Traitor

by David Hingley

  ‘You have changed your mind, I can see,’ said Mercia, arresting her retreat and daring a step forward. ‘You can stop in this course. Please, throw down the gun and you will be given your chance to speak. Your chance to explain.’

  ‘How?’ she said. ‘I have come too far. My God. I have … come too far.’

  ‘Then ease the burden on your soul, at least.’ Her head feeling as though it would shatter, Mercia walked round to put herself directly before the King. ‘Beseech God to save it.’

  ‘No!’ said the King. Urgently, he signalled to the guard to lower his gun. ‘Do not risk yourself!’

  ‘She trusts me,’ said Mercia, looking only at Lavinia. ‘She trusts me, and she will do as I ask.’

  Lavinia’s arm was still outstretched. ‘Mercia, I no longer have a choice. I should rather revenge my boy than betray him now.’

  ‘But Lavinia, you are no traitor. Not to your boy, not to the King, not to yourself. You are a woman overwhelmed with sadness at the horrors you have witnessed. I understand. But please, put that fury to better use than this. Please, Lavinia. Lower the gun.’

  A tear dropped onto her face. ‘Move away.’

  ‘Lavinia, please. This is not the answer.’

  ‘I said, move aside!’

  Somewhere to Mercia’s right, she heard the renewed cocking of a gun. Frantic, she raised her hand towards it.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, wait!’

  She glanced aside to see the guard lower his barrel. Then she turned back to Lavinia to resume her attempt.

  ‘Lavinia, I will not let you kill this man. This King. I know why you wish it, and I believe you think yourself right, but please. Tell him your grievance. Tell everyone. If you kill him, all that will happen is you will burn, a traitor indeed. A regicide, the same as the men who killed his father before him.’

  ‘But they were heroes, were they not?’

  Her aim faltered, dropping a half-inch. In the corner of Mercia’s eye, she saw the guard again raise his gun.

  ‘It could all be different,’ she said. She realised her whole body was trembling, and she sobbed as she managed a smile. ‘Do not be remembered this way.’ She took a step forward, and behind her, the King gasped. ‘Please, Lavinia. Lower your gun.’

  Lavinia blinked. Tears were now running down her face, just as they were starting down Mercia’s own. She hesitated, her hand shaking on her gun. And then she lowered her arm.

  ‘Thank you, Lavinia.’ Mercia put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear God. Thank you.’

  Lavinia nodded. All around, the guards seemed to relax.

  ‘I am sorry, Mercia,’ she said.

  Mercia held out her hand. ‘That is no matter. Give me the gun.’

  ‘I mean I am sorry I cannot do as you wish.’

  With unnatural dexterity, she jumped to Mercia’s right and raised her gun once more.

  ‘For my boy!’ she cried. ‘For my boy Charles, more worth to be a king than anyone!’

  With a scream of pain, Mercia leapt towards her. The guard to her right aimed his gun and fired.

  The shot rang through the air. Lavinia’s arm jerked, her pistol spiralling to the ground.

  And Mercia … Mercia fell beside it, clutching at her side as blood began to pour from the gash in her dress. Feeling faint, and scared, she looked up to see the guards surrounding Lavinia, until they faded into a blur. And then a face peered down, or what she thought was such, the King’s it seemed, but how could that be? He reached behind to ease her close, tearing at her dress to try to staunch her wound.

  ‘Mercia,’ he said. ‘Dear God. Brave Mercia.’

  She stared into his eyes. She managed a terrified smile. And then she tumbled once more into the clawing realms of darkness, certain she would never again wake.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘She is up! Nicky, she is up!’

  There was a bright, white light. A cannon was roaring through her head. And she thought she could hear a child’s voice.

  ‘Mamma, you are awake!’

  The room came into focus. There was a pleasant breeze wafting through an open window. On the other side, the chants and cries of the city sounded out. A church bell rang, she thought.

  ‘God’s truth.’ She clasped her head as she attempted to sit. A small hand appeared, grasping her arm.

  ‘Mamma! Hurrah, Mamma!’

  ‘Danny?’ She turned her head to look at him, but then winced at the pain in her side. ‘Danny, is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Mamma. And here is Nicky too!’

  ‘Nicky?’

  ‘He’s started to call me that.’ A man’s voice cut in; in the corner, he rose from a chair. ‘I thought you were going to sleep forever.’

  ‘Nicholas! I wish I still could sleep. But … I was in Harwich. I was …’ She looked down at her side.

  ‘The King’s guards tied a tourniquet.’ He looked at Daniel. ‘It was only a graze.’

  ‘And the King?’

  ‘He’s well, as far as I know.’

  She fell back. ‘Thank the Lord.’

  Daniel was dancing around her bedside. ‘Mamma, are we going home now? Someone said we are.’

  ‘They did?’ She tried to smile. ‘Danny, could you wait outside for me a moment?’

  He pulled a face. ‘You only just woke up.’

  ‘Please.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I need to speak with – Nicky. Just five minutes.’

  ‘Very well.’ He mocked a sigh and skipped through the door, shutting it behind him.

  ‘Was that a fake sigh?’ she asked, staring after him.

  ‘I think it was,’ said Nicholas. ‘Best get him away from Whitehall as soon as you can.’

  She looked up at him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’ He came beside her. ‘I wasn’t even there.’

  ‘You are here now. That is what matters. And I do not think this was merely a graze.’

  He sighed.

  ‘Now you are doing it.’

  ‘It was more than a graze,’ he admitted. ‘A few inches to the left, and … But you will recover.’

  ‘How did I get here?’

  ‘You were kept at Harwich for a while. I stayed with you, when I got off the ship. Then they put you in a coach and brought you back here.’

  ‘I remember none of that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. You’ve been in and out of sleep all the while.’

  ‘And Lavinia?’ A sadness filled her mind. ‘I remember her, at least.’

  ‘She’s in the Tower. I’m afraid … I wouldn’t hold out much hope.’

  Lavinia’s terrified face seemed to float before her. ‘Why is it when women – when men – are scarred by life as she was, then they are the ones who must suffer? Yet those who profit from the hatred that drives them live.’

  ‘That’s the way of life, Mercia. The question is, how you go about your own.’ He smiled at her. ‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Despite your wounds, you seem to be talking quite well already.’

  ‘I do, do I not? It hurts, though, here.’ She rubbed at her side. ‘I know now how my uncle must have felt when he was run through with that sword in New York.’ Uneasy, she bit her lip. ‘Do you know what happened to him?’

  ‘In a cell next to Lavinia, I should wager. His wife – your aunt – confessed it all when he came back to the palace, threatening to go out into London to shoot smugglers on sight. I think she feared for his soul. The palace guard had to be sent to restrain him.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe he was working with One-Eye.’

  ‘I think he was mad, in the end. But he has to pay for the death of Lady Allcot.’

  ‘I heard the King was thinking of locking him away. But Lavinia … she tried to kill the King. She won’t find any mercy.’

  The image of the awful night came back to her. ‘I am not sure she would have done it, even at the end.’

  ‘Then why did you jump at her?’

  ‘You know of that?’

&n
bsp; ‘It’s the talk of the palace. I’m told even Lady Cartwright has had to admit it was brave. That, or foolish.’

  ‘You seem bruised yourself.’ Of a sudden she sat up straight, and wished she had not. ‘Dear God! The battle! And the Duke!’

  Nicholas laughed. ‘That’s a story for another time. Suffice to say, thanks to your visit I had one eye of my own on Howe, and the other on the Duke.’

  ‘Please, Nicholas, I need to know what happened.’

  ‘Always so curious! At one point in the battle, the Duke came on deck for no particular reason, and I tell you, he nearly died. A cannonball came right over and killed the three men he was standing with – but the lucky bastard lived. Then he’s wandering around, covered in gore, throwing up on his precious red sash, and all of a sudden Howe seems to make up his mind and draws a gun. But I was watching him, and so … well. He was disarmed.’

  ‘By you?’

  ‘Maybe. But it was too much for the Duke. Later in the battle – which we won, by the by – he had the chance to pursue the Dutch, but instead he turned on his heels and came back to port. I think he was shocked from his skin.’

  ‘Lavinia told me Howe was going to make you kill the Duke, if he had to. She implied they had threatened your daughter.’

  ‘Truly?’ He frowned. ‘Howe never said a word to me. Perhaps he lost the will, in the end.’

  ‘Or perhaps Lavinia had grown too used to telling lies.’ She sighed. ‘Where is Howe now?’

  ‘Locked away too, as is Giles Malvern. I do not fancy their chances either.’

  ‘Cornelia?’

  ‘Why mention her?’

  ‘Oh. Does nobody know?’

  He shook his head. ‘Howe says he and Malvern acted alone. With Lavinia, I mean.’

  ‘I see.’ She looked towards the window, towards the light. ‘Then let us say no more about it. But … I do not think they acted alone.’

  A week later, when she was recovered, she went to see the King. Not during his getting up, or his going to bed, when the people could come. But in a very private room with only herself and one other as witness. A beautiful woman, all silk, radiance, and smiles.

  ‘Mrs Blakewood.’ Lady Castlemaine was beaming from ear to ringed ear, animating the fabulous face patch she was wearing: a canary fleeing its cage. ‘Come in, come in.’

  The King was more decorous. ‘Mrs Blakewood. It is gratifying to see you are much improved.’

  She tried a curtsey, but she could only manage half of it. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Please, it must be uncomfortable for you.’ He indicated one of his high-backed chairs. ‘Will you sit?’

  ‘How fares Your Majesty?’ she asked as she complied.

  ‘I am well, thanks to you. Certainly, I am pleased you came to Harwich.’

  ‘The Duke also?’

  ‘He won the battle,’ said the King, and that was that.

  ‘Mrs Blakewood,’ said Lady Castlemaine. ‘I knew I had made the right choice in selecting you for this task. And Lavinia Whent … she fooled us both for a time, did she not, but we caught her in the end.’

  ‘Indeed we did,’ Mercia replied, looking on through knowing eyes.

  The King raised the slightest eyebrow and smiled. ‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘This painting above me hangs where it should, a revolt in the colonies has been averted, I am told, and you have unmasked our spy. A threefold success, Mrs Blakewood. I shall have to consider you in the future for other endeavours.’

  Her heart sank, just a little. ‘I am honoured, Your Majesty.’

  ‘But for now there is the matter of your manor house.’

  Her stomach churned. This was the moment. After all she had done, would he help her, or would he not?

  And then he rose. ‘Mrs Blakewood, while you were recovering, I instructed the relevant authorities to investigate your claim on the manor house at Halescott, lately belonging to Sir Francis Simmonds, your uncle, and before that, to Sir Rowland Goodridge, your late father.’

  She waited.

  ‘I have to tell you, the points of law debated around the ownership of the manor were reportedly of no small interest.’ He licked his lips. ‘But Sir Francis is now imprisoned for his part in abetting murder, colluding with smugglers, and attempting to thwart the King’s will. You, on the other hand, have also colluded with smugglers, which transgression we have seen fit to pardon, given the circumstances in which that collusion arose. And so I have come to a course of action.’ He took a slow breath. ‘I have decided to appropriate Sir Francis’s estates, such as is permitted me by law, including the Halescott manor house – for myself.’

  She let out a gasp. She could not help it. Was this how everything was going to end, with the King taking what should be hers?

  But he was smiling. ‘And so I can inform you, that in view of your service … and as soon as the legalities are finalised … I shall see fit to transfer the manor and its lands into a trust, for your son, Daniel Blakewood. Such trust to be held by yourself as his guardian until he comes of age.’

  For a moment, she could not speak. The strife of the past year came upon her all at once, and just as quickly it was gone. The relief was too intense, the magnitude of her accomplishment too great, and all she could do was nod, battling to hold back the thankful tears. But then she took a deep breath, and she performed her half-curtsey, and she looked at the King who had set her on such trials.

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ she said.

  ‘I hear Daniel performed well with the other boys while he was here,’ he continued. ‘I shall expect to see him play his part, when he is older.’ He pointed to his left. ‘Barbara here mentioned something about a title, I believe. Let us see how his mother comports herself in the years to come and … we shall see.’ He gave her a meaningful glance. ‘We shall see.’

  ‘And now you may go,’ said Lady Castlemaine. ‘You must need to prepare to leave.’

  Mercia looked at her patron, recognising the dismissal for what it was. But she was not about to leave just yet.

  She bowed. ‘There is something else, Your Majesty, if I may be so bold.’

  ‘There was never any fear of you not being so. Please, speak.’

  ‘’Tis my maidservant, Phibae. She has served me well these past weeks. If I am to return to the manor, I shall need a new helper. My current maid there is an excellent cook, a marvellous housekeeper, but she is growing old. In such a big house, she will need assistance, at least until I can employ someone else.’

  ‘And you wish this – Phibae, did you say – to provide it?’

  ‘Only if she and her husband are willing, and if she can be released from her duties here.’

  ‘If her mistresses are favourable, I do not see why not. Barbara will insist on it.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. There is … one other thing.’

  ‘Merely one more?’ he joked.

  ‘Lady Cartwright has a boy, Your Majesty. Tacitus, her … servant of sorts. I should like very much if he could be removed from that service.’

  ‘I cannot speak for Lady Cartwright, Mrs Blakewood. Her business is her own, or her husband’s.’

  ‘This is my last petition, Your Majesty, and then I shall cease. I should like his service, also, transferred to me.’

  ‘To you?’ He frowned. ‘I thought your opinions … conflicted with such a request?’

  ‘I know I am unusual in those opinions, but I should like his service all the same. Lady Cartwright has suggested she does not require it for much longer. And I believe she could have compensation, if I may call it that, for losing him?’

  ‘What form of compensation would you suggest?’

  ‘There are enough traitors in the Tower, Your Majesty. There must be some jewels, or some such she would like?’

  ‘Indeed, Charles,’ said Lady Castlemaine, a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Take the boy and give him to Mrs Blakewood. But let me tell that harlot Cartwright myself. I should so like to see the look on her wounded f
ace.’

  She hobbled through the palace, taking in the finery of Whitehall. The scale of what she had achieved refused to sink in, and she was still anxious that the King might change his mind. Only when she had the deeds to Halescott firmly in Daniel’s name would she truly be at rest.

  Up ahead, a man stepped from a side passage to block her path. She looked up, surprised.

  ‘Mr Raff,’ she said. ‘I did not think to see you again.’

  He bowed. ‘I came to see you when you were sleeping, but that maid of yours chased me away. I wanted to beg your forgiveness for leaving you on the ship.’

  She pursed her lips, but it was hard to feel animosity. ‘It was rather awkward, yes.’

  ‘That rogue Howe said he had to leave on a matter of importance to the Duke. I told him to use another boat, but he said the Duke was on his way there and then, and that he would have to take mine.’

  ‘Was that the reason, Henry?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I was told it might be something else.’

  He flushed. ‘Well, I … perhaps … but …’

  ‘It scarcely matters, after all that has transpired. Think no more on it.’

  ‘Damn that Howe. But he did say, Mercia, you would not be abandoned. I should never have left you otherwise, believe me. And if I had known what was to come … I wish I had struck Malvern down when I had the chance.’

  ‘He fooled us all, Henry. He was in a position of trust, where he could pretend to be something he was not. But there is someone who earned him that position.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You will soon find out.’

  ‘Then I shall wait, intrigued. In the meanwhile, will you let me make up for my lack of chivalry? As you are leaving soon, perhaps a reminder of who I am, and a promise to make amends and to see you again?’

  He reached across to pull her towards him, and for a moment she allowed it. But then she pushed away.

  ‘Henry, you must learn you need to ask before you do that.’

  ‘Do I?’ He smiled. ‘Then you do not like it?’

  Her eyes roved his handsome face. ‘Some of it, Henry. I shall grant you that.’