And even Billy had not seen the awful and dreadful wonders that I had. He was still struggling with what he had seen with his own eyes, something that could not exist in his creed if there was no hell.

  “Maggie, I need to shave off this beard and clean myself. Perhaps I could borrow a razor and some scissors from our hosts? And after I have downed some fare I’ll tell all of you what happened to me last night, whether you believe it or not.”

  A remembrance of the night before, I could only bring myself to tell in the full light of the day, out of doors, in the warmth of the sun. My companions, both the invited and uninvited, sat with me in the herb garden behind the house. The master of the house, our gracious host, was an older gentleman and clearly terrified of our presence in his midst. One suspicious report to the mayor about his odd guests and he would lose everything. I could see him peeking from his larder window at our little gathering. Still, thanks to him I was fresh shaved and proper again in borrowed coat and breeches. But I looked a mighty rogue with the injuries on my purpled face, a great black scab running up the right side of my nose and a jagged welt where Fludd had flicked the dagger. God knows who this old man thought I was; I could smell the fear on him at thirty paces. He knew he was harbouring treasonous folk. That he allowed us to stay, it must have been, I suppose, from the duty of his Catholic faith or fear of the Cardinal. Whatever his motive, he was as nervous as a hen.

  I told my tale in English for the benefit of Billy, asking Maggie to translate all to d’Artagnan. And when I had finished, after some minutes of recalling the horrors I had witnessed, there was silence. Billy swept his palm through his long greasy hair, muttering a low oath. Maggie seemed torn wheth
er to believe or not for my sake, and d’Artagnan, ever the sceptic, wore a thin, parsimonious smile as he stared at me. He was obviously deciding whether I was plain mad or just devious. It was he who finally broke the silence.

  “And what would you have me say then, Colonel, about your mysterious vengeful angel? I saw nothing of what you described yet I was there too.”

  “You were not in or near that room, sir,” I said. “Perhaps it had gone by the time you discovered me on the floor. But the threat was clear. A foul outrage is about to be executed in London.”

  “But my dear fellow,” said d’Artagnan, “You might have been senseless from your beating and have dreamt the whole visitation, no?”

  “I was wide awake, and frightened for my very life.”

  “And what do you propose, Monsieur?”

  I swallowed, still unsure whether I had made the right decision. “I must warn Cromwell of the plot to kill him. This is what His Eminence had an inkling of—what he had tasked me to uncover. Cromwell must be told that the Fifth Monarchists will strike in the next two weeks. If he dissolves Parliament as many already believe—and the angel foretold—then they will strike the sooner. You can help me warn him. Surely you carry a pass of safe conduct from the Cardinal. You could go to Whitehall or even Hampton Court.”

  D’Artagnan laughed as if he had just heard a good joke. “Tell the Lord General that the Angel of Death is coming for him? You came back to England to assassinate him, didn’t you? It was an easy supposition for us to make and one the Cardinal has taken seriously.” He slowly shook his head at me. “No, Colonel, I am no simpleton and neither are you. You cannot expect me to escort you to within arm’s reach of Cromwell, carrying such a foolish story.”

  I looked down at the rosemary, thyme, and fresh shoots of lavender that sprouted in the garden bed in front of my borrowed shoes. “Very well. I confess it was my intention to kill the dictator. But that was before I learned certain truths, even before the other night’s revelations. In my heart I know now that he is the only man who can keep England from destroying itself. As a comrade in arms, I beg you to believe me. I wish to save the Lord General, not destroy him.”

  D’Artagnan got up and brushed off his breeches. “Colonel, you know full well that there are plots hatched against Cromwell month in and month out. His intelligencers, including Monsieur Thurloe, are fully aware of what is afoot at any moment. The Post Office is an impressive collection of fellows. His Eminence is even jealous of their skills, I think. If these radical Protestants mean to murder Cromwell, it is no doubt already known. A web is probably being spun against them as we speak.”

  I stood and gently gripped the musketeer’s arm. “D’Artagnan, no bodyguard can stand between the unworldly creature I have seen in that house and Cromwell. He needs to be warned. You must allow me to go to London, indeed you must come with me!” My plea sounded foolish even to my own ears. And if it was an avenging angel that served the Fifth Monarchists, what weapons could ever be raised against it? Was it God’s will?

  I need not have worried that d’Artagnan would ally with me to face the beings of the ether. He placed his hand on my shoulder, clearly convinced that I ought to be taken to Bedlam. “Sir, we will have you convalesce another day or two yet, and then we will return to France. These last days have overwrought you, admit it to yourself. The Cardinal seeks no punishment against you. You’re too valued a servant to the Crown. Come, end this fantasy, sir. Accompany your good lady back to Paris and leave all this nonsense behind.”

  I nodded slowly. Not in agreement but in recognition that I had failed to convince him. “I am hurt and tired, d’Artagnan. You’re in the right, sir, in the right.”

  Maggie was then at my elbow. “Come, Richard, let us go back inside.”

  I turned and caught Billy’s gaze. “He doesn’t believe you, that much I can understand at least,” said Billy. “Don’t you worry, Mister Eff, I believe. And even if only half of it’s true, then God help us all.”

  I smiled back at him. “What can a man do, Fellow Creature, when he is but a man.”

  “Amen, sir.” But something in Billy’s eyes told me he was far from ready to give up on things so soon. A certain look, maybe a flash of intent he let slip, that said he was still willing to take revenge for himself, for me, and for the kingdom.

  I was as meek as a lamb the next two days. D’Artagnan and Maggie somehow managed to find me some new rig to replace that which was bloodied and soiled and, marvel of marvels, produced a fine pair of black boots for me too. I’d never been comfortable in those shoes. Maggie didn’t trust me to go back to France of my own free will, that I could see in the way her eyes watched me. And her words were carefully chosen ones, meant to elicit from me even a subtle hint that I intended some rash escape. But I kept my counsel to myself. It was late in the afternoon on the second day at the safe house before I had the opportunity to find a moment alone with Maggie. We strolled through the walled garden of the big brick house, along carefully tended pathways of slate flags and beds of marjoram, parsley and chives. Pushing down further into the garden in the full, warm sun, we entered a stand of box and yew, musty and fragrant. I pulled her in after me and embraced her in the green shadows and cool darkness of their thick canopy.

  “I was angered when I discovered you were with him,” I whispered. “But my heart could not stay cold—a few days ago I thought I would never see you again, and then, thank God, you were here with me.”

  “I would follow you again, my love, to save you if needs must. I have my father’s doggedness in such things.”

  I brushed her cheek and caressed the locks that lay hidden beneath her linen cap. “Do you believe me? About what things I have seen. About what the angel foretold.”

  Her smile was one of pure, sweet faith. “Richard, I do believe you.”

  “Even so,” I said, looking down and brushing my lips over her bosom, “the Lieutenant is sound in his judgement. There’s nothing more I can do here. Cromwell must fight his own battles with the monsters he created. We have to go back. And I must make amends with the Cardinal somehow.”

  She stroked her hand along my now smooth chin and mouth. “I’ve uncovered a new person entirely here under that beard. It’s a change for the better, I think. It will be as it was before.”

  “Monsieur d’Artagnan has treated you civilly, I hope... I mean, as you travelled together.”

  For just an instant, one eyebrow arched, and I knew I had ventured too far.

  “He has ever been the gentleman, Richard. Is this jealousy I hear?”

  “No, Maggie,” I said. “It’s just that I must know that you have confidence in him. He’s your protector on this voyage, is he not?”

  Maggie laughed. “Well, I suppose I have had to look after him here in England as much as he has looked after me. He speaks barely a word of English.”

  “Just make sure you stay with him at all times... for safety’s sake.”

  She squeezed me. “But I will have two gentlemen to escort me back to Paris, not just one!”

  “Of course, you will! We three will escort one the other.”

  BILLY CHARD’S PACING across my room worried me. “Here now! Are you settled in your mind with all this? If not, I must know now, not later.”

  The host was out in Topsham to market, d’Artagnan had gone off to make final arrangements about a coach and two, and Maggie was safely tied up on the bed, gagged, and as furious as a cat in a sack.

  “Look here, Colonel... Mister Eff. I mean to keep my bargain with you. You know it’s what I want, sir. And I’ll pay back whatever fucking thing it was that cut me up and anything in league with it. But this is a buffle-headed plan as ever I heard.”

  “Aye, not a clever plan, I warrant. But I’m afraid I can’t think of any other. If I can gain us but a few hours start, we’ll confuse the hounds. Don’t you worry. Are the horses out of sight of the front of the house?”

  Billy grimaced. “Goddamn it, Mister Eff. What do y
ou take me for, somebody kicked once too many times in the head? I’ve got the provisions and kit strapped to the saddles. Even stole a sword for you from the downstairs hallway.”

  “Billy, I should have given you more credit.”

  We were both quiet for a minute or two. Then he said, “I’m not ashamed to say I’m afraid. Fear is what’s kept me alive many a time, it has.”

  I nodded.

  “But,” he said, absently rubbing his wounded forearm, “I have to know, sir. I have to know what is out there. If it’s all true then my creed is wrong—I’m wrong. And the world is about to end.”

  “I don’t know about the end of the world but I do know I owe General Cromwell a blood debt from long ago. I mean to warn him and pay it back.” I walked over to the bed and looked at Maggie. She had stopped struggling now, just lying motionless, eyes wide open. When she fastened them upon me, she could have turned me to stone.

  “Do not despise me, my love. There is no other way. I can’t take you to London with what is about to happen there. D’Artagnan will take you back to France and out of harm’s way. Stay with him. You alone have my heart and no other, Maggie.”

  Her eyes held both rage and hurt but little else. I would not find forgiveness that day.

  My voice fell to a whisper. “Maggie, please forgive me for this.”

  “Mister Eff! He’s coming now.”

  I had Billy’s pistol pressed to the Frenchman’s temple as soon as he passed through the doorway. He slowly raised his hands.

  “And now, monsieur?” he said.

  After Billy had relieved d’Artagnan of his rapier and bound him at the foot of the bed, he then went about stripping off a pillowcase to fashion a gag. The musketeer looked up from the floor, almost comically holding on to his dignity as he sat there trussed up, as if we were in some game.