Someone pulled at my hair, and something cold rubbed against my throat. ‘I would like to kill you, Lytle,’ Withypoll whispered in my ear. ‘First tell me where is Josselin?’
So he didn’t have him.
‘He is a hero here,’ I slurred. ‘They do as he commands.’
‘I will find him,’ hissed Withypoll. ‘Make no mistake. Then will I cut his lips from his face.’ The blade pressed against my windpipe. ‘As I will do to you one day, but Arlington insists upon seeing you first.’
My stomach cramped, and my guts churned, forcing me to vomit. I panted, sucking in cool air, retching nothing, for we hadn’t eaten properly in three days.
‘Take them,’ Withypoll commanded. ‘Tell Lord Arlington to save them for me.’
I searched again for the ghostly shape of Shrewsbury before someone punched me flush on one cheek with what felt like a hammer. I remember nothing else until we were well past Brentwood.
Chapter Twenty-Four
As unto the Spanish Dominions, they are like to be much concerned in their Leagues with their Allies and Friends.
Dowling’s forehead bore a clearly discernible boot print stamped into his skin. He lay with arms bound behind his back, staring at the same instrument as I did. In the same dingy room in the Develin Tower where this all started. Back in London.
Arlington stroked the black hair of a dead donkey’s head, impaled upon a wooden spike. ‘A friend of mine told me about this. He saw one in Spain. I had this one built especially.’ He ran a finger along the line of its cranium then pulled one of its ears out straight, smiling in grim satisfaction. ‘I have not had the pleasure of using it yet.’ He turned to me, the edges of the black plaster upon his nose gently peeling.
‘Untie him,’ he demanded.
Two soldiers stepped forward, hesitant, like they feared for their own lives. They picked at the knots hastily, muttering under their breath as they worked. Then my wrists were free.
‘Place him on the donkey,’ Arlington ordered.
The head and spike attached to a long piece of wood, running across the top of a four-legged frame. The saddle of the beast was planed sharp as a razor, stuck straight up into the air. As they lowered me onto its back, the edge of it cut into my arse. I leant forwards in an attempt to relieve the pressure.
Arlington lifted a finger. ‘Bind him again.’ The soldier jerked my hands behind my back and the wood bit deeper into my flesh.
‘The Spanish military use this in the field,’ Arlington announced, brightly. He pointed to a pile of iron balls, heaped in the corner, then fetched a pair of manacles and closed them around my ankles. The chains falling from the manacles were covered in hooks. ‘It is a most ingenious device.’
He picked up two balls, each of which had a loop embedded within it, and hooked one onto each of my feet. The manacles pulled me down even harder upon the blade of the wooden frame and the wood ground against my bone. I gritted my teeth and wriggled desperately in an attempt to relieve the pain.
‘What do you think, butcher?’ he asked Dowling. ‘Would you like to join him?’
‘Why torture him?’ Dowling barked. ‘We have no secrets from you.’
‘Every man has secrets,’ Arlington answered, calm. ‘Now I would attach more and more balls to each leg until the weight pulls the man down so hard against the edge that it cuts him in half.’
It felt already like my body was torn in two, fire shooting through my anus.
‘It seems to work.’ I heard Arlington’s voice, full of wonder. I stared upwards at the ceiling, tears filling my eyes.
‘What do you want?’ Dowling shouted.
‘I don’t know,’ Arlington replied, voice distant. ‘Perhaps nothing. Perhaps I will try another two balls.’
‘He saved your life,’ Dowling bellowed. ‘You were writhing upon the ground, barely conscious. Wharton held his sword with both fists, ready to drive it into the back of your neck. Harry saved your life.’
‘That is not how it happened.’ Arlington blinked, turning to the soldiers. ‘I was locked in deadly combat with the Earl of St Albans and was about to slay him, when this fellow intervened, plunging a butcher’s knife into the back of his head.’
I tried to hold my body still, fearing if I moved the sharp edge would cut deeper into my body. I opened my eyes and looked down to my left without moving my head. The soldiers cowered.
‘He saved your life.’ Dowling tried to stand, back bent. ‘And would do it again.’
I wished he would sit still.
Arlington stepped forward and pushed Dowling back onto the stone floor. ‘I should hope he would,’ he declared. ‘I serve my King to the best of my ability, and reward those who are similarly loyal.’
‘Then take him down,’ Dowling begged, eyes wide.
Arlington waved a hand. ‘Take him down,’ he said, much to my amazement. ‘I had no intention of torturing him,’ he explained to the soldiers as they lifted me from the wooden donkey. ‘Not yet, anyway. Throw him back onto the floor.’
Though they lifted me off the cursed contraption, the pain didn’t subside. I staggered back to my place with legs bowed. Dowling breathed low and shallow.
Arlington leant backwards against the donkey, tossing a heavy ball from one hand to the other. ‘What happened in Shyam?’
‘James Josselin sought refuge,’ I answered quickly, determined not to end up back on the device. ‘He was apprehended by a man named Thomas Elks who hid him away with the intention of killing him. We found him.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘If Withypoll doesn’t have him, then he is on his way back to London.’
‘Back to London?’ Arlington grimaced. ‘He runs away. Now you say he plans to run back?’
‘He wants to talk to you,’ I replied. ‘He asked us to arrange a meeting with you. He says he has something of yours, something you may not know he owns.’
‘The traitor has a secret.’ Arlington lifted his arms in an attempt at humour. But his brow furrowed. ‘What does he have of mine?’
‘He said a letter,’ I replied, feeling the sweat upon my palms. ‘Though he wouldn’t say what was in it.’
Arlington pursed his lips strangely and stared so hard his eyelids disappeared. He turned to face one corner of the dark and dingy turret, biting at the fingers of one hand, muttering. Then he tore at his wig and threw it on the floor. He stood over it, red-faced, breathing deep. The two soldiers looked at each other and then the door.
He swivelled on one heel and screamed. ‘Go!’
They hurried out the room, closing the door carefully behind. I listened to their footsteps dance down the stone staircase.
‘I have had enough!’ Arlington yelled, face red and moist against the whiteness of his shaven head. ‘I asked you to go to Shyam and fetch Josselin. Yet instead you take it upon yourself to arrange a meeting!’
He stood bent, head craned forward, seeking some response. It seemed prudent to remain quiet.
‘What were you doing sneaking about Colchester, hiding in an empty house – in the Dutch Quarter?’ Saliva flew in all directions.
‘I saw Shrewsbury there, talking to some Dutchmen,’ I explained. ‘Before we went to Shyam.’
Arlington’s face turned a shade of deep purple. ‘What?’
‘The Earl of Shrewsbury,’ I said, praying his twitching fingers would not alight upon a knife.
Arlington’s face twisted into a mask of livid incomprehension. ‘You saw the Earl of Shrewsbury in the Dutch Quarter at Colchester,’ he choked. ‘The Earl of Shrewsbury in England.’ He looked to Dowling, who bowed his head.
‘I saw him,’ I said. ‘Before we went to Shyam. In the same house we were arrested by Withypoll. We went to see if he was still there, for it seemed likely there might be some connection. The Earl of Shrewsbury fled to Holland. So it seemed to us …’ Dowling looked like he would weep. ‘It seemed to me …’
Arlington’s face became pink again, as the blood drained back from his cheek
s. ‘You told Withypoll this?’
‘I told him the same night,’ I replied. ‘Before we left for Shyam, but I don’t think he believed me.’
‘I am not surprised,’ Arlington exclaimed, voice weak. ‘The Earl of Shrewsbury was killed two months ago. Killed by agents of De Witt, who suspected he conspired with the House of Orange. They did not mean to kill him, they said, though I don’t know how you kill a man by accident. They were keen for us to know how apologetic they were.’
I shook my head firmly. ‘I know the Earl of Shrewsbury well.’
‘You saw a dead man.’
‘Did you see his body?’ I demanded, stubborn.
Arlington sighed, looking to the ceiling. ‘No, I did not see his body. Why should I want to see the old fool’s dead body? He stank when he was alive; God knows what state he would be in if they sent his rotten corpse back to England.’
‘Then you don’t know he is dead.’
‘You doubt my intelligence?’ Arlington glared, cheeks glowing again.
‘Perhaps I was mistaken,’ I replied, though I knew I was not.
‘Ah!’ Arlington exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and turning away. ‘Withypoll would like to cut off your balls,’ he cried. ‘And I would like to watch.’
‘Josselin was imprisoned,’ I said. ‘Elks locked him up and we found him.’ I stopped. Perhaps I should not reveal how we saved Josselin’s life. It occurred to me most of our troubles could be traced back to saving people’s lives.
‘You found him, released him, then sat back and watched him go,’ Arlington whispered. ‘Is that what you are telling me?’
‘He is a hero in Shyam,’ I replied. ‘Had we tried to arrest him we would have been lynched. Instead we thought to escape the village and seek out Withypoll’s assistance. But Josselin locked us in a cage from which we escaped. We followed him to Colchester, close behind. We were looking for him in the Dutch Quarter.’
Arlington trembled with anger. I wished he would pull back his face from mine, for his breath was rank, and my face was wet.
He clenched his fist in front of my eyes. ‘Why? They are all weavers and wool merchants.’ He turned his back and retreated to the corner of the room to retrieve his wig. He dusted it against the leg of his breeches and pulled it back over his head.
‘Since we are alone, gentlemen,’ he spoke the last word as if to children. ‘I will concede that you did indeed save my life in St Albans.’ He adjusted the hairpiece carefully. ‘Which is of no value to you at all, since I cannot have it known that I allowed myself to be rescued by a butcher and a clerk. So forget it happened.’ He smacked his hands together to be rid of the dirt. ‘It’s just another reason to be rid of you.’
Which did not seem fair.
‘I sent you to Shyam to do a job and you failed.’ He waved a hand at the donkey. ‘Which is yet another reason to be rid of you. Withypoll would do me the honour without needing to be persuaded.’ He drew a short blade from his jacket. ‘Nonetheless I will give you one last opportunity.’ He sliced at the ropes binding my wrists. ‘Not because I am a generous man, nor a kind-hearted man, for we all know I am none of those things.’ He slipped the knife back into the folds of his coat and stood in front of us, hands on hips.
‘Josselin must be apprehended,’ he said, quietly. ‘He is a traitor, and is therefore dangerous. You know what he looks like and have been exposed to him already.’ He turned back to the dark corner, and returned with a twisted iron contraption. ‘I don’t want others talking to him, so I must trust in you.’
He held the tool up in the air. It was like a pair of tongs with the edges turned in and sharpened, thin metal hooks upon their extremities.
‘If he is in London then you must find him,’ he said, calm. ‘How were you to arrange this meeting?’
‘We were to leave message for him at the Mermaid,’ I lied.
‘Then leave your message, arrange the rendezvous, and tell me where to find him.’ He thrust the tongs into my face. ‘If you fail again then it is not only you who will suffer.’ He looked at Dowling. ‘You have a wife.’ Then turned his attention to me. ‘You do not, but I hear you are fond of your housemaid. You took her away with you to escape the plague, did you not?’
I nodded, dumb, for I recognised the instrument he brandished. It was an ancient breast ripper, a tool used by the inquisitor in days gone by, to shred a woman’s breasts.
‘Do you understand now, gentlemen, how serious is your mission?’ he asked, lowering the device.
‘There is no need …’ Dowling said, weak.
I looked at the donkey and imagined Dowling and I placing Arlington upon its blade.
‘I see what you are thinking, Lytle,’ Arlington leered. ‘I would think the same if I were in your shoes. But if I am found dead, then you will be held culpable. You and your families will be punished.’
He tossed the cruel instrument into the corner. He would never use it himself. He would send apprentices to commit the deed with their own blunt devices. It was a common enough occurrence and would ensure the deed could never be traced to him.
‘Did Josselin tell you he worked with Clarendon?’ Arlington asked matter-of-factly.
We both nodded quickly.
Arlington rubbed his nose. ‘I cannot think why he would return were it not to seek help from the good Earl. I must know the moment he attempts to make contact, for it would be convenient to be able to arrest him in the presence of the Earl. In the Earl’s private closet if necessary.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘But the timing must be perfect. If I send men too early he will never arrive, and Clarendon will be most offended. If I send men too late, then Josselin will be gone.’ He turned to point at both of us, one with each hand. ‘From tonight you will stand watch at Clarendon’s residence on Piccadilly. Watch where he goes and follow. Josselin may attempt to contact him. If you see Josselin, then one of you will inform me personally. Is that clear?’
‘Aye,’ we replied in unison.
My heart ached, and any suspicion I still harboured that this devil was a man, was assuaged. ‘What about the meeting?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Arlington spat. He blew out his cheeks and took a deep breath. ‘It has been an entertaining evening,’ he proclaimed, taking up a position next to one of the narrow windows, there to watch the red sun dying. ‘For which I doth sincerely thank you. Now be gone.’
I couldn’t believe we were free to go. Time to see Jane.
Chapter Twenty-Five
There will therefore be expected the clearest of our endeavours to satisfie the Curious in their more than moderate expectancies.
I knocked loudly before stepping back to the middle of the street. When she opened the door I spotted the flash of delight upon her face before she hid it behind a scowl.
‘I’m back,’ I said.
‘So you are.’ She looked up and down Bread Street. ‘Why are you standing over there?’
‘I’ve come from Colchester,’ I whispered hoarse, so none else might hear.
Her belly was definitely rounder than I remembered, but I had not the expertise to tell if it was sign of a child, else the consequence of eating too much pudding. She always ate more when I was away. She said my presence affected her appetite. The smell of incense drifted out from inside the house.
She scanned my filthy clothes from foot to head with sharp green eyes. ‘You’ve been to Essex and now you’re returned?’ she asked, eyes narrowed. ‘What be that black mark?’ she pointed at my forehead.
‘A bruise,’ I replied.
‘A big bruise,’ she said, suspicious. ‘And what is that in your pocket? A pipe?’
I dug out the leaves and held them up in the air. ‘To protect me from plague.’
She leant forward, squinting. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘Culpepper gave them to me. The apothecary.’
She peered. ‘You smoked that in your pipe?’
I nodded.
‘Looks like seer sage to me.’ She st
ood straight, arms folded. ‘Have you been seeing things?’
‘What sort of things?’
She watched me close. ‘You have, haven’t you? Bright lights? Shimmering shapes?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, slowly. I looked down at the innocent looking pile of dry foliage in my palm.
She smiled, and I saw the end of her tongue. ‘You said you knew about plants.’
Enough. I tucked the leaves back into my pocket. ‘I came to see how you are.’ She opened her mouth to say something, but I dared to interrupt. ‘Are you with child?’
Her arms fell to her sides, all thought of plague forgot. ‘You noticed that yourself?’
‘Aye,’ I replied. ‘Is it a child?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, eyes wet.
A tennis ball appeared from nowhere and stuck in my throat. I wanted to take her in my arms, but dared not approach closer. ‘I am glad,’ I said, fighting back the tears.
‘Glad?’ she exclaimed, lines furrowing her brow. ‘What are you glad about? You have no job and spend every day in the Mermaid.’
‘I have decided to become an apothecary,’ I replied. ‘That’s why I’ve been seeing Culpepper. He’s going to sell me his shop. I will be a good father.’
She gaped in most sarcastic fashion, ducking her head and staring from beneath her brow. ‘You will share with him your worldly wisdom, no doubt,’ she blustered, trying to hide the wetness of her cheeks. ‘Teach him a trade and set a fine example of outstanding moral behaviour.’
‘It might be a girl,’ I muttered.
‘Boy or girl.’ She wiped her face and lifted her chin. ‘Do you plan to marry me?’
‘I …’ It seemed a silly question. I shrugged. ‘Would you want to marry me?’
‘How can you ask?’ she sobbed, wringing her apron between her hands, staring at me with a wistful expression I had ne’er seen before.
I wasn’t sure if she meant yes or no, but her gaze was so tender I could only assume she quite liked the idea. Now seemed like the time to embrace, but fear I might carry the Pest prevented it.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I confessed.
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