On the other side of the courtyard, a tall soldier was lounging against the wall, with a woman hanging on to his arm. As Thomas approached, he could see that she was the sort of woman who might spend a good deal of time hanging on to men’s arms. Her cheeks were powdered and her lips painted the colour of a radish. The soldier was the loud dice-player Thomas had seen in the Crown the previous evening. Still dressed in clothes more suited to a ball than a battlefield, he was not difficult to recognize. When he noticed Thomas, he pushed the woman away and pointed a finger at him. ‘You there, who are you and what are you doing here?’ It was the same haughty voice, loud and demanding. Thomas stopped and looked at the man. He was perhaps six feet tall, his fair hair long and curled and his dark eyes hooded. A handsome man, despite his manners.
‘My name is Thomas Hill and I am here on private business. And who, may I ask, are you?’
‘I thought as much. Not that it’s any concern of yours, Hill, but I am Captain Francis Fayne of Colonel Thomas Pinchbeck’s Regiment of Foot. The officer whose room you have stolen. And I wish to have it back. Immediately.’
‘I fear that will not be possible.’
Fayne stepped forward and stood in Thomas’s path. ‘Do you now? Is that what you fear? Well, you’ve got something else to fear now, Hill. Me. I do not take kindly to being thrown out of my room on the orders of Tobias Rush, and I intend to have it back.’
Thomas took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. ‘I daresay you shall have it back, captain, as soon as my business in Oxford is completed.’
‘And what business is that? You don’t look much like a fighting man.’
‘I am not. I’m a bookseller.’
Fayne guffawed. ‘A bookseller? Since when did the king’s army need booksellers?’ He peered at Thomas. ‘Or are you one of her majesty’s household? She likes puppies.’
Thomas ignored the question and made to continue on his way. The captain, however, had not finished. ‘I don’t like having to share a room with a snoring oaf, Hill. It’s inconvenient.’ He put his arm round the woman and squeezed her backside hard enough to make her squeal. ‘Isn’t it, my lovely? So get out, man, or I’ll put you out.’
Thomas stepped to the side, bowed politely and walked on. ‘Good day, Captain Fayne. Good day, madam.’
Good God, Thomas, he thought to himself as he climbed the stairs to Abraham’s room, why do you persist in discomposing these men? Captain Brooke and his dragoons, Pym’s thieves and now Francis Fayne? Do try and take more care. By nature or by training, soldiers are soldiers. Keep away from them. He had never held a high opinion of tall, good-looking, fair-haired men, and Fayne had done nothing to change his mind.
Abraham was dressed and ready when Thomas knocked on the door. To attend the king, he wore a long black jacket and carried a broad black hat in his hand. ‘Take this,’ he said, holding out another hat, ‘I’m quite sure you don’t have one.’
Thomas put it on and took the old man’s arm. ‘It’s no distance to Christ Church. We’ll walk slowly. I want to ask you something.’ Thomas led Abraham through a side gate to avoid the risk of another confrontation with Captain Fayne, and, once outside the college, told him about the attempted robbery of Jane Romilly. ‘No one even tried to arrest the boy, never mind help the lady. I couldn’t believe it.’
‘Thomas,’ replied Abraham quietly, ‘you and I serve the king, but we must accept that feelings in the town are running high. Oxford has always favoured Parliament, and the townspeople have good reason to resent the presence of the court and the army. They say there are ten thousand men and women in the colleges and the town. Some are even billeted in almshouses. Jesus is full of soldiers, All Souls is an arsenal and Brasenose a food store. We can’t walk in the meadows for artillery pieces. Every day there’s pillaging and theft. And not just by the men. The women are worse, especially the Irish and the Welsh, whom no one understands when they speak that impossible language of theirs. Do you know who your lady was?’
‘Jane Romilly, lady-in-waiting to the queen.’
‘I have met Lady Romilly. Sir Edward died at Edgehill.’
‘Her husband?’
Abraham nodded.
‘A widow, then.’
‘Yes, and by her dress she would have been marked as a member of the royal household. That’s why she went unhelped. Except by you.’
At Christ Church, they were admitted by the guards, escorted around the Great Quadrangle where lines of soldiers were at their drills, and shown to a chamber near the Great Hall, where the king had established his parliament. In defiance of the elected parliament in London, the king called it his ‘parliament’, although, in truth, it was more of a royal court, with advisers and courtiers ready to do the royal bidding. Abraham sat. Thomas stood nervously, trying to remember what Montaigne would have advised. After a couple of false starts, he had it. Au plus eslevé throne du monde, si ne sommes assis que sus nostre cul; upon the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, upon our arse. The chamber door opened and a tall man, dressed, like Abraham, entirely in black, entered. He looked about forty and carried a silver-topped cane.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said affably. ‘Master Fletcher, the king is expecting you. And,’ turning to Thomas, ‘you must be Master Hill. Welcome. I am Tobias Rush, adviser to his majesty.’
‘Master Rush.’ Thomas offered a small bow. So this was Rush. Abraham said nothing.
‘If you would follow me, gentlemen. His majesty is suffering a little this morning. His legs often trouble him. Your audience will perforce be brief.’
They followed Tobias Rush into the hall, where the king was seated at the far end. Oddly, Thomas had never before been inside the Great Hall of Christ Church, despite its reputation. He glanced up at the high oak beams and around at the magnificent panelling and tall windows. It was foolish of him not to have visited the hall while he had the chance. It was a room very much fit for a king. Abraham held Thomas’s arm. At Rush’s signal, they bowed low and walked slowly up the length of the room. The king, surrounded by courtiers, watched impassively. Thomas could see that he was a small man, slight of build, with a narrow face and a short pointed beard. His dark eyes showed nothing. He did not rise as they approached.
‘Your majesty,’ said their escort, ‘may I present Master Thomas Hill, with Master Fletcher, whom you know?’
The king held out a limp hand. Not knowing quite what to do with it, Thomas took it very lightly in his fingers, and bowed again. Abraham followed suit.
‘Master Hill,’ said the king in a gentle Scottish voice, ‘we are pleased that you have arrived safely. Your skills come highly recommended, and we have grave need of them. Once Master Fletcher has acquainted you with our methods, we shall depend upon you to render our orders and reports entirely secure, and to reveal the enemy’s secrets when you have the opportunity to do so. Have you anything to ask me?’ Thomas had not. ‘Master Rush will see to your needs. Ask him for whatever you require to carry out your loyal duties.’
‘I shall, your majesty.’
‘Good. Then lose no time. England’s enemies must be defeated.’
Tobias Rush nodded to Thomas, signalling the end of the audience. The three men took two steps backwards, Abraham holding on tightly, bowed, then turned and left the hall.
Outside, Rush escorted them to the college entrance. ‘His majesty has instructed me to provide you with whatever you need, Master Hill. Is your room adequate? Food, wine, company, you have but to ask.’
‘Thank you, sir. I shall be sure to do so.’ Thomas wondered if he should mention Captain Fayne.
‘Excellent. We’re much relieved that you’re here. I never trusted Erasmus Pole,’ said Rush, ‘and told the king so more than once. I wasn’t surprised that his body was found in that vile lane. He was a man of odd habits.’
Thomas glanced at Abraham, who was silent. At the gate, Rush shook their hands and watched them turn towards Pembroke. As they did so, two riders, yelling at t
hem to get out of the way, swept past and into the college. Both wore pale blue hats with long feathers, and dark blue coats festooned with ribbons and lace.
‘Sounds like the royal princes,’ said Abraham, drily. ‘Rupert and Maurice. Probably boasting about their exploits in Bristol. If they aren’t drunk, they soon will be. The king should send them back where they came from.’
‘Who were all those people around the king, Abraham?’ asked Thomas.
‘I couldn’t see them, but the king has a full court. The Master of the Revels was probably there, and William Dobson, the court painter. He’s much in demand, I hear. Unspeakably vain, some young men these days. Care to have your portrait painted, Thomas? Rush could arrange it.’
‘I think not, thank you. Although it sounds as if Tobias Rush could arrange anything. What do you know of him?’
‘Rush is not to my taste, but the king relies on him,’ replied Abraham as they entered Pembroke. ‘He organizes the king’s affairs and runs his household. He’s skilled at playing on the king’s insecurity. He’s a clever man, and an ambitious one. Treat him with caution, Thomas.’
‘I certainly shall. Now, when shall we start work?’
‘This morning. I’ll have food and wine sent to my rooms. Silas will escort me there. Come in an hour.’
An hour later they were seated at Abraham’s table, a pile of papers before them. ‘Since the king came to Oxford,’ the old man began, ‘we’ve been using substitution ciphers devised and developed by Erasmus. The ciphers are based on an eight-letter keyword, changed on the first day of each month. In the final week of the month, Erasmus sent out the first four letters of the new keyword, encoded according to the current keyword and hidden in the text of the message. Each recipient then sent back four more letters, also encoded and hidden, to make up the full keyword.’
‘So each recipient has a unique keyword, which lasts for a month?’
‘That is right. It means that we have to know from whom each message has come, but that is easily dealt with. Each message carries the encrypted name of the sender, again hidden in the text. Each name has its own codeword. If one forgets to include his name, we simply use all the current keywords until we find the right one for the text.’
‘There are weaknesses in this, Abraham, as you know. The messages carrying either half of the new keyword might not arrive, and a list of all current keywords and codewords must have been kept somewhere.’
‘Indeed they were. Inside Erasmus’s head. He never wrote them down. As to the other point, we’ve had no serious difficulties. Process of elimination and a bit of guesswork have sufficed.’
‘How many keywords are there?’
‘Currently, twenty.’
Thomas looked thoughtful. Twenty names with fixed codes, and twenty different keywords each month. Not difficult. Abraham passed Thomas the top sheet of paper.
‘This is an encrypted message, received three months ago. If you were the enemy, how long would it take you to decrypt it?’
Thomas looked at it. It was six lines long, each line consisting of about fifty seemingly random letters. ‘This is about the right length for a military report, rather than a battlefield order. It looks like a substitution cipher, probably with a keyword. A simple shift would be too easy, and a cipher alphabet would be written down somewhere, which would make it vulnerable to capture. So I’d assume a keyword. With only one encrypted text to work with, perhaps a morning.’
‘That’s what I thought. Not secure from the attentions of a good cryptographer.’ Abraham passed over another sheet. ‘What about this one?’
Again, Thomas studied the sheet for several minutes. ‘This message is shorter. It could be a military order. I guess that there are some coded words. Not knowing the context, I’d go about it as with the first message – frequencies and letter relationships – but if there are codes it would take longer.’
Abraham smiled. ‘Your instincts are as good as ever, Thomas. Now what about this one?’
Immediately Thomas said, ‘This is alpha-numeric.’ He imagined lines running through each number. ‘I think some of the numbers are nulls because there’s a pattern to them, but the others could be codes.’
‘Excellent. Now take these and practise your skills on them. Note that they may not all be what they seem.’ Abraham passed over the remaining papers. ‘Some of these are ours, others were intercepted. All incoming and outgoing messages will now be passed through me to you, for encryption and decryption. Next week you will need to send out the first half of a new keyword. Here is a list of all recipients. Please commit them to memory and destroy the list.’
‘And if I don’t, sir? Will I be confined to college?’
Abraham could hear the raised eyebrows and the mocking smile, even though he could not see them.
CHAPTER 4
ARMED WITH A handful of good duck-feather quills, a sharpening knife and a large pot of oak-apple ink supplied by Silas, Thomas set to work, starting with the simple task of memorizing the names of the twenty recipients of messages. He used a memory trick based on the vowels in each name which Abraham had taught him years ago, and most names surrendered without much of a fight. Within half an hour, he had them all.
Next he counted the papers. There were twenty of them. Deciding to tackle them in the order in which Abraham had put them, he took the first one from the top of the pile. Twenty lines of ten letters each, written in a neat hand in brown ink and with spaces between every four or six letters, covered one side of the paper. Thomas held it up to the light, looking for unusual marks or letter formations. There were none. He smiled. Kindly old Abraham had given him a simple substitution cipher to start with. On a blank sheet, he prepared a table with each letter of the alphabet across the top. Then he counted the number of times each letter occurred in the message, and wrote the number below it. He found that the letters C, F, and P appeared most often. They would probably represent E, A, and T, although not necessarily in that order. They were the three most commonly used letters in the alphabet, and if he could identify those he would be on the way to breaking the cipher. As C and P were preceded and followed by fifteen different letters, but F by only eight, F would represent T, which would appear between fewer letters than either E or A. Ignoring the spaces, which were merely intended to confuse, there were six instances of double Cs, but none of double Ps. C would represent E, leaving P as A.
Continuing with this strategy, Thomas quickly identified ten letters, which revealed the common words AND, A and THE, and parts of other words. With a little intuition and guesswork, he had found the keyword, ADVANCE, and decrypted the message within an hour. It revealed that Sir John Berkeley, with modest help from Sir Bevil Grenville and Sir Ralph Hopton, had defeated a strong Parliamentary force at Braddock Down in Cornwall, capturing cannon and muskets. Reading the plain text, Thomas wondered why Sir John had troubled to have the message encrypted. The gallant knight clearly wanted the king, his court and all his subjects to know of his valour and the great victory it had brought. No doubt there had been similar messages from the other two gentlemen.
Thomas moved on to the second paper on the pile. Roughly the same length as the first, this one was also a mixture of letters and spaces. As before, he checked it for hidden signs, found none, wrote out each letter of the alphabet across the top of a blank page, and put under each one the number of times it appeared. When this produced a more even distribution than he expected, Thomas suspected he was facing a more complex cipher. Twenty minutes later, he knew he was right. Two substitutions had been used alternately, and he had to find both, just as he had shown Simon in the inn. After another hour, Thomas had identified fifteen letters, which was enough for him to fill in the gaps and write out both substitution alphabets. The substitutions were random sequences of letters, which made them more difficult to decrypt, but both sender and recipient would have had copies, making them vulnerable to discovery.
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
P L O M K I N J U B H Y V G T C F R X D E Z S W A Q
L A M Z P Q K S N X B C V J D F H G W I O R Y T EU
It was an intercepted message, revealing that in March Sir Thomas Fairfax had been concerned about his troops’ morale and had asked for them to be paid without further delay. As the message had failed to reach its intended destination, Thomas assumed that Sir Thomas’s troops had remained unpaid.
By the end of the first day, Thomas had decrypted seven complete documents. They were all alphabetic ciphers, using mixtures of single and double substitutions, and keywords. His eyes and back ached, his legs were stiff and he needed refreshment. He was about to go off in search of food and drink when there was a loud knock on the door. He opened it to find Tobias Rush outside, silver-topped cane in hand and, as at court, dressed all in black.
‘Master Hill, I find you hard at work no doubt. I trust I’m not disturbing you. I merely wondered if I could be of any assistance.’
Caught off balance, Thomas was less than articulate. ‘Master Rush. Good evening. No, no disturbance. I’ve just finished for the day, and was about to take some air and stretch my legs.’
‘In that case,’ replied Rush, smiling his thin smile, ‘perhaps I may accompany you. You can tell me how you’re progressing.’ Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode out into the courtyard. Thomas locked his door and followed. ‘I do admire Pembroke,’ said Rush, as they picked their way through the debris towards the college gate. ‘A lovely building, and attractively small, although I see the officers here have paid scant regard to its care. Alas, it’s the same everywhere. Military mess and careless destruction.’
The King's Spy (Thomas Hill Trilogy 1) Page 6