The King's Return: (Thomas Hill 3) (Thomas Hill Novels)

by Andrew Swanston

  Around the corner, the alley became so narrow that they had to walk one behind the other. Thomas kept within touching distance of Josiah. It was impossible to tell where this alley led, if it led anywhere. It might as easily come to a dead end and they would be forced to retrace their steps. Just as Thomas thought that that was exactly what they would have to do, they found themselves in a tiny yard surrounded by old wooden houses. He looked around. It was lighter than the alley and he could see that each house had a low door and two narrow windows. It was a yard that might have been built two hundred years earlier and have been gradually cut off by new buildings until the only way in was through the alley off Drury Lane.

  A curtain moved and a young face peered out at them. Then another face and another. Thomas looked at Josiah for guidance. ‘Just stay still, sir. Some of them know me and they’ll see we’ve no weapons.’ Anyone who had seen Josiah use his stick would certainly count it as a weapon, but Thomas nevertheless did as he was told.

  The five minutes they waited seemed to Thomas like twenty. He jumped when a squeaky door opened and three children emerged into the yard. Two were boys, the other a girl. None of them was more than six years old and all three were filthy. They came up to the strangers, as they must have been told to, and held out their hands. Thomas passed three coins to Josiah, who handed them over.

  ‘We’re looking for our friend,’ he said, ‘a short, fat man. We’ve got an important message for ’im. ’Ave you seen ’im?’

  Like the giant, none of the children spoke. The two boys stood and stared at them while the girl went back inside the house. Thomas inspected them. They were feral creatures, half covered by a few rags, their eyes narrow and their faces thin. Their arms and legs were like sticks. Thomas wondered how many more like them spent their lives in this place. Miserable, short lives they would be. Few would see twenty.

  The girl reappeared and beckoned them to come in. The two boys stayed in the yard. Lookouts, probably, thought Thomas, in case we’ve brought reinforcements. They ducked through the door and into the house. Inside, a single tallow candle stood on a wooden box in the middle of a small, square room. There was another door opposite them. A man sat in one corner, out of the light of the candle, a long clay pipe in his hand. They could not see his face.

  ‘Well, well,’ said a rough voice, ‘Josiah Mottershead. ’Aven’t seen ’im in a while. And ’oo’s this with ’im? Not the law, I ’ope.’

  ‘’Allo, Finn. This ’ere’s my cousin Tom. Doesn’t speak much.’

  ‘Very convenient. And what brings you ’ere? We don’t get a lot o’ visitors.’ The gruff voice turned into a foul cough. ‘Lookin’ for someone, are you?’

  ‘A friend. Short and fat. Got a message for ’im.’

  ‘’As your friend got a name?’

  ‘Not one ’e’d ’ave told you.’

  ‘What’s ’e done, your friend?’

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care. Just got a message for ’im.’

  ‘What sort o’ message would bring you and ’im ’ere?’ he croaked, pointing his pipe at Thomas.

  ‘Can’t tell you that, Finn. Private.’

  Finn sat in his corner, saying nothing. Surrounded by a cloud of tobacco smoke, he was barely visible even from a few feet. Thomas sensed that he was assessing them. Not what their real business was – if he’d been concerned about that, they’d be dead by now – but about their worth. If he knew where Squire was, he’d be working out how much he could get for telling them and how he could get it.

  ‘If I were able to ’elp you,’ he said eventually, ‘I’d need payin’. Five guineas.’ It was a lot. A man could buy a good horse for five guineas. But Finn must have decided that Josiah and his cousin had that much in their pockets and would be willing to part with it. And he was right. Thomas had brought more than a few shillings.

  ‘Five guineas it is, Finn,’ agreed Josiah, ‘as long as you lead us to the right man and say no more about it.’

  ‘’E’s your man, all right. The child’ll take you. Three guineas now and give ’er the other two when you’re there. It’s not far.’

  ‘Done.’

  Thomas fished three guineas out of his purse and put them where Finn could see them beside the candle.

  Finn laughed. ‘May not talk much, your cousin, but ’e’s quick with ’is money. I don’t know what your business is, Josiah, and I don’t much care. Just do it and be gone. We don’t want the trained men to come calling.’ He called for the girl. ‘Take ’em to the inn, and show ’em the way out. I don’t want ’em coming back ’ere.’

  And I am not all that keen to come back here, thought Thomas. An inn, though? Not what he expected.

  The girl led them through the other door, into a foul kitchen which reeked of rotten food and outside into another dark alley. They followed her along it to a low door which she pushed open. Yet another alley led directly ahead of them. About ten yards up it, the girl stopped and pointed to a hole in the wall.

  ‘’Ere?’ asked Josiah. The girl nodded and held out her hand. Thomas took out two more guineas and gave them to her. She pointed down the alley and said, ‘Out.’ Then she ran back the way they had come. Five guineas to be shown a hole in a wall in a mean alley by a filthy child. For all they knew, the hole led to a sewer.

  ‘Do you think he’s in there?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘’E will be. Finn knows we’d be back if ’e weren’t. ’E wouldn’t want that.’

  ‘It doesn’t look much like an inn.’

  Josiah laughed. ‘It’s not an inn, sir. That’s just a word they use for a place where a man can ’ide. For a shilling or two a day, ’e’s safe from the law. There’s a number of inns around ’ere.’

  ‘Not safe from us, though.’

  ‘No, sir. But we wouldn’t ’ave got this far if I ’adn’t been recognized, or if we’d been short of five guineas. Are you ready?’

  ‘Ready, Josiah. Let’s find the man and be gone.’

  Josiah climbed through the hole first. It opened into a space about the size of the Carringtons’ sitting room, with three doors off it. An old woman sat on a stool beside one of the doors. Her face had been ravaged by pox, she was almost bald and she smelt like a dung heap. Thomas only just stopped himself from pulling out his handkerchief again. When she saw them, the woman pointed to the door on her right.

  News did travel fast. How did she know who they were and what they wanted? Alleys and passages and small children, Thomas supposed. Josiah nodded to the woman, who heaved herself off her stool and scrambled through the hole, leaving them to be about their business.

  The door was unlocked. Josiah turned the handle, opened it and stepped inside. Thomas was a pace behind him. The room was bare but for a heap of blankets in one corner. Under the blankets a body was snoring. Thomas walked over and kicked it. There was a grunt of surprise and a head poked itself out of the heap. Thomas started. It was close shaven, hollow-cheeked and dirty. It was not the head he was expecting. He looked again. Yes, it was. Lemuel Squire might have lost his wig and a stone in weight, but he was still Lemuel Squire.

  ‘Good morning, Lemuel. We appear to have woken you. We’ve come to escort you to more comfortable quarters. Kindly stir yourself and we’ll be away.’

  Squire peered at him through sleep-encrusted eyes. ‘The devil’s whores, how did you find me here?’

  ‘Josiah is adept at such matters. It was not difficult.’ A lie, but he could not resist it. If Squire had thought he was safe, all the better to rub his nose in the dirt.

  Squire pushed himself up and sat on the blankets. ‘I underestimated you, Thomas. I thought you were just a clever cryptographer. Now I see there’s more to you.’ He was recovering his wits.

  ‘Never mind that. Joseph Williamson is waiting for you. Get up.’

  Squire shrugged and made as if to rise. His hand emerged from under the blankets. It was holding a cocked flintlock pistol. ‘It is loaded,’ he said quietly, pointing it at Thomas. ‘Step back
against the wall, both of you, and sit on the floor, or I will shoot.’ Thomas looked him in the eye. He meant it. He backed away and did as he was ordered. Josiah put down his stick and sat beside him.

  ‘That’s better.’ The pistol had never wavered from Thomas’s face. Squire’s voice was steady. ‘Now, it is true that I have only one pistol and one shot. If I shoot Mottershead, Thomas will pick up the stick and attack me and only one of us will leave this room. On the other hand, if I shoot Thomas, Mottershead will certainly beat me into a bloody mess. He will, however, have to explain Thomas’s death to Williamson. Which is it to be?’

  ‘There is a third way,’ said Thomas. ‘You could hand me the pistol and come with us. Joseph has spared Stoner the gallows and he will do the same for you.’

  Squire scoffed. ‘Even if I believed you, why would he spare me? I’ve deceived him for more than a year, plotted against him and his like and caused him much grief and embarrassment. I doubt if the king is very pleased with him and he’d be even less pleased if I were allowed to live. When I leave here, it will be to go to a place where I cannot be reached.’

  Despite himself, Thomas was intrigued. Could this really be the same bluff Squire who dressed like a court jester, ate and drank like a trencherman and had treated him like a brother? ‘Why, Lemuel? Why the treachery and deceit?’

  A shadow passed over Squire’s face. ‘Deceit, certainly. As you know, I was an actor until the theatres were closed – not one of the Lord Protector’s better ideas. My Falstaff was much admired. But treachery? That I deny.’

  ‘How can you deny it? You betrayed secrets to our enemies and put the country in danger.’

  ‘Your enemies, Thomas, not mine. That is the nub of the matter. As a republican, I am loyal to the principles of republicanism and have done what I could to help the cause. I do not wish to be ruled by a king or by any man who holds his position simply due to an accident of birth. By the same token, I did not choose to be born an Englishman, so why should I owe my loyalty to England? It is principles of equality I have espoused, not geography. A deceiver, yes, a traitor, no.’

  ‘You are a Leveller. I should never have guessed it.’

  ‘Our leader, John Lilburne, preferred the word “agitator”. If wanting a Parliament and judiciary free of corruption and believing in religious toleration makes me an agitator, then I plead guilty to the charge. That there are now so few of us does not diminish the strength of my beliefs. I choose to fight for them in the best way I can – by using my skills as an actor. The profession is home to many of my fellow agitators.’

  It was no surprise. Squire had falsely claimed to carry messages for the king, but Lilburne was reputed to have had just as many supporters among the companies of travelling players. And actors were deceivers. Squire would have had no difficulty pretending to be one thing while actually being another. Some of the Levellers would still be active. But whatever the merits of their principles they could not excuse murder. ‘How do you justify the murders of four men and the abduction of an innocent woman?’

  ‘Pragmatism and expediency – necessary companions to principle and creed, if the struggle is to be won. Just as an alliance with our friends in France and Holland is necessary.’

  ‘What was expedient about the abduction of Madeleine Stewart?’

  ‘We thought she would tell us what you knew. Alas, she became ill and would not have survived more vigorous interrogation.’ Squire stared at the two of them, his pistol aimed at a point halfway between their heads.

  ‘We know that Stoner is Argentum. Are you Aurum?’

  Again Squire scoffed. ‘If you know about Stoner, you know about me. I do hope you’ve caught the bastard. Not a principle in his body. Money, profit, wealth – Stoner knows nothing else.’

  ‘Was Morland involved?’

  ‘Good God, no. Morland is not as clever as he thinks. He made a convenient scapegoat. You would be surprised how easy it has been to intercept and read correspondence from Williamson’s agents without his knowing.’

  ‘You must have had help.’

  ‘Possibly.’

  Thomas tried a long shot. ‘Roger Willow?’

  A fleeting look of surprise might, just might, have crossed Squire’s face. ‘Roger’s Shylock was as good a performance as I have seen.’ So Willow too had been an actor. How unexpected.

  Throughout the exchange, Josiah had said nothing and barely moved. His eyes had never left Squire and Thomas sensed that he was waiting for the moment to attack. With a loaded pistol in Squire’s hand, that would be suicidal. He put a hand on Josiah’s arm to restrain him. ‘Then would you care to tell us about a disfigured Dutchman or the Alchemist?’

  ‘Other than that neither is in England, no. Enough questions. I have a decision to make. We will sit here while I consider the matter.’ A minute passed, and another, and the pistol moved to Thomas’s head. He prepared himself for the bullet. If Squire shot him, at least he would go to the gallows. Josiah would make sure of it. Or would he use the bullet on Josiah, leaving only Thomas between himself and escape? He might. Thomas wriggled forwards and sideways on his backside until he was in front of Josiah.

  ‘How brave, Thomas,’ said Squire quietly, ‘but pointless, of course.’ He paused and ran his free hand over his shaven head. ‘It hasn’t always been easy, you know, playing the role of loyal eccentric. Skilled though I am, even the finest actor can tire of a part. And now that there are so few of us left in England and Charles Stuart is on the throne, I should have joined my friends in Amsterdam. Alas, loyalty to the cause has kept me here in the hope of being some use. As, I like to think, I have been.’ He laughed. ‘Actually it has been rather a relief to be in here and not to have to wear ridiculous clothes or stuff myself with food and drink. But I can’t stay here for ever. I must move on.’

  ‘I will speak for you if you hand me the pistol and allow us to escort you away from here.’

  Squire grunted. ‘Even if I thought there was a slender hope of my being spared the gallows, we would never leave here alive. Finn and his people would kill all of us.’

  ‘They might not. Josiah would speak to Finn, wouldn’t you, Josiah?’

  ‘I would, sir.’ Thomas could hear the doubt in his voice.

  ‘That would do no good,’ said Squire. ‘Now move over to the corner by the door, Thomas. I have made a decision and I would not want you to be splattered with blood and brains.’ Thomas ignored him. ‘Do move away, Thomas.’

  ‘I find myself unable to oblige, Lemuel,’ replied Thomas. ‘My backside seems to be stuck to the floor.’

  ‘Better do as ’e says, sir,’ muttered Josiah. ‘If ’e shoots me, go for ’is throat or ’is eyes. Then smash ’is ’ead against the wall. That should do for ’im.’

  ‘Very well, Thomas, if you are determined not to move, on your head be it,’ said Squire. ‘Farewell. The play is over.’ Thomas shut his eyes and waited for the bullet. The crack of the shot, when it came, reverberated around the room. For an instant Thomas was stunned. When he opened his eyes, Squire was slumped on the blankets. His finger was still on the trigger and the barrel was in his mouth.

  Josiah was the first to his feet. ‘Time we were gone, sir,’ he said. ‘The shot will ’ave been heard. They’ll be coming to investigate.’

  He helped Thomas up and out of the room. They climbed through the hole and turned left down the alley in the direction the girl had pointed. ‘’Urry, sir,’ he urged, breaking into a trot. ‘I can ’ear them already.’ So could Thomas. The sounds of running feet and urgent voices were all around them. There must be a passage alongside them and others nearby. If they did not reach a way out before their pursuers they would be trapped.

  They came to a flight of stone steps leading downwards. Josiah took them two at a time and waited for Thomas at the bottom. ‘Make haste, sir. No time to lose.’

  Hearing voices close behind, Thomas was down the steps and beside Josiah in a trice. On they went along the alley, still with no idea wh
ere they were heading. Without warning a dark figure stepped out in front of Josiah, a long knife in his hand. Barely breaking his stride, Josiah broke the man’s arm with his stick, knocked him to the ground and stepped over him.

  He looked back at Thomas and shouted a warning. ‘Behind you, sir!’ Thomas turned. Another man, this one with a short-handled axe, had appeared from nowhere. The man approached cautiously, his axe raised to strike. Thomas kept his eyes fixed on the man’s arm. The moment he saw it move, he stepped outside the blow, grasped the man’s wrist in his left hand and thrust the knuckles of his right hand into his throat. With a satisfying gurgle, the man collapsed on to the ground. Thomas turned back to Josiah and rubbed his knuckles. ‘Years of practice, Josiah.’

  They started running again, following the curve of the alley. Then they stopped. A brick wall blocked their way. They were trapped. Josiah was panting heavily. ‘There must be a way out, sir. There’s always a way out.’

  Thomas looked about. ‘There. On your right, Josiah. See it?’

  ‘Got it.’ There was a wooden door low down on the wall, well disguised and just big enough for a man to crawl through. There was a key in the lock. Josiah turned it and kicked the door open. ‘On you go, sir.’

  Thomas ducked through the opening and found himself in a vertical shaft with a wooden ladder nailed to it. Light was filtering down from the top of the shaft. He started to climb towards it, expecting Josiah to follow. But after no more than four rungs, there was a scuffle behind him. A hand grasped his ankle and pulled it hard. Taken by surprise, he let go his hold on the ladder, slid down and landed in a heap at the bottom. Again his ankle was grasped and he was dragged back through the low door. He was kicked in the ribs and ordered by a rough voice to stand up. When he did so, he saw Josiah held by his arms by two men, while a third held a knife to his throat. Josiah’s stick lay on the ground.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ croaked Josiah. ‘I was too slow.’

  Pinned by their elbows, they were marched painfully along the alley, up the steps and back to the ‘inn’, where they were thrown into the room in which they had found Lemuel Squire. The door was slammed and the key turned in the lock.