by Peter Tonkin
‘When?’ asked Poley quietly. ‘When should we put it into action?’
‘During, shall we say, the first week of February,’ answered Davis confidently. He lifted his cup as though toasting the enterprise and all associated with it, then drained it at one draught.
‘But we should do none of this here in Essex House,’ said Poley. ‘Here there are too many men coming and going who have only the most casual acquaintance with any of us. Too many ears in the employ of Master Secretary, perhaps. Too many tongues willing to whisper to the Council almost certainly.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Cuffe readily. ‘History proves that such matters are best resolved by a small group of dedicated leaders working in absolute secret until the very last moment. I adduce as my proof the downfall of Julius Caesar.’
‘A band of sure, selected men, therefore, meeting in secret at Drury House,’ said Southampton.
‘And, although we take Cuffe’s example,’ emphasised Poley, ‘let us remember that The Queen is not Caesar; and that the conspirators’ actions led to ultimate failure because they did not kill Marc Anthony or Octavian – a mistake pointed out by Marcus Tullius Cicero himself. And one we would be foolish to emulate. Especially as Antony and Octavian are the very men we wish to strike down.’
Talk of Caesar’s deputy and his heir in place of Raleigh and Cecil seemed to settle Essex a little, though Davis’s announcement of a possible date for action had clearly done yet more damage. Assigning the objects of their planning names from Classical times appeared somehow to reduce the mental turmoil that their plotting and planning engendered – in their leader at least. Then again, Southampton’s offer of Drury House – where indeed most of the discontented men had met and plotted so far – seemed to give Essex yet another straw to grasp at. At least he no longer looked like a man who was drowning in this overwhelming flood of events.
‘Let us agree on Drury House, then,’ said Essex more firmly.
‘And let us set our minds to drawing up a list of men we might trust to meet there and do this business,’ added Sir Gelly. Did he emphasise the word men, wondered Poley; certainly he was uneasy about the involvement of so many women in such a range of roles, no matter how firm their commitment and how clear their allegiance. He would have been even more worried had he known about Lady Janet.
But even as Sir Gelly spoke, the man who was least likely to figure on his list was shown into the room. ‘It is all over Gray’s Inn already,’ said Sir Francis. ‘Sir Thomas Grey is taken up for the affray in the Strand and the death of the boy and is imprisoned in the Fleet at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Surely that must prove that the action was neither instigated by Sir Walter or Master Secretary!’
*
Sir Francis’ news convinced no-one and he was soon off once more, called to a conference with Her Majesty at Richmond. Meanwhile, the plotters moved to Drury House and began to formulate a plan, led by Sir John Davis and Sir Fernando Gorges. It was inevitable now, given everything that had happened, that Poley and Cuffe should be among their number.
Cuffe, indeed, took an early lead. ‘Surely this is no matter for great armies,’ he said. ‘In spite of everything, My Lord of Essex is no Bolingbroke come to grasp the throne. Rather we are dealing with what might be called a coup. It is a method of transferring power popular in France and Scotland, so history informs us, as well as in our own island story. Allow me to adduce as my example the removal from her throne by certain Scottish lords of the Queen of Scots in 1567, replacing her by the infant James VI under the guardianship of her half-brother the Earl of Moray, and removing the friends, confidents and advisors who had guided the Queen of Scots so ill. All it took was a few powerful men overwhelming her palace and her guards and capturing her person. Able, therefore, to bend her to their will.’
‘London is not Edinburgh,’ said Sir John Davis. ‘And Her Majesty is no unpopular French-loving Queen of Scots trying to force Popishness on her Protestant subjects.’
‘Though,’ countered Cuffe, ‘as I observed on our ride to Nonsuch, Her Majesty’s Poor Laws do little to relieve the poor; the local officers hardly have the wherewithal to replace the system of relief that the Queen’s father broke down when he dissolved the monasteries. More and more come to die starving or freezing in the streets. Even London, once a jewel, is grown tawdry through the endless grasping greed of the men we seek to destroy. I am sure the citizens see all this as clearly as we do ourselves and are simply waiting for someone like the Earl to lead them towards a better place.’
‘There is the kernel of an idea there,’ said Fernando Gorges. ‘We would need to stir the citizens…’
‘They would follow the Earl, surely,’ said Sir Christopher Blount, nodding his agreement to Cuffe. ‘Especially if he voiced the fears we all have that the country is as good as sold into Spanish hands.’
‘The court and the city, then,’ said Cuffe. ‘And where else?’
‘The Tower,’ said Poley. ‘We would need to take the Tower.’
That stopped all conversation dead in its tracks for a good ten seconds. Then there was an overwhelming babble as everyone began to speak at once.
Gorges and Davis were still arguing over the best method of securing the Tower several days later, back in Essex House, when it became important in the situation in a way that not even Poley had anticipated. The author and pamphleteer John Heyward had been held there accused of treason since he had published his book of Henry IV and dedicated it to Essex. A fact that gave the Earl’s enemies yet more ammunition to use against him. Now Sir Francis arrived with yet more news. Perhaps he had already calculated what its impact would be. Perhaps not.
‘The Queen is preparing to return to Whitehall Palace,’ he said a little breathlessly. No-one showed any surprise, least of all Poley. It had been clear that the Queen would return to her London palace sometime in January. She always did. But there was more: ‘And, as part of her resumption of the reins of power, she has commanded that John Heyward be examined by the Council once again.’ Sir Francis turned towards Essex. ‘He stands accused of writing seditious and treasonous material at your behest, as you know, My Lord. And should he admit as much, it might give the Council further cause to demand that you are returned to prison yourself.’
‘I wonder who prompted her to command such action,’ said Poley.
‘You know very well, friend Robert,’ said Cuffe who missed the irony in Poley’s tone. ‘It must have been Master Secretary.’
‘It is clearly the next step in their campaign against me,’ said the Earl. ‘The moment for action approaches apace.’
Sir Gelly actually tutted – that his master should voice such an observation in front of the one man the Welshman was certain they could never trust, despite his repeated protestations that he only lived to serve the Earl. Poley saw the look the steward shot at the Queen’s Counsel and wondered whether Sir Francis’ elder brother the ailing Sir Anthony still trusted his sibling after all. He could well believe that Sir Francis could be added to the list that included himself, Nick Skeres and Christopher Blount, all of whom had worked for Walsingham and the Council in the past and, of course Fernando Gorges who was Sir Walter Raleigh’s cousin. But for the moment, the head of the Earl’s secret service was too ill to be disturbed.
*
But, thought the intelligencer, the Earl was right. It was time to stop all this plotting and prevaricating. For in fact Sir John Davis had completed his plan, though he was keeping it secret from all of them for the time being. He wanted to talk it through with the ailing Sir Anthony before opening it fully to the others. Sir Anthony’s illness was the only thing holding matters up – and Poley knew it would not be allowed to do this for long. Unless Sir Anthony began to recover soon, Sir John Davis would find a substitute – probably Fernando Gorges. All they needed to do was examine it, agree it, assign the various roles and responsibilities and then put it into action.
Which put the secret agent into a dangerous position. He had to
use this momentary delay to warn his masters on the Council that the plan was so close to being implemented. But his new position at the heart of things made it almost impossible to do anything unobserved and if he was discovered to be in communication with Lady Janet and the men she reported to, he would be dead in the blink of an eye. He was still based in Essex House in the room he had first occupied near those of Sir Christopher and Lady Lettice. This was the room he shared with Cuffe now, though as the end of the matter drew nearer there was less dalliance between them, especially as even when sharing their manly embraces, he found his head filling ever more powerfully with Lady Janet. In the beginning, his closeness to Cuffe had been a useful key to doors that would otherwise have remained closed to him. But now, Cuffe’s clinging nature meant that they were always together – something he needed to escape from, if only for a few vital hours. And yet he was reluctant to take the obvious way and pretend a lovers’ quarrel. There was something appealing in Cuffe’s devotion as he clung like a spaniel to its master. In the mean-time, Poley main employment was as a courier between the Earl, who was being careful to remain aloof, and the plotters in Drury House. He went between Essex and Southampton alone only on the rarest of occasions. He was almost perpetually in company with Cuffe, and often also with Sir Christopher Blount, both of whom with Fernando Gorges, Sir John Davis, Southampton and a tight but varying group of others. The core of the plot currently seemed to involve an increasing number of Catholic sympathisers such as Pearce Edmonds, Francis Tresham and Robert Catesby along with Lords Monteagle, Cromwell and Sandys; as well as Sir Charles Danvers and the indefatigable Lady Rich. And, although he often saw Agnes apparently coming and going to services at St Clement Danes, he could never speak with her or pass any message via her to Lady Janet.
But then, as had been the case in the past, an outside agency came to his aid. He and Cuffe were hurrying past the front of the great old church. It was early February and the weather was closing in again. Poley and Cuffe were pushing through a crowd of citizens who were keen, like them, to reach their destination before the next sleety downpour. The pair of them were carrying a message for Southampton the most important element of which seemed to be that the time had come to dispense with Sir Anthony Bacon’s services and move the helpless invalid out of Essex House and into his old lodgings in Bishopsgate.
As they crossed the open space in front of St Clement Dane’s, Poley caught sight of Agnes lingering in the doorway of the church which, like the rest of London stood in need of refurbishment. No sooner had he locked eyes with Lady Janet’s go-between than Nick Skeres appeared out of the crowd. ‘Cuffe,’ he gasped. ‘Cuffe, come, go with me. I have urgent news for the Earl.’ He grabbed Cuffe by the arm, pulling him away from Poley. ‘At once, man! At once!’
Overpowered by Skeres’ urgent demands, Cuffe allowed himself to be swirled away with only one helpless backward glance. Poley turned without a second thought, heading for St Clement Danes and Agnes. As soon as she saw he was approaching, she turned and vanished inside. The next time Poley saw her, she was standing at the side of an ancient pew. Most of the old pews had been ripped out with the other original popish artefacts by indignant Protestants who wished to address their God more directly rather than via priests and objects that brought them dangerously close to idolatory. But one or two of the original pews remained, with doors, high backs and private spaces so that the great and the good could perform their rites of worship out of the common gaze. As Poley approached, Agnes opened the door of one of these and Poley slid past her to find Lady Janet waiting for him. ‘How near are they to acting on their plans?’ she asked at once, her voice low.
*
‘Close. All that has slowed them so far is the illness of Sir Anthony Bacon but he is in process of being removed to his old lodgings. Sir John Davis and Sir Fernando Gorges are supposed to agree the final details within the next few days but…’
‘But?’
‘There is a tension between them. They agree less and less. It seems likely to me that Sir Fernando will challenge Sir John’s plans, in part at least. Furthermore, the nearer we come to action, the less confident the Earl seems to be.’
‘Treason is a sufficiently weighty matter to give the most fearless or desperate men pause,’ she nodded. ‘And he must know that, no matter how well planned the action, there is always the chance that it will go wrong.’
‘He has led armies and navies into battle. He knows that better than most.’
Lady Janet nodded her understanding.
‘Then perhaps if Master Secretary wishes the Earl to act,’ Poley continued delicately after a moment, ‘he should seek to apply just a little more pressure. A final push so to speak.’
She nodded again. ‘I will report what you have said. We will see what can be done.’
That seemed to be all. Poley began to slide along the pew towards the door which was still guarded by Agnes.
But Lady Janet stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. ‘And, Robert,’ she said softly.
He turned back. Even in the shadows of the private pew, her green eyes seemed to shine. ‘Yes Lady Janet?’
‘Take good care,’ she whispered. ‘We are, I think, approaching a truly dangerous time and I would be deeply saddened were anything to happen to you.’
Henry Cuffe was waiting at Drury House when Poley arrived and his news had caused enough of a stir to cover Poley’s tardiness. The news, indeed, was enough to drive the thoughts of Lady Janet from his mind, which had occupied it to the exclusion of everything else all the way up Wych Street.
‘Sir Thomas Grey has been released from the Fleet,’ Cuffe was saying. ‘Skeres swears it was by the Queen’s own command as enacted by Sir Robert Cecil himself.’
‘So,’ said Southampton grimly. ‘In Queen Elizabeth’s realm, the life of a brave boy so casually slaughtered is worth little more than a month in jail!’
‘Especially if the killer is a friend of the Toad’s,’ added Cuffe, all righteous outrage.
There was a murmur of agreement and concern which ran through the room at these bitter words. Poley paused in the doorway and looked around. There were nearly a dozen familiar faces present, their owners all seated round a large table at whose centre was spread a map of the city. Poley was pleased to see that Southampton, like Essex, liked company to share his concerns and support his views. But of course a circle as large as this one could never remain secure. Poley was almost certainly not the only spy amongst them. Wherever the finger of suspicion pointed, it could not point exclusively at him.
‘It is as clear as day that they are all in league against the Earl, even Her Majesty,’ said Poley at once as he came fully into the room. ‘We needed no further proof, but they have furnished us with proof in any case. Surely it is time to act!’
Sir Gelly nodded grudgingly. He might have been forced to allow Poley this close to the heart of things but he still didn’t trust him. Poley met his gaze. His was as cold and stony as Meyrick’s; there was no love lost between them, nor ever would be.
‘But we must wait!’ snapped Sir John Davis. ‘Sir Fernando has doubts about the plan. He agrees that we can place our men in and around the court with relative ease, as well as in certain areas of London itself, such as here in Durham House. The Toad has spies everywhere but even he does not know how widely we can cast our nets amongst apparently faithful courtiers, guards and the Royal Household. Or, indeed, amongst the watch and the constables of the City. These men could arrest the Toad and Raleigh when the word was given. And so allow the Earl direct access to Her Majesty. Thus permitting him to converse with her face to face. To warn her about the ill council she has been receiving and the men responsible for it. How she must remove them and summon a new parliament to address these vital matters before England becomes just another province of Spain.’ He looked around the assembled faces, almost all of which were aglow with excitement and enthusiasm. In stark contrast, thought Poley, to the expression he had last seen on t
he face of the man who was supposed to be at the head of all this.
*
After a brief pause, Sir John Davis continued, ‘And he agrees that we should be able to raise the city with relative ease, especially if we time our action carefully so that we can put our case before the greatest number of people all at once, as I have suggested.’ He paused again. He sighed heavily, clearly irritated. Either with Fernando Gorges’ intractability or with his own inability to address the problems his friend had seen.
Then he continued, ‘But the Tower remains intractable. Sir Richard Berkeley commands it and he is the man who has, with Lord Keeper Edgerton, been put in charge of keeping the Earl under house arrest in both York House and Essex House. The Queen trusts him to stand by her no matter what the circumstance, and with good reason. He is hers, body and soul. We have no hope of turning him to our cause – nor of placing men within the Tower or of turning or even simply bribing any of the garrison already there.’
‘Can we not act without the Tower?’ demanded Charles Percy truculently.
‘It doubles the risks,’ said Sir John Davis.
‘More than doubles them,’ said Poley. ‘Unless the citizens of London can be roused in such numbers that they put a wall of flesh between the garrison in the Tower and the Palace, the Council and the Queen. A wall that will stand with us for long enough to allow the Earl to achieve what he wishes to achieve in those quarters. What does the Earl himself think?’
‘We have not yet discussed this with the Earl,’ admitted Sir John Davis. Fernando Gorges nodded agreement.
‘Then perhaps it is time to do so.’ Poley glanced at Cuffe then back at the rest. ‘If what Skeres told Master Cuffe is correct, then the Council is preparing to take action against us. If we do not move, we will never outmanoeuvre them and we will all be destroyed.’