Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)
Page 56
“He survived, did he?” Henry asked, interrupting.
“He was wounded in the shelling that destroyed his house, but he was able to escape, my lord. He was extremely humble and asked me to convey to you his most sincere apologies for having refused to heed your warning.”
“He is a lucky man in more ways than one,” said Henry grimly.
“Indeed, my lord. I explained the situation regarding the White Well. The governor was ecstatic, as you can imagine, for this will mean the city of Wellinsport will increase in wealth and importance. Captain Rader will need assistance in guarding the well.”
“I have spoken to the Admiralty,” said Henry. “Admiral Tower will be receiving orders to send ships to do that very thing. You have the chart that marks the location?”
“I do, my lord. I stopped by the Parrot on my way back.” Mr. Sloan removed the chart from his satchel and delivered it to Henry, who wrinkled his nose.
“What is that god-awful smell?”
“Olaf hid the chart in an empty ale barrel for safekeeping, my lord.”
Henry laughed, and wondered how he was going to get rid of the smell before delivering the chart to the king.
“Sit down, Mr. Sloan. I have news. I am planning to submit my letter of resignation to His Majesty. I have one more task to do as spymaster and you must help me do it. After that, I mean to retire.”
He paused, eyeing his secretary. “You do not look surprised, Mr. Sloan.”
“I have been expecting this news, my lord,” said Mr. Sloan. “I offer you my very best wishes.”
“You know, of course, that you are most welcome to remain in my employment, though I tell you honestly that life as the secretary to a country squire would be a sad waste of your many exceptional talents.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Mr. Sloan. “Serving Your Lordship has been an honor and a privilege.” He added with a cough, “I was planning to speak to you.…”
“Yes, Mr. Sloan?”
“I have been thinking of going into business for myself. You see, sir, I am going to be married.…”
“Not you as well, Mr. Sloan!” Henry exclaimed, amazed. “Who is the most fortunate woman who has won your heart?”
“She is Mistress Brown, the owner of a sigil shop, who has done work for you in the past, my lord. She placed the magic on your coat during the Bottom Dweller War that protected you against the contramagic attack.”
“She saved my life, Mr. Sloan,” said Henry.
“Yes, my lord. Mistress Brown is recently widowed—”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Henry interjected.
“Do not be, sir. The late Mr. Brown was a cad,” said Mr. Sloan.
“Then good riddance to him,” said Henry, smiling.
“Mistress Brown was left to cope with the business and to raise two young boys. She wrote to ask my advice on a matter connected with the shop and I was able to be of some material assistance to her. We have corresponded since then and walked out together on occasion. She and I have formed an understanding.”
Mr. Sloan added with some embarrassment, “I am pleased to say that the boys have become quite attached to me, my lord. I find I enjoy fatherhood.”
“Congratulations, Mr. Sloan,” said Henry, adding with a laugh, “I am to be beset by weddings, it seems. First Alan and now you. The next thing I hear, Randolph will be marching to the altar where he will damn the eyes of the reverend.”
Henry grew serious. “And now, Mr. Sloan, I fear we must turn from matters of love to business—a most unpleasant business.”
Mr. Sloan rose to check to make certain the door was locked and that no one was loitering in the hall, then resumed his seat.
“I am all attention, my lord.”
“I have received disturbing information, Mr. Sloan. I dare not investigate the matter myself for reasons that will soon become apparent to you.”
He handed a note to Mr. Sloan, who read it and looked grave. “I am extremely sorry to learn this, my lord. What would you have me do?”
“I need you to procure evidence, however damning.”
“I understand, my lord.”
Mr. Sloan took his leave. Henry gathered up the documents that he considered important, looked about his office for one last time, smiled, and departed. He would have to remember to tell someone in the mail room.
Mr. Sloan was gone for several days. Immediately on his return, he went to the Naval Club to meet with Henry.
“I have the evidence you require, my lord. I bribed the earl’s valet, who has no great regard for his master, and he provided me with documents, as well as several incriminating letters.”
Henry read through the letters. His expression darkened. “The damn fool! This is enough to hang him!”
“I am surprised he did not destroy them, my lord.”
“He kept them to protect himself from Smythe.” Henry grimaced. “I was afraid it would come to this. I must act with dispatch.”
“I await your orders, my lord.”
“I will not involve you, Mr. Sloan,” said Henry. “This could well get me hanged.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
By the time Mr. Sloan left, the sun had set. Henry reflected that the days were growing longer, the air warmer. Traveling the Breath would be safe now. Lady Ann had written that the countess had ordered her yacht to be ready to sail and that his family would be with him soon. The day could not arrive fast enough.
He put tender, loving thoughts from his mind. He would be venturing into the darkness and they had no place there. Removing the letter of resignation from the drawer, he took a cab to the palace. He was well known to the marines at the gate and they immediately granted him permission to enter. Henry dismissed the cab, saying he would walk from there.
He did not make his way to the palace. Instead, he walked to Offdom Tower.
Henry kept watch in the darkness to make certain he was not followed. He checked more out of force of habit than because he was truly worried. This section of the palace grounds was deserted at night. The tower was undergoing extensive repairs following Dalgren’s attack. The top floor of the building had suffered the most damage, and was closed. Only one prisoner occupied the tower: Isaiah Crawford, otherwise known as Jonathan Smythe.
The church bells struck ten of the clock as he walked up the stairs of the dark and silent tower to the floor where Smythe’s cell was located. Two marines stood outside the cell door. They recognized Henry, for both had once served aboard the Valor. They greeted him warmly and inquired anxiously about Admiral Baker, saying they heard he had been seriously wounded.
Henry was happy to report that Randolph would make a full recovery, then came down to business.
“I need to speak to the prisoner, gentlemen.”
“Very good, my lord,” one of the marines replied, adding, “I should accompany you, sir. The bastard is as dangerous as a rabid rat. He’s been spewing filth about the king and our late queen, God rest her.”
His comrade nodded agreement. “Just tonight, when I took him his meal, he tried to bribe me to help him escape. He said he had powerful friends who would reward me well for aiding him.”
“Did he happen to name these friends?” Henry asked, trying to appear nonchalant.
“No, my lord. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I told him to rot in hell, and reported the incident to our commander.”
“A proper course of action,” Henry replied, vastly relieved. “Thank you for the offer, gentlemen, but I see no need for you to accompany me. I will be perfectly safe. Still, you should lock the cell door behind me. We mustn’t take chances.”
One of the marines went to fetch the key that hung on a hook on the wall while the other removed the magical constructs on the door. Henry took off his greatcoat, folded it, draped it over a chair, and entered the cell.
“Good luck, my lord,” the marine said as he shut the door behind him. “Shout if you need us.”
He turned the key in the lock.
“What the devil do you want, Wallace?”
“A moment of your time, Crawford,” said Henry. “This won’t take long, I assure you.”
“His Majesty sent you, no doubt, to try to convince me to keep silent,” said Smythe with contempt. “You always were a royal ass-licker. First that spawn of the Evil One, Queen Mary, and now—”
Henry drew his pistol, placed the barrel against the back of Smythe’s skull, and pulled the trigger. Smythe slumped forward onto the desk, striking the inkwell and knocking it over. Ink and blood formed a gruesome pool.
One of the marines was hammering on the door.
“We heard a shot, my lord! Are you all right?”
“I am perfectly fine,” Henry called. “But I fear there has been a tragedy. No, don’t open the door. Nothing should be disturbed. Fetch your commander.”
Henry placed the gun in the corpse’s limp hand. He then gathered up the papers on Smythe’s desk, including those beneath his head that were soaked in blood. Henry glanced through them and grimaced. He selected several and thrust them into his pocket, then burned the remainder in the grate, stirring them with the toe of his boot to make certain they were entirely consumed.
By that time, the commander had arrived. The marines opened the cell door and he walked inside. He shook hands with Henry, whom he knew from the Naval Club where he had often played whist with Randolph, then glanced at the corpse.
“Bad business, my lord,” he said coolly.
“Indeed it is, Captain,” said Henry.
“Did you see what happened?”
“I am afraid not, sir,” said Henry. “I had walked over to warm myself at the fire. I blame myself. I was careless and he was able to take my gun from my pocket.”
The captain grunted. “Good thing he shot himself and not you, my lord.”
“I can only suppose he suffered from remorse,” said Henry gravely.
“Remorse that he didn’t succeed in killing His Majesty,” the captain said dourly. “He was as bad as they come. Tried to bribe one of my men.”
“So I heard,” Henry said.
The captain walked over to examine the body. “Gun in his hand. Hole in his head. Obvious what happened.”
He cast a sharp glance at Henry. “I don’t see a need for an inquiry, do you, my lord? Those marines are two of my best. I wouldn’t want them brought up on charges of dereliction of duty.”
“I see no reason, Captain,” Henry agreed. “Smythe was a murderer thrice over. An inquiry into his death would stir up trouble at a time when our nation has finally come together in peace. I would suggest your men haul this fiend’s carcass to the paupers’ graveyard, dump him in the ground, and bury his infamy with him. He deserves no more.”
“I’ll send up the burial squad,” said the captain.
* * *
Henry had one last official duty to perform as spymaster. He left the prison and walked to the palace. Organizing his thoughts along the way, he reached inside the pocket of his jacket and touched the queen’s letter.
“I have kept my promise, Your Majesty,” he said softly.
He asked to see the king, and was told that Thomas had retired to his private chambers to dine with friends.
“I must speak with him upon an urgent matter,” said Henry. “This cannot wait.”
The footman departed and returned with Henry’s elder brother. The two shook hands.
“I heard you were back in the country,” said Richard.
“You look well, Richard,” said Henry. “Given the severity of your wound, I am surprised to find you have returned to your duties so soon.”
“I am fully recovered, thank you,” said Richard. “I happened to be visiting with the king when the footman brought your message. A group of us dined with him to discuss his marriage.”
“I trust there will be no problem with the House,” said Henry. “I happen to know Kate and I cannot praise her highly enough, though I venture to say she will not be a conventional queen. Are there are other guests? I need to speak to His Majesty in private.”
“The others have gone and I was just about to take my leave. The king will be glad to see you. He received your report about the White Well. His Majesty is immensely pleased, and has a great many questions.”
“His Majesty will have to ask them of Simon,” said Henry. “I can tell him only that the well is insufferably cold and smells like rotting fish.”
“I wanted a chance to speak to you alone, Henry, if you can spare a moment,” said Richard. “I want to tell you I am damnably sorry about Henshaw. I had no idea he planned to betray you. I hope you believe me.”
He looked uncertainly at Henry, who hastened to reassure him.
“I know you, Richard. Not as well as I should perhaps, but I know you better than that. What has become of him?”
“He told me he had handed you over to the guards. The wretch was proud of himself. Actually boasted about it! I sacked him immediately. After he was gone, I discovered he had been stealing money from me. The last I heard, he had fled the country, fearing arrest. I have no idea where he has gone and, frankly, I do not care. He will come to a bad end wherever he is.”
Richard cast a troubled glance at his brother. “I hope you can forgive me, Henry.”
“I could well ask you the same, Richard,” said Henry. “We both made mistakes, but we did so out of love for our country.”
Richard gave a faint smile. “Thank you, Henry. I will take you to His Majesty.”
He escorted Henry into the king’s office.
“Good-bye, Henry. Perhaps we could dine together next week.”
“I should like nothing better,” said Henry.
Richard bowed to the king and departed, shutting and locking the door behind him.
“Please, be seated, Sir Henry,” said Thomas. “I am glad to see that you and your brother are once more on friendly terms.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Henry. “I have come to appreciate the value of family. I trust Your Majesty has recovered from the battle. Randolph told me of your heroism. He praised your skill and courage highly.”
“Did he damn my eyes?” Thomas asked, laughing. “Because that would be high praise indeed. We owe our lives, as well as our victory, to the Dragon Brigade.”
“And we owe that to Captain Kate,” said Henry. “Her Highness, the Princess Sophia, hints that Freya will soon have a new queen.”
Thomas smiled. “Thanks to Miss Nettleship, who wrote a stirring account of Kate’s heroics in the Gazette. And now, my lord, I will not keep you. I know your time is valuable. Sir Richard tells me you have come to speak to me on a matter of the utmost urgency.”
“I have, Your Majesty,” said Henry. “I am here in regard to Isaiah Crawford, also known as Jonathan Smythe. He is dead, sir.”
“Dead?” Thomas repeated, shocked. “How did he die?”
“By his own hand, sir,” said Henry. “I fear the fault was mine. He removed a pistol I was carrying and used it to shoot himself in the head.”
Thomas stared at Henry, who met his gaze and held it.
“The devil he did,” Thomas said at last. “You shot him, Sir Henry. Shot him in cold blood and arranged it to look like suicide.”
Henry bowed and said nothing.
Thomas slammed his fist on the desk. “Damn it, my lord, I cannot countenance this terrible crime! I cast no aspersions on the late queen, but I intend to rule differently than those who have come before me! I want people to know that their king is a man of honor, that I stand for justice and the rule of law! I intended to do this by putting Smythe on public trial. Show the world that I was not simply going to take my revenge.…”
He choked on his rage and had to stop talking to draw breath. Henry reached into his pocket and produced several documents.
“Your Majesty could not put Smythe on trial. You would ha
ve done irreparable harm to the monarchy and yourself.”
Henry placed one of the documents on the king’s desk.
Thomas saw that it was spattered with blood and recoiled. He made no move to touch it.
Henry continued. “That is a speech Smythe intended to deliver at his trial. In it, he names those who had conspired with him to assassinate Your Majesty that day on the dock. The conspirators planned to put Hugh Fitzroy on the throne.”
Thomas stared at the document. He read the names and his expression darkened. He looked up at Henry. “These eight people belong to some of the oldest and finest families in the kingdom. I counted them as friends. You are saying they conspired to kill me?”
“No, sir. They had no idea Smythe’s intention was to hire an assassin to kill Your Majesty. I have spoken to all of them, sir, and they were shocked and horrified to discover what he plotted. Smythe lied to them in order to convince them to join his conspiracy. Smythe told them that you intended to seize their lands and wealth and claim them for the crown. One person only knew he was going to kill you and that was the Earl of Montford, Hugh Fitzroy. The others realized, too late, that Smythe had duped them.”
“They would not be the first,” said Thomas in bitter tones.
“These men and women are terrified, sir. They are deeply ashamed and regret their actions,” Henry said. “They want the chance to beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness and pledge their loyalty. I have no need to add, sir, that if you arrest these noble lords and ladies and bring them to trial as traitors, the scandal would forever cast a dark cloud over the nation and your monarchy.”
Thomas picked up the letter and glanced through it, then let it fall to the desk.
“I do not want to put these people on trial, Sir Henry. But neither can I afford to appear weak in the face of my enemies.”
“They are not your enemies, sir. Mercy and forbearance are not signs of weakness. They are hallmarks of a strong king doing what he believes to be right. I suggest Your Majesty receive their pledges of fealty in the spirit of new beginnings, to celebrate your wedding and your coronation. In return, you will gain loyal allies for life.”
“But I can never trust them,” Thomas said in bleak tones.